Original subtitles

THE SUNDAY LIGHT

It was 1911 or 1912.

The story happened long ago.

I remember it was a Sunday,

and the day had dawned clear,

wonderfully clear,

unusual in Cenciella.

I also remember the town was having its annual festival.

People from all over the region came to Cenciella on that day

because it was very lively, no expense was spared on fireworks

and there was dancing until late into the night.

They came from Granda and Vega,

from Polán and Cerralbos del Sella.

All the boys and girls came to dance the folk dances,

the waltzes and the habaneras.

Urbano Cajigal arrived on the coach from Luarca.

He was tall and had dark, glossy hair.

He was wearing a threadbare navy blue suit,

waistcoat, patent leather boots

and a crimson satin tie.

He was the son of poor laborers from Salamanca province.

Orphaned at the age of seven, he went into service in the city,

in the home of a forestry engineer who taught him to read and write.

Then Urbano, by himself and stealing hours from his sleep,

studied and became a lawyer.

Also, and without knowing how,

he developed a great interest in painting in oils.

He brought a letter of recommendation

to obtain accommodation in the Predes Inn,

the cleanest and brightest in the town,

and where we were all living at that time,

that is, Deogracias Alpaca, the conductor of the municipal band,

councilor Apolonio Chanfaina

and I.

Estrellita, shall we dance?

No, and don't call me Estrellita.

Why not?

My name is Estrella, not Estrellita.

I mean why won't you dance?

I'm wearing new shoes and they're uncomfortable.

I know perfectly well

what makes you uncomfortable.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

- Hello. - Good afternoon.

- Don Atila Becerril? - Yes.

I'm Urbano Cajigal.

Well!

Forgive me for not rising, the gout won't let me.

I thought our new young secretary would never arrive

and he'd miss the town's celebrations.

Leto, serve Mr. Cajigal.

Leto is my eldest son.

This is the middle son, Tarín,

and that's Pipo, the youngest.

Three fine specimens who only think about hunting chamois and...

And pretty girls!

I wonder who they took after!

You should all know that, while he may look unassuming,

our young secretary won the post in Cenciella

without any recommendations.

As far as I know.

Or did you know the right person?

No, sir.

I saw there was a vacant post

here in the Town Hall and I applied for it.

And I'm glad I did because,

from the little I've seen, this is a beautiful place.

And it would be even more so

if we didn't have to live alongside some...

But anyway, this is our feast day

and what we have to do is enjoy ourselves.

Estrellita looks very happy with the stranger.

- He's not a stranger. - No?

No.

Say what you like, Mr. Joaco,

but this is the first time we've seen that fellow.

You'll see a lot more of him after today.

Why's that?

He's the new municipal secretary.

My granddaughter would never dance with a blow-in.

That's fine.

Thank you.

What did you think of our municipal band's timbre?

I'm asking because I saw you there last night.

I think you play very well.

Thank you.

I particularly remember the waltz...

"The Blue Danube"!

You're like myself, you like the waltz.

There's nothing like the waltz.

For love, for keeping you in shape, for the digestion,

for everything.

The waltz is

elegance made music,

incandescent voluptuousness,

champagne bubbling in your mouth.

Sublime, exquisite, heavenly.

- That's the waltz. - Some people prefer the polka.

- Good morning, Don Urbano. - Good morning.

The polka?

You can't compare the ternary with the two by four.

The polka is nothing but little jumps.

A group of frogs

saying "Hello, hello".

Please!

Mr. Alpaca, I'm the one from Andalusia.

- You're saying I'm exaggerating? - Yes.

The waltz is Vienna, Doña Predes,

Vienna, capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire,

capital of culture,

of voluptuousness,

with the Schönbrunn Palace, the Belvedere...

Do you know Vienna?

Do you?

Neither do I.

But I've got a friend who lives there.

A violinist, Sindelar,

the great Otto Sindelar.

And Seville?

Do you know Seville, Deogracias?

Yes, but what's that got to do with it?

What do you mean? Seville really is "voluminous".

Voluptuous.

Whatever.

With its Giralda,

its Arenal,

its Golden Tower, its Santa Cruz Square.

And Triana, and the singing?

And the Macarena?

And Sierpe Street,

famous even in China, with its scent of milk coffee.

And the Guadalquivir?

