All language subtitles for dsdsdsdsds

THE MISER

What, dear Élise,
you grow sad...

...after having given me such dear
tokens of your love.

I see you sigh in
the midst of my joy.

Can you regret having
made me happy?

Do you repent of the engagement
which my love has forced from you?

No, Valère, I do not regret
what I do for you.

I feel carried on
by too delightful a power...

...and I do not even wish that things
should be otherwise than they are.

Yes, I am anxious
about the consequences.

I greatly fear that I love you
more than I should.

What can you fear from the
affection you have shown me?

Alas! A hundred things at a time.

The anger of my father the
reproaches of my family...

...the censure of the world...

...and, above all, Valère,
a change in your heart.

I fear that coldness with which your sex repays
the too warm proofs of an innocent love.

Do not judge of me by others.

Think me capable of everything, Élise,
except of falling short of what I owe to you.

I love you too much for that.

And my love will be as lasting
as my life.

Ah! Valère, all men
say the same thing.

All men are alike in
their words.

Their actions only show the difference
that exists between them.

Then why not wait for actions...

...if by them alone you can judge
of the truthfulness of my heart?

Do not suffer your anxious fears to
mislead you, and to wrong me.

Do not let an unjust suspicion destroy the
happiness which is to me dearer than life...

...but give me time to show you by a thousand
proofs the sincerity of my affection.

How easily do we allow ourselves to
be persuaded by those we love.

Valère, I feel sure that your heart is
utterly incapable of deceiving me...

...that your love is sincere, and that
you will ever remain faithful to me.

If I grieve, it will only be over
the difficulties of our position.

But why even this fear?

If everybody knew you as I do,
I should not have much to fear.

I find in you enough to
justify all I do for you.

My heart knows all your merit...

...and feels, moreover, bound to you...

...by deep gratitude.

How can I forget that
horrible moment when...

...we met for the
first time?

Your generous courage...

...in risking your own life to save
mine from the fury of the waves.

Your tender care afterwards,
your constant attentions...

...and your ardent love...

...which neither time nor
difficulties can lessen.

For me you neglect your
parents and your country...

...you give up your
own position in life...

...to be a servant of my father.

How can I resist the influence
that all this has over me?

Is it not enough...

...to justify in my eyes
my engagement to you?

Yet, who knows if it will be enough
to justify it in the eyes of others?

And how can I feel sure that
my motives will be understood?

It is by my love alone
that I trust to deserve you.

As for your scruples, your father himself
justifies you but too much before the world.

And his avarice might authorise
stranger things still.

Forgive me, my dear Élise, for
speaking thus before you...

...but you know that,
no good can be said of him.

However, if I can find my parents,
as I fully hope I shall...

...they will soon be
favourable to us.

I am expecting news of
them with great impatience...

...but if none comes I will
go in search of them myself.

Oh no! Do not leave me. Try rather to
ingratiate yourself in my father's favour.

You can see how I set about it...

...and the manoeuvres I have had
to use in order to introduce myself...

...into his service.

You know what a part
I play to acquire his affection.

I succeed wonderfully well...

...and I feel that to obtain favour with men,
pretend to be of their way of thinking.

Fall in with their maxims, praise their defects,
and applaud all their doings.

One need not fear to overdo it...

...for however gross the
flattery...

...the most cunning are easily duped.

There is nothing so
impertinent or ridiculous...

...which they will not believe, provided
it be well seasoned with praise.

Honesty suffers, I acknowledge...

...but when we have need of men,
we must adapt ourselves to them...

...and if we have no other hope of success,
it is not after all the fault of the flatterer...

...but the fault of those
who wish to be flattered.

Why do you not try also
to gain my brother's goodwill...

...in case the servant
should betray our secret?

I am afraid I cannot
humour them both.

The temper of the father
is so different from that of the son.

Rather try your brother
yourself.

Make use of the love
that exists between you...

...to enlist him in our cause.

I leave you, for he's coming.

Speak to him, sound him,
and see how far we can trust him.

I fear I shall never have the courage
to speak to him of my secret.

I am very glad to find
you alone, sister.

I longed to speak to
you and to tell you a secret.

I am quite ready to hear you, brother.
What is it you have to tell me?

Many things, sister,
summed up in one word...

Love!

You love?

Yes, I love.

But, before I say more, let me tell you
I know I depend on my father...

...and that the name of son
subjects me to his will...

...that it would be wrong to engage
ourselves without his consent...

...that heaven has made him our master
and that it is our duty...

...not to dispose of ourselves
but in accordance to their wish.

That their judgment is not biassed by
their being in love themselves...

...that they, therefore, judge better
what is good for us...

...that we ought to trust their experience
rather than the passion which blinds us...

...and that the rashness of youth
often carries us...

...to the very brink
of dangerous abysses.

I know all this, my sister,
and I tell it you...

...to spare you the trouble
of saying it to me...

...for my love will not let me
listen to anything...

...and I pray you to spare me
your remonstrances.

Have you engaged yourself,
brother, to her you love?

No, but I have determined
to do so...

...and I beseech you not to bring
orward any reason to dissuade me.

Am I such a very strange
person, brother?

No, dear sister,
but you do not love.

You know not the sweet power
that love has upon our hearts...

...and I dread your wisdom.

Alas! my brother, let us
not speak of my wisdom.

There are very few people in this
world who do not lack wisdom and...

...if I opened my heart to you, you would
think me less wise than you are yourself.

Ah! would to heaven that
your heart, like mine....

Let us speak of you first,
and tell me whom it is you love.

A young girl who has lately come
to live in our neighbourhood...

...and who seems made to inspire
love in all those who behold her.

Nature, my dear sister,
has made nothing more lovely...

...and I felt another man
the moment I saw her.

Her name is Marianne...

...and she lives with
a good, kind mother...

...who is almost always ill...

...and for whom the dear girl
shows the greatest affection.

She waits upon her, pities
and comforts her...

...with a tenderness that would
touch you to the very soul.

Whatever she undertakes is
done in the most charming way...

...and in all her actions
shine a wonderful grace...

...a most winning gentleness,
an adorable modesty, a...

Ah, my sister, how I wish
you had but seen her.

I see many things in what
you tell me, dear brother...

...and it is sufficient for me to know you
love her for me to understand what she is.

I have discovered, without their
knowing it that they...

...are not in good circumstances, and have
barely enough to cover their expenses.

Can you imagine, my sister...

...what happiness it must be to improve
the condition of those we love...

...skilfully to bring about some relief to
the modest wants of a virtuous family?