Where have you seen a river that starts in the mountains

and ends in America?

Vienna, Vienna! Seville!

In what other city in the world can you touch the spring

with your hands?

I'm telling you, and I'm from Malaga.

You know it well.

Yes, I do.

I got married there and I was very happy there.

Seville smells of orange blossoms and has the sound of fans.

Well, I'm from Guadalajara. Your salts, Mr. Chanfaina.

It's very nice too.

Carola, please!

How can you compare the city where they make "drunken sponge cakes"

with the city where even the drunks make sponge cakes?

Lots of talk about Vienna and waltzes, but you're as disgusting as ever!

What are spittoons for?

You're right, Doña Predes. Forgive me, I'll stop doing it.

I'll go outside and try to improve my aim when I spit.

Life in Cenciella was monotonous with very little excitement.

Every day, people went about their business,

and in the evening, the men would have a drink

and a game of cards in Parrula's bar,

and the women would have a chat in one house or another, before supper.

On Sundays and Holy Days,

everyone,

except Joaco, always different,

or I, if I'd been called out,

went to the church at mid-morning, for 11 o'clock mass,

better dressed,

cleaner,

and gossiping under their breath about love affairs

or clergymen

or the political maneuvering of the authorities.

In the afternoons, on those Holy Days,

part of the town would gather on the avenue or in the square,

to enjoy the music and dancing,

the chatter,

or other delights.

The other part,

in the taverns,

where the young single men,

the gawpers and the solitary old men

would drink, generally too much.

It seems the new secretary is crazy about your granddaughter, Mr. Joaco,

and all of Cenciella knows about it.

If he's crazy,

he's crazy.

Mr. Joaco, if the secretary asked your permission to walk out with her,

it could do you good.

Explain yourself, Longinos.

Isn't it true the mayor wanted to buy your orchard

and you said no?

Yes.

Well, having Cajigal as an ally would avoid a lot of problems,

isn't that so?

I pass.

No more twos.

What's all this I hear about you and my granddaughter?

It seems you're very happy to greet each other

when there's an encounter.

I think greeting Miss Estrella every time I see her

is a matter of basic courtesy.

I just want you to be aware that we follow

certain customs here when courting.

What should I do, sir?

First of all,

ask permission from the girl's guardian.

That's me.

I understand.

Can you play cards?

I'm not too good at seven and a half, I always go too fast.

I'm much better at tute.

In fact, once I declared 40 in cups.

Well, if you once declared 40 in cups,

I'm sure you're a lucky man.

One day, when it suits you,

I'd like us to play a hand or two,

in my house.

It suits me right now, sir.

In the town, we've got two political groups who loathe each other.

The democratic group, whom we call the "Chorizos",

and the cacique group, the "Becerrils".

- The "Chorizos"? - Yes,

that's what they call us.

The name comes from the only real industry in town,

which is slaughtering, and its derivatives,

pork products, leather, shoe making.

But there are other people, also "Chorizos",

who work at other jobs, obviously.

As for the others,

Becerril is the mayor's surname. That says it all.

They have no will of their own, they're subordinates.

- Yes-men for those who fill the posts. - And fill their pockets.

The ones who make a killing in Pilares and in Madrid.

Deputies, businessmen,

newspaper owners, people

with influence in the ministries and...

They're the ones who help and protect the Becerrils,

as Johann Strauss says.

The Becerrils

don't work,

they do nothing but play cards, hunt partridges,

drink and bother decent people,

especially women.

That's right.

There's a storm coming. Can't you smell it?

Napoleon didn't lose the battle of Waterloo.

The one who lost it was Marshall Grouchy,

because he obeyed Napoleon's orders.

He had no initiative.

Estrella,

go and help Regina, and see if the chocolate is ready.

Yes, grandpa.

Here.

It's a Havana.

It's the kind the Bishop of Pilares smokes.

It leaves your mouth

sweet.

Thank you.

Wonderful!

Mr. Cajigal,

you needn't explain yourself because it's very obvious

that Estrellita has got you besotted.

Forgive the expression. But

what I want to know is

if your intentions towards my granddaughter

are formal.

- Church and... - I can assure you...

Let me finish.

Please.

I assure you that I won't fool around

when it comes to caring for my granddaughter's good name.