And think what grief...

...it is for me to find myself
deprived of this great joy...

...through the avarice of a father,
and for it to be impossible for me...

...to give any proof of my
love to her who is all in all to me.

Yes, I understand, dear brother,
what sorrow this must be to you.

It is greater, my sister,
than you can believe.

For is there anything more cruel than
this mean economy to which we are subjected?

This strange penury
in which we are made to pine?

What good is it to have a fortune if it only
comes to us when we are not able to enjoy it.

If now to provide for my daily maintenance
I get into debt on every side.

If both you and I are reduced daily to beg the help of
tradespeople in order to have decent clothes to wear?

I wanted to ask you to help me sound
my father concerning my present feelings...

...and if I find him opposed to them...

...I am determined to go and live
elsewhere with this most charming girl...

...and to make the best of
what Providence offers us.

I am trying everywhere
to raise money for this purpose...

...and if your circumstances,
dear sister, are like mine...

...and our father opposes us...

...let us both leave him...

...and free ourselves from the tyranny in which
his hateful avarice has for so long held us.

It is true that every day he gives us more reason
to regret the death of our mother, and that....

I hear his voice. Let us go a little
farther and finish our talk.

We will afterwards join our forces to make a
common attack on his hard and unkind heart.

Get out of here, this moment.

Be gone out of my house...

...you sworn pickpocket, you
veritable gallows' bird.

I never saw anything more wicked
than this cursed old man...

...and I truly believe
that he is possessed with a devil.

What are you muttering
there between your teeth?

Why do you send me away?

You dare to ask me my reasons?
Out with you, before I thrash you.

What have I done to you?

Done this, that I wish you to be off.

My master, your son, gave me
orders to wait for him.

Go and wait for him
in the street, then.

Don't stay here to see what is going on,
and to make your profit of everything.

I won't always have before
me a spy on all my affair...

...a treacherous scamp, whose cursed eyes
watch all my actions...

...covet all I possess, and ferret about in every
corner to see if there is anything to steal.

How do you want me to...

To steal!

Are you a man
likely to be robbed ...

...when you put every possible
thing under lock and key...

...and mount guard day and night?

I will lock up whatever I think fit,
and mount guard when and where I please.

Did you ever see such spies as are set
upon me to take note of everything I do?

I tremble for fear he should
suspect something of my money.

Now, aren't you a fellow to give rise to
stories about my having money hid here?

You have some money
hid in your house?

No, scoundrel!
I do not say that.

I am furious!

I only ask if you do not spread
abroad the report that I have some?

What does it matter whether you have
money, since it is all the same to us?

You want to argue, do you?
Get out of the house.

Very well. I am going.

Wait.

Are you carrying anything
away with you?

What can I possibly carry away?

Come here, and let me see.

Show me your hands.
-There they are.

The others.

The others?
-Yes.

There they are.

Have you anything hid
in here?

Look for yourself.

These wide knee-breeches are convenient
receptacles of stolen goods...

...and I wish a pair
of them had been hanged.

How richly such a man
deserves what he fears...

...and what joy it would be
to me to steal some of his.

What?

What is it you talk of stealing?

I say that you feel about everywhere
to see if I have been stealing anything.

And I mean to do so too.

Plague take all misers
and all miserly ways!

Eh? What do you say?

What do I say?

Yes. What is it you say about
misers and miserly ways.

I say plague take all misers
and all miserly ways.

Of whom do you speak?

Of misers.

And who are they, these misers?

Villains and stingy wretches!

But what do you mean by that?

Why do you trouble yourself
so much about what I say?

I trouble myself because
I think it right to do so.

Do you think I am speaking about you?

I think what I think, but I insist you tell
me to whom you speak when you say that.

To whom I speak? I am speaking
to the inside of my hat.

And I will, perhaps, speak to
the outside of your head.

Would you prevent
me from cursing misers?

No, but I will prevent you from
prating. Hold your tongue.

I name nobody.

Another word, and I'll thrash you.

He whom the cap fits,
let him wear it.

Will you be silent?

Yes, much against my will.

Just look, here is one more pocket.
Are you satisfied?

Come, give it up to me...

without all that fuss.

Give you what?

What you have stolen from me.

I have stolen nothing
at all from you.

Are you telling the truth?

Yes.

Good-bye, then, and now
you may go to the devil.

That's a nice way
of dismissing anyone.

I leave it to your
conscience, remember!

This rascally valet is a
constant vexation to me...

...and I hate the very sight
of the good-for-nothing cripple.

It is no small anxiety to keep
by one a large sum of money...

...and happy is the man who has all
his cash well invested...

...and who needs not keep by him more
than he wants for his daily expenses.

I am not a little puzzled to find in the
whole of this house a safe hiding-place.

Don't speak to me of your
strong boxes.

I will never trust to them.

Why, they are just the very
things thieves set upon.

Meanwhile, I hardly know whether
I did right to bury in my garden...

...the ten thousand crowns which were
paid to me yesterday.

Ten thousand crowns in
gold is a sum sufficiently...

Good heavens!
I have betrayed myself.

My warmth has carried me away.
I believe I spoke aloud .

What do you want?

Nothing, father.

Have you been here long?

We have only just come.

Did you hear?
-What?

There.
-What?

What I was just now saying.
-No.

You did.
-I beg your pardon, father but we did not.

I see well enough that you
overheard a few words.

I was only talking to myself about
the trouble one has nowadays...

...to raise any money.

And I was saying that he is a fortunate man
who has ten thousand crowns in his house.

We were afraid of coming near you,
for fear of intruding.

I am very glad to tell you this, so that
you may not misinterpret things...

and imagine that I said that it was
I who have ten thousand crowns.

We do not wish to
interfere in your affairs.

Would that I had them,
these ten thousand crowns.

I should not think that...

What a capital affair
it would be for me.

There are things...

I greatly need them.

I fancy that...

It would suit me exceedingly well.

And I should not have to complain,
as I do now, that the times are bad.

You have no reason to complain and everyone
knows that you are well enough off.

How? I am well enough off!
Those who say it are liars.

Nothing can be more false, and they
are scoundrels who spread such reports.

Don't be angry.

It is strange that my own children
betray me and become my enemies.

Is it being your enemy to say
that you have wealth?

Yes, it is.

Such talk and your extravagant
expenses will be the cause...

...that some day thieves
will come and cut my throat...

...in the belief
that I am made of gold.

What extravagant expenses
do I indulge in?

Is there anything more scandalous...

...than this sumptuous attire with
which you jaunt it about the town?