Neither you

nor anyone else will get off lightly

if you show

any disrespect to the girl

and then clear off like a bat out of hell.

Mr. Joaco,

I love Estrella,

I love her with all my heart, ever since I saw her.

For me,

an invisible thread united us when we first saw each other.

Since then, I've treated her with the greatest delicacy,

but not out of fear of you, Mr. Joaco,

out of the respect she deserves.

Mr. Cajigal,

I take back what I said

and I apologize.

Sit down.

Sit down, please.

What's wrong?

Why are you both so serious?

It turns out that the secretary

wishes to have a relationship with you.

And I've said yes.

Now we only need your agreement.

I'll go and get the cakes.

Happy?

I think being a painter

isn't so much differentiating between colors

but rather distinguishing the light of each day of the week.

Everyone can tell red from blue and blue from yellow,

but for me, the light on a Sunday

isn't like that on a Wednesday or a Thursday.

Why is that?

During the week, the sun doesn't look at the Earth.

It seems to be looking at the Earth,

but, no, it's looking much farther.

A different planet every day, who knows!

However, on a Sunday,

on a Sunday, the sun looks only at the Earth.

It bathes it with light, everything glows in a different way.

They say that in America

there's Sunday light every day of the week.

Ask your grandfather.

And if it's cloudy on a Sunday?

That's like...

Have you ever felt that someone is looking at you from behind?

You can't see him,

but you can feel his eyes on you.

It's the same with the light on a Sunday,

even if it's cloudy.

We can't see the sun,

but we know it's looking at us.

Your Sunday light is going,

and everything suggests that it won't come back again.

Next week, the sea will be different

and the sky

and the meadow.

And we'll be different too.

Yes, we'll be different,

happier.

I'm different already.

Do you know why?

Because you're looking at me and the sun's looking at me.

Estrella,

as well as being the prettiest girl in Cenciella and all around,

has got "dosh" as they say here.

Her grandfather, Mr. Joaco, came back from Paradise very well-heeled.

But even so, he's a real miser.

I mean, despite all the money he has,

he makes the girl sew for people.

It's not like that, Deogracias.

- Oh, no? - No.

He wanted the girl to learn to sew,

reinforce, cut and embroider

so she wouldn't turn into one of those girls

who spend their lives idling.

Even in the royal households, they make the princesses crochet

- from they're little. - Yeah, yeah.

Don't "yeah, yeah" at me.

And you can't deny that Joaco left everything he had

and came back here to take care of the child

after the accident.

There was an explosion

in the El Cordal mines

and the Nalón overflowed.

And an eddy as black as Barrabas's soul

swept Estrella's parents away.

Joaco is...

Joaco.

He's how he is.

When rich emigrants come back, they build a house

- with a palm tree in front. - That's right. Why is it?

It's like a tropical reminder

of their young days.

Well, Joaco built the house, but without the palm tree.

You can cheer for Daoiz and Velarde

but Napoleon is his idol.

And that's enough.

Never let it be said that we gossip about other people.

But is he tight fisted or not?

Oh, Lord!

Almost.

What's it like being really in love?

It's hard to explain.

The ground is soft since I know he loves me.

Isn't that silly?

I see through his eyes and he, through mine.

So being in love is having four eyes?

And four hands, silly!

What are the kisses like?

I don't know.

I always tremble when he comes close to kiss me.

But when he puts his lips to mine, we both tremble.

I keep my eyes open to see his eyes closed,

but I think when I close mine he opens his.

I press hard against his chest

and put my arms around him

until he pushes me away with a shy smile.

Cova, if it were up to me I'd be kissing him for days on end.

You're so lucky!

Good morning.

Good morning.

In nomine Patris

et Filii et Spiritu Sancti,

Amen.

Wine.

How's your master coping with his bad foot?

Don Atila is like he always is when he has gout.

If anything even grazes his foot,

it's "Christ Almighty!", "Fucking hell!", and "Damn this foot".

I was looking for you.

Go ahead.

Don Atila said to tell you that when it suits you

come and see him.

Why do you like writing here, with all this noise?

I'm used to it.

When I studied in the Faculty of San Carlos, in Madrid,

I used to scribble occasionally.

But I took it more seriously

when I was sent to a town in upper Aragon.

As I knew no one,

I rarely left the sacristan's house, where I lived,

except when I was called out.

It seems writing is something doctors do a lot,

and as for the noise, I grew up with six sisters,

so just imagine.

Good evening,

secretary.

Want to try?

No, thank you.

I'll give you two to one.

Five pesetas for me if I win.

Ten for you if you're the victor.

Well?

No, thank you.

Three to one.

One duro for me if I win.

If I don't, three for you.

Leto...

Leto!

Forget it. He doesn't want to.

What I'm offering

seems fair to me,

sergeant.

It's not a matter of whether it seems fair to you or not.

The secretary doesn't want to do it.

Understand, Leto?

Do you understand, Leto?

Come on, sir, it's not the time.

Sons of bitches.

I could spend another ten years here

and I still wouldn't understand you.

And I'm not saying it because of that business.

I'm saying it because you all find it so hard to be happy.

You aren't happy about the good things that happen,

you're happy about the bad things that happen to your neighbors.

Look at the people in Las Caldas.

They're not happy because they were granted the School of Commerce.

They're happy because it wasn't given to Piloña,

who asked for it first.

It's dangerous!

And Coney Island?

What do you say about Coney Island?

The hare was this big. You should have seen it, doctor.

I hunted it for him.

Yes,

but your father has got more than enough uric acid,

and if he doesn't stop eating meat,

that big toe will get even worse.

My dear quack,

even someone who's only gone to university for a year

will tell you that eating only vegetables

and boiled hake and drinking nothing but water

can't be healthy.

It goes against the body's nature.

It's common sense.

Do as you wish, it's your illness.

The Hippocratic oath obliges me to advise you against meat

and to prescribe what I'm prescribing

to ease your discomfort.

My knowledge goes no further, so...

Yes?

Don Atila, Mr. Joaco is here.

Send him in.

- Good afternoon. - Hello.

Leto, mayor,

doctor.

Sit down, Joaco, please.

I'm fine as I am.

As you see, my cross is gout.

I believe they call it the penance of the rich.

Listen, Joaco,

is it true that in North America the women

don't suffer from the frigid, puritan fervor that they do here?

And they don't have their breasts flattened by whalebone corsets

or dress in black

or look like the representation of a Friday in Lent.

- Good afternoon, gentlemen. - Thank you, doctor.

Longinos can take the prescription to the pharmacist.

- Well, father... - No, wait.

Wait.

Joaco,

why don't you and I go out together a few days?

Getting in a good position,

without them seeing us or sniffing us,

picking out the animal,

getting within shooting range and...

One for you.

Another for me.

I like hunting alone.

Father, let's get down to business.

Mr. Joaco, the price you were offered at the end of last year...

I'll add 20,000 reals of my own.

Leto and the daughter of the miller in Prunes want to get married.

Everyone knows that this brute got her pregnant before time,

and she wasn't the first,

but, anyway, he wants to marry this one.

A couple need their own home.

I can understand that, and the haste too.

What isn't reasonable

is that you want to build your son's house

exactly where I have the orchard.

And I've told you in other conversations

that I'm not selling.

We've told you a thousand times

that the Town Council is going to increase the taxes

for those who have land within the town limits

and don't build on it.

That's your case.

Be quiet.

I'll pay the taxes.

Joaco,

Joaco,

my family

is asking you a favor,

a favour for which my family

will pay you very well.

It seems you don't understand who is asking the favor.

My father is asking it,

Mr. Joaco,

and my father

is Don Atila Becerril,

the mayor of Cenciella,

who can do this

and leave you without a penny to your name.

I told you to be quiet.

Joaco,

I know I've got a reputation for being a hard man

and perhaps I am.

But everyone also knows

that I never forget a favor

and that to deny me one is...

How can I put this?

To slight me.

I told you that bastard wouldn't sell it to us!

Jumped-up little shit.

Joaco!

Good afternoon, Mr. Joaco.

Good afternoon.

So, is my father improving?

In what sense?

Well!

Excuse me.

Our secretary is a real Goya, don't you think, Deogracias?

Look at the lovely church he painted for me.

Is the courtship really serious?

And how!

We'll ask for her hand soon.

I say "we" because Don Urbano asked me to be his matron of honor.

Talking of nuptials, Doña Predes...

What did you say?

Marriage, wedding...

You know,

it's almost 12 years since you had the misfortune to be widowed,

back in Seville,

the capital of the world, according to you.