I was remonstrating
with your sister yesterday...

...but you are still worse.

It cries vengeance to heaven and
were we to calculate all you are wearing...

...we should find enough
for a good annuity.

I have told you a hundred times,
that your manners displease me...

...you affect the marquis terribly...

...and for you to be always dressed
as you are, you must certainly rob me.

Rob you? And how?

Where else could you find money enough
to clothe yourself as you do?

I play...

...and as I am very lucky, I spend in
clothes all the money I win.

It is very wrong. If you are lucky
at play, you should profit by it...

...and place the money you
win at decent interest...

...so that you may
find it again some day.

I should like to know, for instance,
what need there is for all these ribbons...

...with which you are decked
from head to foot...

...and if half a dozen tags are not
sufficient to fasten your breeches.

What necessity is there to spend money
upon wigs, when we have hair of our own growth...

...which costs nothing?

I will lay a wager that, in wigs and ribbons alone,
there are certainly twenty pistoles spent...

...and twenty pistoles brings in at least eighteen
livres six sous eight deniers per annum...

...at only eight per cent interest.

You are quite right.

Enough on this subject.
Let us talk of something else.

I believe they are making signs
to one another to pick my pocket.

What do you mean by those signs?

We are hesitating as
to who shall speak first...

... for we both have
something to tell you.

And I also have something to tell you both.

We wanted to speak to you...

...about marriage, father.

The very thing ...

I wish to speak to you about.

Ah! my father!

What is the meaning of that exclamation? Is it
the word or the thing itself that frightens you?

Marriage may frighten us both
according to the way you take it...

...and our feelings may perhaps
not coincide with your choice.

A little patience, if you please.
You need not be alarmed.

I know what is good for you both...

...and you will have no reason to complain
of anything I intend to do.

To begin at the beginning.

Do you know, tell me...

...a young person, called Marianne...

...who lives not far from here?

Yes, father.

And you?

I have heard her spoken of.

Well, my son,
and how do you like the girl?

She is very charming.

Her face?

Modest and intelligent.

Her air and manner?

Perfect, undoubtedly.

Do you not think that such a girl
well deserves to be thought of?

Yes, father.

She would form a very desirable match?

Very desirable.

That there is every likelihood of her
making a thrifty and careful wife?

Certainly.

And that a husband might
live very happily with her?

I have not the least doubt about it.

There is one little difficulty.

I am afraid she has not the
fortune we might reasonably expect.

Riches are of little importance when one
is sure of marrying a virtuous woman.

I beg your pardon.

If we do not find as much
money as we could wish...

...we may make it up in
something else.

That follows as a matter of course.

I must say that I am very much pleased to
find that you entirely agree with me...

...for her modest manner and her
gentleness have won my heart...

...and I have made up my mind to marry her,
provided I find she has some dowry.

What?

You are resolved, you say...?

To marry Marianne.

Who? You? You?

Yes, I, I, I.

What does all this mean?

I feel a sudden dizziness...

...and I must withdraw for a while.

It will be nothing. Go quickly into the kitchen
and drink a large glass of cold water.

There goes one of your effeminate fops,
with no more stamina than a chicken.

That is what I have resolved
for myself, my daughter.

As to your brother, I have thought of a
certain widow, of whom I heard this morning.

And you I shall give to Mr. Anselme.

To Mr. Anselme?

Yes, a staid and prudent man...

...who is not above fifty...

...and of whose riches
everybody speaks.

I have no wish to marry,
father, if you please.

And I, my little girl, my darling, I
wish you to marry, if you please.

I beg your pardon, my father.

I beg your pardon, my daughter.

I am the very humble
servant of Mr. Anselme...

...but, with your leave,
I shall not marry him.

I am your very humble servant, but
you will marry him this very evening.

This evening?
-This evening.

It cannot be done, father.

It will be done, daughter.

No.
-Yes.

No, I tell you.
-Yes, I tell you.

You will never force
me to do such a thing.

I will force you to it.

I had rather kill myself
than marry such a man.

You will not kill yourself,
and you will marry him.

Did ever any one hear a daughter
speak in such a fashion to her father?

But did ever anyone see a father marry
his daughter after such a fashion?

It is a match against which
nothing can be said.

And I know that it will be approved
of by no reasonable person.

There is Valère coming.

Shall we make him
judge in this affair?

Willingly.

You will abide by what he says?

Yes, whatever he thinks right, I will do.

Agreed.

Come here, Valère.

We have chosen you to decide who is
in the right, my daughter or I.

It is certainly you, sir.

But have you any idea of
what we are talking about?

No, but you could not be in the
wrong. You are reason itself.

I want to give her to-night, for a husband,
a man as rich as he is good...

...and the hussy tells me to my face
that she scorns to take him.

What do you say to that?

What I say to it?

I say that I am of your opinion,
and that you cannot but be right...

...yet, perhaps, she is not
altogether wrong and...

How so? Mr. Anselme is
an excellent match.

He is a nobleman of simple
habits, and extremely well off.

He has no children left
from his first marriage.

Could she meet with anything
more suitable?

It is true.

But she might say that
you are going rather fast...

...and that she ought to have
at least a little time to consider...

It is an opportunity I must not
allow to slip through my fingers.

I find an advantage here
which I should not find elsewhere...

...and he agrees to
take her without dowry.

Without dowry?

Yes.

Ah! I have nothing more to say.

A more convincing reason could
not be found, and she must yield to that.

It is a considerable saving to me.

Undoubtedly, this admits of no contradiction.

It is true that she might represent to
you that marriage is a serious affair...

...that the happiness or misery of
a whole life depends on it...

...and that an engagement which
is to last till death ...

...ought not to be entered into
without great consideration.

Without dowry!

You are right.

That must of course decide everything.

There are people who might tell you that
on such occasions the wishes of a daughter...

...are no doubt to be considered...

...and that this great disparity
of age, of disposition...

...might be the cause of many an unpleasant
thing in a married life.

Without dowry!

It must be granted that
there is no reply to that.

Who in the world
could think otherwise?

I do not mean to say but
that there are many fathers...

...who would set a much higher value
on the happiness of their daughter...

...than on the money they may have
to give for their marriage...

...and who would try to see in a marriage
that sweet conformity of tastes...

...which is a sure pledge of honour,
tranquillity and joy, and that...

Without dowry!

That is true. Nothing more
can be said. Without dowry.

How can anyone resist
such arguments?

I fancy I hear a
dog barking.

Is anyone after my money?

Surely, Valère, you are not in earnest
when you speak to him in that manner?