Don't you think,

Predestinación,

you're still very young

and very...

to continue in the world without the company of a man

who'd look after you,

who'd love you

and who'd...

Well, you know...

You understand?

Don't you find the bed very wide

on the winter nights?

Very wide

and very cold?

You know what I do on the winter nights, Mr. Alpaca?

I take a very hot firebrick,

wrapped in a towel, and I put it between the sheets.

And you wouldn't believe, Deogracias,

how happily I go to sleep!

But how can you compare a husband to a hot brick!

My brick never has cold feet! Come along.

Master Leto.

Abelino, you can go home. I won't need you.

Thank you.

- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.

- Yes? - They're here!

Was the visit not at 5:00?

It's 5:00 now. You're always running late.

Our clock is set by the Town Hall clock, and it's about to strike.

You hear?

Damn Roscoff!

And...

And that's it. I've come to ask for Estrellita's hand

for the best man in all of Asturias,

Urbano Cajigal, a great lawyer

and the best secretary this Town Hall has ever had.

Mr. Cajigal,

no one, not even your grandmother, could have praised you higher.

Predes,

you needn't force yourself in speaking highly

of the virtues and merits of our secretary.

I know them very well.

Well, we all know them.

But I do agree that no matter how much we search

Estrella would never find in all this land

a wiser fiancée.

In keeping with tradition,

Urbano gave Estrella an outfit from head to toe,

acquired in Vetusta,

and the fiancée gave her betrothed a set of underwear

that was brought expressly from a very famous store

that was in Madrid, in Pontejos Street,

as well as a tie pin.

Then Rochester begs Jane

to run away with him to the ends of the earth

so they can be happy together,

- but Jane, who is... - Chocolate!

...overwhelmed by the discovery that Rochester is married...

When you've finished "Jane Eyre", can you lend me one?

- And me another. - What about me?

Listen carefully.

Next Friday,

Serrano and Fraga will be in Pilares,

at the cock fight, right?

Yes, Don Atila. They're betting on fights that day.

That means the "Chorizos" will be two votes short,

and we'll have the majority.

We can raise the taxes and, above all,

ensure that our distribution plan prospers,

and not theirs.

We can't deal with those matters at the Friday meeting.

No?

No, sir. I would remind you that both the matter of the taxes

and the distribution plan are over the deadline.

They'll be dealt with in the next fiscal year.

Urbano,

I'm not talking to you about fiscal years,

or taxes

or balances.

Money.

There's nothing better than money.

Neither family, nor religion, nor the homeland,

nor pleasure,

nor gambling.

Nothing.

The aristocracy today is measured by money,

not by blood.

And people's value,

not by their loyalty nor their goodness,

but by the money they have

and by their audacity.

I could have you dismissed, just like that.

But I won't do it.

Firstly, because I consider myself a just man,

and secondly, because I can tell

where there is ability.

That's why I find it hard to understand

how a man like you

can resign himself to ending up as a clerk

in Muros or Loreña, and that's if you're lucky.

Don't be childish.

I've always wondered if I'd be capable

of accepting an offer as good as the one you're making me.

And...?

It seems the time has come to find out.

My answer is no.

If you'll excuse me, good afternoon.

Urbano!

A prince's gift.

The girl.

She's pretty, by God.

Congratulations.

This meeting you've called

to revise the tax regulations is illegal.

What do you mean? Liar!

It's the truth, you scoundrel!

If the taxes have been debated and approved

for this fiscal year,

there is no reason to raise them arbitrarily now

for certain estates,

just to favor your family interests.

What family interests? You're a slanderer!

Don't applaud!

You hear what this upstart Chanfaina is saying, gentlemen?

He's calling me corrupt.

I, who have only ever acted in benefit of the municipality.

I, who have achieved that next year

the coal railway will pass through here

and link us with all the coalfields

and with the coast!

What a cheek!

You're not bringing the railway to Cenciella,

the Government of Madrid is.

That's a lie!

You're lying!

Scoundrels!

And you know what I say?

Better an upstart than a coach robber!

Don't say that to my father!

Who, I?

I, a coach robber?

Everyone knows that.

How else did you make your fortune?

Robbing coaches in La Rioja,

when the railway line was being laid in the north.

- That's true! - It's a lie!