I do it that I may not vex him,
and the better to secure my ends.

To resist him boldly would
simply spoil everything.

There are certain people who are only
to be managed by indirect means...

...temperaments averse from all
resistance, restive natures...

...who always kick when we would lead
them on the right road of reason...

...and who can only be led by a way opposed
to that by which you wish them to go.

Pretend to comply with his wishes. You
are much more likely to succeed in the end.

But this marriage, Valère?

We will find some pretext
for breaking it off.

But what pretext can we find if
it is to be concluded tonight?

You must feign some
illness or other.

But he will soon discover the truth
if they call in the doctor.

What do doctors know?

You may complain of anything, the doctor will
be at no loss to explain to you what is it.

Flight is the last resource we
have left us to avoid all this.

If your love, dear
Élise, is as strong as...

Yes, a daughter is
bound to obey her father.

She has no right to inquire what
a husband offered to her is like...

...and when the most important question,
"without dowry", presents itself...

...she should accept
anybody that is given her.

That was beautifully said.

I beg your pardon, sir, if I carry it too far,
and take upon myself to speak to her as I do.

I am delighted, and I wish you to
have her entirely under your control.

I give him all the authority over
you that heaven has given me...

...and I will have you do
all that he tells you.

After that, resist all my
expostulations, if you can.

I will follow her, sir, if you will allow me,
and will continue the lecture I was giving her.

Yes, do so. You will oblige me greatly.

She ought to be kept
in with a tight hand.

Do not be afraid, I believe
I shall end by convincing her.

Do so. I am going to take a stroll in
the town, and I will come back again.

Money is more precious than
anything else in the world...

...and you should thank heaven that
you have so worthy a man for a father.

When a man offers to marry
a girl without a dowry...

...we ought to look no farther.

Everything is comprised in that,
and "without dowry"...

...compensates for want of beauty,
youth, birth, honour, wisdom, and probity.

Ah, the honest fellow!

He speaks like an oracle.

Happy is he who
can secure such a servant!

How now, you rascal!
Where have you been hiding?

Did I not give
you orders to...?

Yes, sir, and I came here
resolved to wait for you...

...but your father,
that most ungracious of men...

...drove me into
the street.

How is our affair progressing?

Things are worse than ever for us...

...and since I left you, I have discovered
that my own father is my rival.

Your father in love?

Yes, and I found it difficult to hide
from him what I felt at such a discovery.

He meddling with love! What the
deuce is he thinking of?

Is love made for people of
his build?

It is to punish me for my sins that
this passion has entered his head.

But why do you hide your love from him?

That he may not suspect anything, and to
make it more easy for me to stop this marriage.

What answer did you receive?

Sir, those who borrow
are much to be pitied.

Then the affair won't come off?

Mr. Simon, the broker who
was recommended to us...

...is an active fellow, and says he has
left no stone unturned to help you.

He assures me that your looks
alone have won his heart.

Shall I have the fifteen thousand
francs which I want?

Yes, but under certain trifling conditions,
which you must accept.

Of the fifteen thousand francs...

...the lender will only be able to
count down twelve thousand.

Instead of the remaining
three thousand...

...the borrower will have to take the clothing,
and jewels from the following catalogue...

...and which the said lender has put in all
good faith at the lowest possible figure.

What is the meaning of all that?

I'll go through the catalogue.

First:

A fourpost bedstead, with
hangings of Hungary lace...

...very elegantly trimmed
with olive-coloured cloth...

...and six chairs and a
counterpane to match...

...the whole in very good condition,
and lined with soft red and blue shot-silk.

What does he want me to do with all this?
-Wait.

Plus:

Tapestry hangings representing
the loves of Gombaud and Macée.

Plus:

A large walnut table with
twelve columns or turned legs...

...which draws out at both ends, and is
provided beneath with six stools.

I'm furious.
-Have patience.

Plus:

A Bologna lute with all its strings,
or nearly all

Plus:

A lizard's skin, three feet and a half in
length, stuffed with hay...

...a pleasing curiosity to hang on the ceiling.

The whole of the above-mentioned articles
are really worth more than 4500 francs...

...and are reduced to the value of a thousand
crowns through the considerateness of the lender.

Let the plague choke him with his
considerateness, the wretch, the cut-throat!

Is he not satisfied with the interest that he must
force me to take all the rubbish he picks up.

I shan't get two hundred
crowns for all that.

Yet I must bring myself
to yield to all his wishes...

...for he is in a position to force
me to accept everything...

...and he has me, the villain,
with a knife at my throat.

I see you, sir on the high-road followed
by Panurge to ruin himself...

...taking money in advance,
buying dear, selling cheap...

...and cutting your corn
while it is still grass.

What would you have me do?

It is to this that young men are reduced
by the accursed avarice of their fathers...

...and people are astonished after that,
that sons long for their death.

Yes, sir, it is a young man
who is greatly in want of money.

His affairs force him to find some at any cost,
and he will submit to all your conditions.

But are you sure, Mr. Simon, that
there is no risk to run in this case?

And do you know the name, the property,
and the family of him for whom you speak?

No, I cannot tell you
anything for certain...

...as it was by mere chance that
I was made acquainted with him.

But he will tell you
everything himself.

And his servant has assured me that you
will be satisfied when you know who he is.

All I can tell you...

...is that his family is said to be very wealthy,
that he has already lost his mother...

...and that he will pledge you his word...

...that his father will die before
eight months are passed.

That is something.

Charity, Mr. Simon, demands of us to gratify
people whenever we have it in our power.

Evidently.

What does this mean?
Mr. Simon talking...

...with your father.

What?
-Your father talking to Simon.

What?

Ah, you are in good time!
But who told you to come here?

This is the gentleman who wants
to borrow the 15000 francs.

What, miscreant? Is it you who
abandon yourself to such excesses?

My father, is it you who stoop
to such shameful deeds?

It is you who are ruining yourself by
loans so greatly to be condemned.

So it is you who seek to enrich
yourself by such criminal usury.

And you dare, after that,
to show yourself before me?

And you dare, after that,
to show yourself to the world?

Are you not ashamed, tell me,
to descend to these wild excesses?

...to rush headlong into frightful expenses?

...and disgracefully to dissipate the
wealth your parents have amassed.

Are you not ashamed of dishonouring
your station by such dealings?

Of sacrificing honour to the insatiable
desire of heaping crown upon crown?

And of outdoing the most
infamous devices...

...that have ever been invented
by the most notorious usurers?

Get out of my sight, you reprobate!

Who is the more criminal in your opinion?

He who buys the money
of which he stands in need...

...or he who obtains, by unfair means,
money for which he has no use?

Begone, I say, and do not
provoke me to anger.

I am not very much
vexed at this adventure.

It will be a lesson to me to keep
a better watch over all his doings.

Sir.

Wait a moment, I will come back
and speak to you.

Is it you, my poor La Flèche?

How is it we meet here?

It is you, Frosine, and what
have you come to do here?

What I do everywhere else.

Profit as much as I possibly can by the
small talent I possess.

Have you, then, any business with
the master of this house?

Yes. I am transacting for him a matter
for which he is sure to give me a reward.

From him? You will be 'cute
if you ever get one...

...and I warn you that ready money
is very scarce hereabouts.

But there are certain services which
wonderfully touch our feelings.

Your humble servant, but as yet
you don't know Harpagon.

Harpagon is the human being
of all human beings...

...the least humane...

...the mortal of all mortals
the hardest and closest.

There is nothing more dry, more barren,
than his favour and his good grace...

...and "give" is a word for which
he has such a strong dislike...

...that he never says "I give",
but "I lend, you a good morning".

My God, but I know
the art of fleecing men.

I have a secret of touching
their affections...

...by flattering their hearts...

...and of finding out their
weak points.

All useless here.

I defy you to soften, as far
as money is concerned...

...the man we are speaking of.

He loves money better than
reputation, honour, and virtue...

...and the sight of anyone making demands
upon his purse sends him into convulsions

It is like striking him
in a vital place.

It is piercing him to the heart,
it is like tearing out his very bowels.

But he is coming. I will go.

Well, what is it, Frosine?

My God!

How well you look!

You are the very picture of health.

Who, I?

Never have I seen you looking
more rosy, more hearty.

Are you in earnest?

What?

You have never been
so young in your life...

And I know many a man of twenty-five
who looks much older than you do.

And yet, Frosine, I have
passed threescore.

Threescore! Well, and what then?

It's the very flower of manhood...

...the threshold of the
prime of life.

True, but twenty years less
would do me no harm, I think.

Nonsense.

You've no need of that...

...and you are of a build to last
out a hundred.

Do you really think so?

Decidedly.

Show me your hand.

No, I can't...

My God, what a line of life
there is there.

Where?

Don't you see how far this line goes?

Well, and what does it mean?

Look, look, look...

I said a hundred years...

...but no, it is one hundred and
twenty I ought to have said..

One hundred and twenty,
is it possible?

I tell you they will
have to kill you...

...and you will bury your children
and your children's children.

So much the better.

And what news of our affair?

Is there any need to ask?

Did ever anyone see me begin anything
and not succeed in it?

I have, especially for matchmaking,
the most wonderful talent.

I could make the Grand Turk
marry the Republic of Venice.

But we had, to be sure, no such difficult
thing to achieve in this matter.

As I know the ladies very well...

...I told them
every particular about you.

And I acquainted the mother with your
intentions towards Marianne...

...since you saw her pass in the street and
enjoy the fresh air out of her window.

What did she answer?

She received your proposal
with great joy.

And when I told her you wished that her daughter
comes to-night to assist at the marriage contract...

...which is to be signed for
your own daughter...

...she assented at once, and entrusted
her to me for the purpose.

But, Frosine, have you spoken to the mother about
the dowry she can give her daughter?

Did you make her understand that
under such circumstances...

...she ought to do her utmost
and to make a great sacrifice?

One does not marry a girl without her
bringing something with her.

What?

She is a girl who will bring you a clear
twelve thousand francs a year.

Twelve thousand francs a year?

Yes.

To begin with...

...she has been nursed and brought up
with the strictest notions of frugality.

She is a girl accustomed to live upon
salad, milk and cheese...

...and who consequently will require
neither a well served up table...

...nor all those delicacies
that another woman would want.

This is no small matter, and may well
amount to three thousand francs yearly.

Besides this...

...she only cares
for simplicity and neatness...

...she will have none of those splendid,
none of that sumptuous furniture...

...and this is worth more than
four thousand francs per annum.

Lastly...

...she has the deepest
aversion to gambling...

...and this is not very common
nowadays among women.

Let us reckon only
a fourth of that sum.

Five thousand francs a year at play...

...and four thousand in clothes
and jewels make nine thousand...

...and three thousand francs which
we count for food...

...does it not make your
twelve thousand francs?

That's not bad, but that calculation
has nothing real in it.

Excuse me.

Is it nothing real to bring you in
marriage a great sobriety...

...to inherit a great love
for simplicity in dress...

...and the acquired property of a
great hatred for gambling?

It is a farce to pretend to make up a dowry
with all the expenses she will not run into.

I could not give a receipt
for what I do not receive...

...and I must decidedly get something.

My God.

You will get enough...

...and they have spoken to me of a
certain country...

...where they have some property,
of which you will be master.

We shall have to see to that.

Frosine...

...there is one more
thing that makes me uneasy.

The girl is young, you know...

...and young people generally like
those who are young like themselves.

I am afraid that a man of my age
may not exactly suit her taste...

...and that this may occasion in my
family certain complications...

...that would in nowise be pleasant to me.

Oh, how badly you judge her.

This is one more peculiarity of
which I had to speak to you.

She has the greatest detestation
to all young men...

...and only likes old people.

Does she?

Yes, she does.

I should like you to hear
her talk on that subject.

She cannot bear at all
the sight of a young man...

...and nothing delights her more
than to see a fine old man...

...with a venerable beard.

The oldest are to
her the most charming...

...and I warn you beforehand not to
make yourself any younger than you are.

She wishes for one sixty
years old at least.

It is not more than six months ago
that on the very eve of being married...

...she suddenly broke off the match...

...on learning that her lover was
only fifty-six years of age...

...and did not put on
spectacles to sign the contract.

Only for that?

Yes, she says there is no pleasure
with a man of fifty-six...

...and most of all...

...she has a decided affection
for those who wear spectacles.

Well, this is quite new to me.

No one can imagine how
far she carries this.

She has in her room
a few pictures...

...and what do you imagine they are?

An Adonis, a Paris, an Apollo?

No, fine
portraits of Saturn...

...of King Priam...

...of old Nestor...

...and of good father
Anchises on his son's shoulders.

That's admirable.
I should never have guessed.

Indeed had I been a woman, I should
never have loved young fellows.

I should think not. Fine trumpery
indeed, these young men.

Fine jackanapes for a woman to hanker after.

I don't understand how it
is that some women dote so on them.