Order, gentlemen, please!

Remember this is a public meeting!

Respect where you are

and respect yourselves.

Please!

Secretary,

there is no judge here.

Everything the mayor does is in his own interests.

Mr. Becerril divides up the contribution as he pleases.

He sets the quota for each person.

He divides up inheritances as he chooses.

He passes rulings as he fucking pleases!

Get out of here!

No one is throwing me out of here, much less a fox like you.

- I'm a councilor! - And I am the mayor!

The authority,

the law!

In that case, I shit on your law!

Oh, yes?

Don't even think of touching me.

Madison Square Garden.

I saw John L. Sullivan box there.

I arrived in New York the year they knocked it down.

1889.

I don't like the new one, it's a blatant copy of the Giralda.

Parrula,

would you say that New York

has got a Sunday light?

That too.

It seems Halley's comet has got a longer tail than it should.

How come?

Well, first of all Halley has arrived...

Good morning.

It's arrived full of electricity.

They say that isn't good.

And its tail has left us a lethal gas called cyanogen.

Cya... what?

Cyanogen.

Oh, cyanogen.

And what's that?

I don't know,

but apparently we're all going to be poisoned

in a matter of months.

You're always so optimistic.

Good morning.

That's Don Atila.

Get out.

- 'Morning. - 'Morning.

Don Atila wants to speak to you.

- Now? - Yes.

Don't go, Urbano.

Why not?

Just don't. This isn't a working day.

He can speak to you tomorrow in the Council.

Don't worry, sweetheart, it's nothing bad, just the opposite.

I won't be long.

Don't worry.

What can I do for you, Don Atila?

Shut up!

Urbano!

Let me go!

Tie his hands!

Do you like it, slut?

- Bastards! - Shut up!

See how the slut's enjoying it?

What about me, master?

Idiot.

This had nothing to do with vice,

this was politics.

During the remaining days until the wedding,

Estrella was ill,

with a high temperature and shaking,

but Urbano was opposed to postponing the ceremony.

The bride asked that it should be at dawn,

on a weekday,

in the Santo Med é chapel

on the outskirts of town

with only the indispensable guests.

They went on honeymoon just as they had planned.

They spent ten days in Pilares.

They stayed in the Savoy Hotel

and went to restaurants,

to the theater and to the cinematograph.

And they walked in parks

and looked in stores and at window displays.

I love you.

I know.

I love you.

I know.

But there are moments when

not even your love

can cleanse my memory.

The other day, when you went out to paint

and I waved you off from the window,

when you disappeared

I stood staring into space

and I wanted to get ahead of God's will.

No, thank you, Regina.

I'm going to bed. I'm tired from the journey.

Good night.

Things are being said in town.

When are you taking them before the judge?

And have it go to court?

And have Estrella forced to recount it with her own lips

in front of the judge and jury?

And then the publicity in the newspapers...

Don't you realize that would kill her?

Now,

the only one who matters is Estrella.

She has to forget.

Dishonor, even if it's forgotten,

doesn't end

while others remember it.

But she isn't dishonored, she's the victim.

They're the ones who are dishonored.

But she feels it like that

and so do I.

And if you don't feel the same, you don't have blood in your veins.

My heart is broken,

but I'm trying to keep my reason.

I can't accept that the damage is irreparable. I won't accept it.

I know that if a bird's wings are broken,

it can't fly again. I know that's irreparable.

But I also know

that even if Estrella's soul seems to be shattered in a thousand pieces,

it isn't.

It isn't.

And with our help, Mr. Joaco,

she'll fly some day.

Forget about birds.

She's the only one who matters,

for now.

"...and due to my wife's health,

I urgently request

the secretaryship in Tejeros..." Blah blah.

He has attached medical certificates

issued by Don Ramón.

And so we can throw the turtle doves out of Cenciella on their ear,

I approve,

I sign,

and that's that.

Matter resolved.

Now, we'll move on.

I didn't know you were a poet, Longinos.

"A little lamb,

the color of honey,

was laid in the meadow

"by three young bulls, three."

Was that it?

I... I... Look, master...

One night I was a bit tipsy

but I didn't say anything that could compromise you, master,

or the boys.

Son of a bitch!

There's no worse witness for the master

than a resentful, envious servant.

I'd never betray you.

I'll stop blathering.