They must be downright idiots.

Can any one be in his senses who
thinks youth amiable?

Can those coxcombs be men, and can
one get attached to such animals?

Exactly what I say every day!
With their effeminate voices...

...their three little bits of a beard
turned up like cat's whiskers...

...their tow wigs, their flowing
breeches and open breasts.

Yes, they are famous guys
compared with yourself.

In you we see
something like a man.

There is enough to satisfy the eye.

It is thus that one should be made
and dressed to inspire love.

Then you think I am pretty well?

What?

You are charming...

...and your face would
make a beautiful picture.

Turn round a little, if you please.

You could not find anything
better anywhere.

Let me see you walk.

You have a well-shaped body...

...free and easy, as it should be...

...and one which
gives no sign of infirmity.

I have nothing the matter to speak of,
I am thankful to say.

It is only my cough, which
returns from time to time.

That is nothing.

And coughing becomes
you exceedingly well.

I have, sir, a small request
to make to you.

I am in danger of losing a lawsuit
for want of a little money.

You cannot imagine how happy
she will be to see you.

Oh! how sure you
are to please her.

And how sure that antique ruff of yours
is to produce a wonderful effect on her.

Really, sir, this lawsuit is of the utmost
importance for me.

If I lose it, I am
for ever ruined.

Sir, sir, please.

No, I can't.

I would not importune you so if I
were not compelled by necessity.

Do not refuse me the service, sir.

I beg of you. You can hardly
believe, sir, the pleasure that...

She will like you!

Sir, sir...

May the fever seize you, you stingy cur,
and send you to the devil.

The miser has held out
against all my attacks.

But I must not drop the negotiation...

...for I have the other side, and there,
at all events, I am sure of a good reward.

Here, come here, all of you.

I must give you orders
for by and by.

Come nearer, Dame Claude.

Let us begin with you.

You are ready armed, I see.

To you I commit the care of
cleaning up everywhere...

...but be very careful not to rub the furniture
too hard, for fear of wearing it out.

Besides this...

...I put the bottles
under your care during supper...

...and if any one of them is missing, or
if anything gets broken...

...you will be responsible for it,
and pay it out of your wages.

Go.

To you, Brindavoine, and
to you, La Merluche...

...belongs the duty of
washing the glasses...

...and of giving to drink...

...but only when
people are thirsty...

...and not according to the custom...

...of certain impertinent
lackeys, who urge them to drink.

Wait until you have been asked
several times...

...and remember always
to have plenty of water.

Wine without water
gets into one's head.

Be very careful not to
spoil your clothes.

You know that one of the fronts of my
doublet is covered with a large stain of oil.

And I, sir, that my breeches
are all torn behind...

...and that,
saving your presence...

Peace!

Turn carefully...

...towards the wall,
and always face the company.

And you, always hold your
hat in this fashion.

As for you, my daughter, you will look
after all that is cleared off the table...

...and see that nothing is wasted. This
care is very becoming to young girls.

Meanwhile get ready to...

...welcome my lady-love, who is coming
this afternoon to pay you a visit...

...and will take you off
to the fair with her.

Do you understand what I say?

Yes, father.

And you, my son to whom I have the
kindness of forgiving what happened earlier...

...don't receive her coldly.

Receive her coldly!
And why should I?

We know pretty well the ways of
children whose fathers marry again...

...and the looks they give to
those we call stepmothers.

But if you wish me to forget
your last offence...

...I advise you, above all
things, to receive her kindly...

...and to give her the
heartiest welcome you can.

I cannot promise you that I am very
happy to see her become my stepmother.

I would lie if I said otherwise.

But as to giving her a kind welcome...

...I promise to obey you
in that to the very letter.

Be careful you do, at least.

You will see that you have
no cause to complain.

You will do wisely.

Good, everybody, let's go...

Valère, help me with this.

Master Jacques, I kept you for the last.

Is it to your coachman or to your
cook you want to speak?

For I am both.

To both.

But to which of the two first?

To the cook.

Then wait a minute, if you please.

What the deuce is the meaning
of this ceremony?

Now I am at your service.

I have engaged myself, Master Jacques,
to give a supper to-night.

Wonderful!

Tell me, can you give us a good supper?

Yes, if you give me money.

The deuce! Always money!

I think they have nothing else to say
except money, money, money!

Always that same word in their mouth.

They always speak of money!
It's their pillow companion, money!

Never did I hear
such an impertinent answer!

Would you call it
wonderful...

...to provide good cheer
with plenty of money?

Is it not the
easiest thing in the world?

The most stupid could do as much.

But a clever man should talk of
a good supper with little money.

A good supper with little money?

Yes.

Indeed, Mr. Steward, you will oblige me
greatly by telling me your secret...

...and also by filling my place as cook...

...for you keep on meddling here,
and want to be everything.

Hold your tongue. What shall we want?

Ask that of Mr. Steward, who will give
you good cheer with little money.

I want you to answer me.

How many will there be at your table?

How many will there be at your table?

Eight or ten, but you must
only reckon for eight.

When there is enough for eight,
there is enough for ten.

That is evident.

Very well then, you must have
four tureens of soup...

...and five side dishes.

Soups.

Entrées.

What, do you mean
to feed a whole town?

Roast...

Traitor!

You are eating up all my substance.

Entremêts...
-More still?

Do you mean to kill everybody?

And has your master invited people
in order to destroy them with over-feeding?

Go and read a little the precepts of
health, and ask the doctors...

...if there is anything so hurtful
to man as excess in eating.

He is perfectly right.

Know, Master Jacques,
you and people like you...

...that a table overloaded with
meat is a real cut-throat...

...that, to be the true
friends of those we invite...

...frugality should reign
throughout the repast we give...

...and that according to the saying
of one of the ancients...

..."We must eat to live,
and not live to eat."

How well the man speaks!

Come near, let me embrace you for
this last saying.

The finest sentence that I have
ever heard in my life...

..."We must live to eat, and not eat..."

No, that isn't it.
How do you say it?

That we must eat to live,
and not live to eat.

Do you hear that?

Who is the great man who said that?

I do not exactly recollect
his name just now.

Remember to write down
those words for me.

I will have them engraved
in letters of gold...

...over the mantel-piece
of my dining-room.

I will not fail.

As for your supper, you
had better let me manage it.

Do so.

So much the better.
All the less work for me.

We must have some of those things of
which it is not possible to eat much.

Some good fat beans...

...and a pâté well stuffed
with chestnuts.

Something that swells up.

Trust to me.

Now, Master Jacques, you
must clean my carriage.

Wait a moment.
This is to the coachman.

You say?

That you must clean my carriage, and have
my horses ready to drive to the fair.

Your horses, sir?

Your horses, let's see.

They are not at all in a
condition to stir.

I won't tell you that they are laid up, for the
poor things have got nothing to lie upon...

...and it would not be
telling the truth.

But you make them keep such rigid fasts that
they are nothing but phantoms, ideas...

...and mere shadows of horses.

They have nothing to do.

And because they have nothing to do,
must they have nothing to eat?

It would be much better for them to
work much and eat to correspond.

It breaks my heart to
see them so reduced...

...for I love my horses...

...and when I see them suffer,
it seems as if it were myself.

Every day I take the bread
out of my own mouth...

...and it is being too hard-hearted to
have no compassion upon one's neighbour.

They only must go to the market.

No, sir. I haven't the heart to drive them.

It would go against my conscience to use
the whip to them in the state they are in.

How can they drag a carriage if they have
not even strength to drag themselves along?

Sir.

I will ask our neighbour, Picard,
to drive them...

...particularly as we shall want his
help to get the supper ready.

Be it so. I had much rather they should
die under another's hand than under mine.

Master Jacques is mightily considerate.

Mr. Steward is mightily indispensable.

Peace.

No, sir.
-Peace.

No, no.
I can't bear these flatteries.

And I can see that, whatever
this man does...

...his continual watching after the bread,
wine, wood, salt, and candles...

...is done but to curry favour
and to make his court to you.

I am indignant.

And I am sorry to hear every day
what is said of you...

...for, after all, I have a certain
tenderness for you...

...and, except my horses, you are
the person I like most.

And I would know from you, Master Jacques,
what it is that is said of me.

Certainly, sir, if I were sure you
would not get angry with me.

No, no, never fear.

Excuse me, but I am sure
you will be angry.

No, on the contrary, you will oblige me.

I should be glad to know
what people say of me.

Since you wish it, sir...

...I will tell you frankly that you are the
laughing-stock of everybody...

...that they taunt us everywhere by a
thousand jokes on your account...

...and that nothing delights people
more than to make sport of you...

...and to tell stories without
end about your stinginess.

One says that you have special
almanacks printed...

...where you double the
ember days and vigils...

...so that you may profit by the
fasts to which you bind all your house.

Another, that you always have a ready-made
quarrel for your servants at Christmas time...

...or when they leave you...

...so that you may give them nothing.

One tells a story how not long since
you prosecuted a neighbour's cat...

...because it had eaten up
the remainder of a leg of mutton.

Another says that one night you
were caught stealing your horses' oats...

...and that your coachman, that
is the man who was before me...

...gave you, in the dark, a good sound
drubbing, of which you said nothing.

What is the use of going on?

We can go nowhere but we are
sure to hear you pulled to pieces.

You are the butt and jest and
byword of everybody...

...and never does anyone mention
you but under the names of miser...

...stingy, mean...

...niggardly fellow and usurer.

You are a fool, a rascal, a scoundrel,
and an impertinent wretch.

Did not I know how it would be?

I told you I should make you
angry if I spoke the truth?

Learn how to speak.

Well, Master Jacques, your
frankness is badly rewarded.

Mr. Upstart, you who assume the man
of consequence, it is no business of yours.

Laugh at your own cudgelling
and don't come here and laugh at mine.

Master Jacques, don't get into
a passion, I beg of you.

I will put on a bold face, and if he
is afraid of me, I will pay him back somewhat.

Do you know, Mr. Grinner...

...that I am not laughing?

And that if you provoke me, I shall
make you laugh after another fashion?

Gently.

How gently? And if it does not
please me to go gently?

Come.

You are an impudent rascal.

Master Jacques...

None of your Master Jacques here!

If I take up a stick, I shall
soon make you feel it.

What do you mean by a stick?

No, I don't say anything about that.

Do you know, Mr. Conceit, that I am a man
to give you a drubbing in good earnest?

I have no doubt of it.

That you are nothing but
a scrub of a cook?

I know it very well.

And that you don't know me yet?

I beg your pardon.

You will beat me, you say?

I only spoke in jest.

I don't like your jesting.

I spoke in jest.

You are but a sorry hand at jesting.

Plague take all sincerity.
It is a bad trade.

I will cease to tell the truth.

It is all very well for
my master to beat me.

But as for that Mr. Steward,
I will be revenged on him if I can.

Do you know if your
master is at home?

Yes, he is indeed.
I know it but too well.

Tell him, please, that we are here.

Frosine, how strange I feel.

And how I dread this interview.

Why should you?
What can you possibly dread?

Alas, can you ask me?

Can you not understand the alarms of seeing the
instrument of torture to which one is to be tied.

I see very well that Harpagon is
not the torture you would embrace...

...and I can judge that the young man
you spoke of to me is still in your thoughts.

Frosine, it is a thing I
do not wish to deny.

The visits he has paid at our house have
left a great impression on my heart.

But do you know who he is?

No, I do not.

All I know is that
he is made to be loved.

That if things were left
to my choice...

...I would much rather marry
him than any other...

...and that he adds to the dread that I have
of the husband they want to force upon me.

I fully acknowledge that the senses
somewhat clash with the end I propose...

...and that there are certain inconveniences
to be endured with such a husband...

...but all that won't last...

...and his death will soon put you in a
position to take a more pleasant husband...

...who will make amends for all.

What a strange state of things that we
must look forward to the death of another.

Yet death will not fall in
with all the projects we make.

You are joking.

You marry him with the understanding
that he will soon leave you a widow.

It must be one of the articles
of the marriage contract.

It would be very wrong in him not to
die before three months are over.

Do not be offended, fair one, if
I come to you with my glasses on.

I know that your beauty
is great enough...

...to be seen with the naked eye.

But it is with glasses that
we look at the stars...

...and I maintain and uphold
that you are a star.

The most beautiful and
in the land of stars.

Here he is, in person.

O, Frosine, what a sight.

She does not answer and
it seems to me...

...shows no joy at the sight of me.

It is because she is
still quite awe-struck...

...and young girls are always afraid
of showing what they feel.

You are right.

My pretty darling, there is my daughter
coming to welcome you.

I am very late in acquitting
myself of the visit I owed you.

You have done what I
ought to have done.

You see what a great girl she is,
but ill weeds grow apace.

Oh, what an unpleasant man!

What does my fair one say?

That she thinks you perfect.

You do me too much honour,
my adorable darling.