No more yackety yack.

I swear it.

I'll stop drinking.

I swear, master, I swear.

Laws and women

are there to be violated

when they cause us problems.

But,

blabbermouths...

What do we do with blabbermouths?

If we prescribe a change of air?

Forgive me!

Forgive me!

Forgive me!

Longinos, Longinos!

What shall we do with you?

Name of the father?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

No, your name, Gumersindo. Gumersindo what?

Gumersindo Elías Martín, at your service.

Gumersindo

Elías

Martín. Good.

And the child's name?

Marela, sir.

You're giving your daughter the cow's name?

Yes, don't you like it?

She died the day the child was born.

Marela was a very smart cow and I want the child to go to school.

Marela Elías.

And your wife?

She'd given us three calves when she got tuberculosis.

Lugérica Rendueles Meana. Also at your service, sir.

Marela

Elías

Rendueles

Martín

Meana.

The mountain air is doing you good.

You've got your color back.

Don't you see it when you look in the mirror?

He's such an unusual phenomenon,

so close to saintliness,

or to idiocy,

that even if you don't want to you end up being fond of him.

He's a decent man.

Today, a miracle.

I'm not like that.

I'm not a dog who runs away when he's stoned.

I'm the kind who turns

and bites.

Do you know Yonkers?

It's very close to New York.

An hour by car.

It reminds you a bit of those villages in the English countryside,

but with more life.

It's full of

electric trams,

stores,

restaurants,

advertisements that light up at night.

And worse things,

but no "Chorizos" or "Becerrils".

Estrella would love it.

The main street isn't straight, it zig-zags.

Why was a Uruguayan like you

so far from home?

A Uruguayan is never far from home.

Don't you see the River Plate in my eyes?

Here!

A little more?

Thank you.

The best music, apart from the waltzes,

is German.

Beethoven,

and, above all, the child prodigy, Mozart.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

He's lively and elegant,

malicious and serene.

His music is of everyone and for everyone.

That's his greatness.

Now, there's a lot of talk about Wagner,

and rightly so, although Wagner's music

is pure philosophy.

Mozart...

Wagner...

- Don Urbano! - Good evening.

Good evening.

Now! It's early.

- Does Joaco know? - No, I came straight here.

All right, go and fetch Joaco while I get my bag.

We'll meet at the Fuentona path.

- Wouldn't it be... - Urbano,

calm down. Excuse me.

Has she been vomiting frequently these last days?

Yes.

Then it's a boy.

Good evening.

If all goes well,

what will you do with whatever is born?

I don't understand.

Of course you do.

You understand me perfectly.

I'm saying that I'd understand everything,

from getting rid of it

to taking it to the orphanage.

That would be a crime.

It's Estrella's child.

That's enough.

Don't you realize?

You say that to me?

I can say it, after all it's got my blood.

But you?

How is the child to blame?

You should be canonized.

Everything went fine.

It's a boy.

Come on, grandpa.

Let's go see him.

I know that the little tyke is growing and growing,

and that the appearance of the first tooth

was a real event.

Full stop.

"Real event..."

In no time,

he'll be running along on the handle of a broom

as if it were a horse, and shouting Giddyup!

Is that one word or two?

Giddyup, like the kids say it.

The kids say it like two words. Giddy up!

Since when is it two words?

Don't complicate things, just keep writing.

We also know that Mr. Joaco has gone to live with you

and no power on earth can separate him from Joaquinito.

Full stop. Same line.

Political power is now in the hands of the Chorizos.

Chanfaina is the new mayor, and so

he no longer lives here.

He's bought himself a big house next to the square.

And if you want to know truth,

things are just as bad or worse as with the Becerrils.

Full stop. Same line.

As for Longinos, we are still "in albis".

Don Ramón was transferred to Pilares

as head of I don't know what,

but it's very important.

Full stop. New paragraph.

At this moment,

I'm crying,

but with happiness.

I inform you herewith...

"I inform you herewith that I'm going to marry Deogracias Alpaca."

When you know him well, he's a good man.

He's getting out of the bad habit of spitting,

because I'm always preaching at him.

He still hasn't learned to spit inside the spittoon,

but I realize that that is very difficult,

but every day he spits closer.

I'll say goodbye.

Lots of hugs

for Estrella and the baby

whom I hope to meet soon,

and for Regina.

I want you to know that you're missed.

God bless you.

"Your humble servant, Predestinación Sánchez."

And I can just get stuffed.

I'm going to paint.

Of course, grandpa, it's Sunday.

I'll go with you.

HERRERO BANK

The world is getting smaller, Joaco.

And news from everywhere reaches everywhere.

There'll always be a peddler from the area

who'll talk about it in some bar or inn.

Look.

A few weeks ago

a pen-pusher from a local paper

referred to what never should have happened.

And he does it with a disgusting

ghoulishness and delight.

That's what sells today.

It's a good idea, Joaco.

This is what they gave me for the house, the orchard,

the lands in Granda and the shares.

Your tickets.

What about you, grandpa?

I'm not of an age to go traveling.

And it was always my wish

to end my days in this land.

And it's good to fulfill your wishes.

Estrella,

Regina,

I'd like to speak to Joaco alone. It's just for a moment.

Please.

Before I leave,

I have to go back to Cenciella.

Why?

Because you must do things when you have to do them.

Not before, not after.

And now

the time has come.

I found it hard to understand you.

But I admit you did the best thing.

What I'm asking you

is that you continue to be as you are

and let me be as I am.

Things change.

Before, like you said,

all that mattered was Estrella.

Now, son,

all that matters

are you three.

He's a cherub!

A noisy cherub.

How are you?

I'm going to miss you, Cova.

And I'll miss you.

It's odd.

I'm sad and content at the same time!

Sad because God knows if I'll see you again

and content because I know you'll be happy there.

You think so?

I'm sure.

Tell me about Urbano. Tell me everything, like always.

I love him, Cova,

I love him.

And at times, it isn't that I hate him

but I don't understand him.

He loves this child as he loves me.

He doesn't know resentment.

I've never seen in his eyes,

never, never, never,

even a second of darkness.

He's got no bad thoughts.

I don't know what he's made of,

but he's like that, as clear as crystal.

The time that his embraces last,

I forget,

I forget everything.

And when he separates his body from mine,

his warmth still clings to me for several hours.

He knows what I feel.

And he always, always rescues me from sorrow.

Estrella,

my dear friend,

you're going to cross the ocean

with a beautiful son

and with a husband who is a hero of goodness.

Your love is like the kind found in novels,

the kind we always dreamed of.

You're going to be fine!

You'll be very happy.

Look what I have for you.

It'll never go out of fashion.

Your tea colored blouse!

Your wonderful tea colored blouse.

You met him in this!

I've got something for you too.

So you don't forget me.

And so you tell this American baby all about me.

MAIL

I bought it in a store called Tiffany's.

It's for you.

For me?

It's beautiful.

Thank you.

Did Parrulo tell you I was a dancer and singer?

A queen of vaudeville?

I want this music box

to have a new life.

- I'm an expert in new lives. - I know.

For you.

It's a wonderful city.

Parrulo always said:

The first word tells you that.

"New".

I'd have loved to have met Parrulo when he sailed in pirate ships.

But when I met him he was a salesman,

an impresario, a gambler,

after the disaster he had in Mexico with the turpentine factory.

He loved you, Joaco,

like a brother.

I'll tell you a secret.

You know how he died?

It wasn't saving a child in the Hudson.

He jumped

from Brooklyn Bridge

for a wager.

He got out of the river

but that night he died, all smashed up.

Before, he said to me:

"Listen, sweetheart, this guy's going."

I've got a little business there.

"Work at it for a while and then sell it."

He leant his head against the wall

and...

What's going on?

What's all this racket?

We're in the Lord's house!

Listen! Listen, everyone! Listen to me!

They've killed Leto and Tarin!

Order! Order!

Joaco, for God's sake, don't shoot.

Joaco!

Please!

Joaco, put down the gun, please.

Joaco!

Joaco,

my friend,

how could you make me do this?

When Estrella and Urbano,

wrapped in the orange mist of dawn,

saw the city,

so close and so new

that it seemed like an incandescent cut-out,

they felt as if, at last, they were waking from a terrible nightmare,

because that blaze of harmony

that recalled the splendor that radiates from good people,

had caused the darkness,

the black pit in which they had lived for so many months,

to disappear for ever.

And that Sunday light

would illuminate them now for the rest of their lives.