What a dreadful creature!

I really feel too grateful to
you for these sentiments.

I can bear it no longer.

Here is my son, who also comes
to pay his respects to you.

Frosine, he is the very one
of whom I spoke to you.

Well, that is extraordinary.

You are surprised to see that
my children can be so old...

...but I shall soon get
rid of both of them.

Madam, to tell you the truth, I little
expected such an event...

...and my father surprised me when
he told me to-day of his decision.

I can say the same thing.

It is an unexpected meeting...

...and I certainly was far from
being prepared for such an event.

Madam, my father cannot
make a better choice...

...and it is a great joy to me to
welcome you here.

But I cannot say that I should rejoice if it were
your intention to become my stepmother.

I must confess that
I should find it...

...difficult to pay
you the compliment...

...and it is a title that I
cannot wish you to have.

To some this speech
would seem coarse...

...but I feel that
you understand it.

This marriage, Madam, is
altogether repugnant to me.

You are not ignorant, now
that you know who I am...

...how opposed it
is to all my own interests...

...and with my father's permission
I hope you will allow me to say...

...that, if things depended on me,
it would never take place.

What an impertinent speech to make
and what a confession to make to her!

And I must tell you that things
are much the same with me...

...and that, if you have any repugnance
in seeing me your stepmother...

...I shall have no less in
seeing you my stepson.

Do not believe that it is of my own will
that this trouble has come upon you.

I should be deeply grieved to
cause you the least sorrow...

...and unless I am forced to it
by a power I must obey...

...I will never consent to a marriage
which is so painful to you.

She is right. A foolish speech
deserves a foolish answer.

I beg your pardon, my love,
for the impertinence of my son.

He is a silly young fellow, who has not
yet learnt the value of his own words.

I assure you that he has
not at all offended me.

I am thankful that he
has spoken so openly.

I care greatly for such
a confession from him.

If he had spoken differently,
I should feel much less esteem for him.

It is very kind of you
to excuse him thus.

Time will make him wiser, and you
will see that his feelings will change.

No, father...

...they will never change...

...and I beg of you,
Madam, to believe me.

Did ever anybody see such folly?
He is becoming worse and worse.

Would you have me false
to my inmost feelings?

Again! Change your manners,
if you please.

Very well, since you wish
me to speak differently.

Allow me, Madam, to take for
a moment my father's place...

...and forgive me if I tell you I never saw
anybody more charming than you are...

...that I can understand no happiness
to equal that of pleasing you...

...and that to be your
husband is a glory...

...a felicity, I should prefer to
the destinies of the greatest princes.

Yes, Madame...

...to possess you is to possess
the best of all treasures.

...to obtain you is all my ambition.

There is nothing I would not do...

...for so precious a conquest...

...and the most powerful obstacles...

Gently, gently, my son,
if you please.

These are complimentary words
which I speak to her in your name.

I have a tongue of my own
to explain my feelings.

Bring us some chairs.

No, it is better for us to
go at once to the fair...

...in order to be back earlier, and
have plenty of time for talking.

Have the carriage ready at once.

I hope you will excuse
me, my dear...

...but I forgot to order refreshments
for you, before you went out.

I have thought of it, father.

I have ordered to be brought in
here some baskets of China oranges...

...sweet citrons, and preserves,
which I sent for in your name.

Valère, Valère!

You are afraid, father, that
it will not be enough?

I hope, Madam, that you will
have the kindness to excuse it.

It was by no means necessary.

Did you ever see a more brilliant diamond
than the one my father has upon his finger?

You must see it near.

It is a beautiful one.

It is very beautiful...

...and it possesses great lustre.

No, Madam, it is in hands
too beautiful.

It is a present my father
gives you.

I?

Is it not true, father, that you
wish her to keep it for your sake?

What?

He is making me signs that I am
to force you to accept it.

I would not...

He would not take it back.

I am bursting with rage.

It would be...
-No, I tell you, you will offend him.

Pray...
-By no means.

Plague take....

He is perfectly shocked
at your refusal.

Traitor!

You see he is in despair.

You villain!

Father, I do all I can to persuade
her to accept it.

Rascal!

You are the cause, Madam,
of my father scolding me.

Scoundrel!

You will make him ill. For goodness'
sake, hesitate no longer.

Keep the ring, since
the gentleman wishes you to.

I will keep it now, sir,
in order not to make you angry...

...and I shall take another
opportunity of returning it to you.

Sir, there is a gentleman here
who wants to speak to you.

Tell him that I cannot see him to-day.

He says he has some money for you.

Pray, excuse me,
I will come back directly.

Monsieur...

Oh! he has killed me.

What's the matter, father?
Have you hurt yourself?

The traitor...

...must have been bribed
by some of my debtors...

...to break my neck.

There is nothing serious.

I beg your pardon, sir, I thought I had
better run fast to tell you.

What are you here for?

Your two horses have
lost their shoes.

Take them quickly to the smith.

In the meantime I will do the
honours of the house for you...

...and take this lady into the garden,
where lunch will be brought.

No, not in the garden.

Very well, father.

Look after all this...

...and save as much of it as you can...

...so that we may send it back
to the tradesman again.

I will.

Let us come in here.
We shall be much better.

We can speak openly.

Yes, Madam, my brother has told me
of the love he has for you.

I assure you that I have the
greatest sympathy for you.

I feel it a great comfort in my trouble to
have the sympathy of a person like you...

...and I entreat you, Madam, ever
to retain for me a friendship...

...so capable of softening
the cruelty of my fate.

Frosine, dear Frosine,
will you not help us?

Indeed, I should like to
do so, as you know.

I feel but too ready to help...

...when I see young people
loving each other...

...in all earnestness and honesty.

What can we do in this case?

Try and think a little.

Advise us.

Invent something to undo
what you have done.

Rather a difficult piece of business.

The most disheartening part of it
all is that your father is your father.

Yes, so it is.

I mean that he will bear malice if
he sees that he is refused...

...and he will be in no way disposed to
give his consent to your marriage.

It would be well if the refusal could
be made to come from him...

...and you ought to try by
some means or other...

...to make him dislike you.

You are quite right.

Yes, right enough, no doubt.

But how in the world are
we to set about it?

Wait a moment.

Suppose we had a somewhat
elderly woman...

...with a little of the ability
which I possess...

...and able sufficiently well
to represent...

...a lady of rank...

...of some whimsical title of
a marchioness or viscountess...

...whom we would suppose to
come from Brittany.

I should have enough power
over your father...

...to persuade him that she is
a rich woman.

In possession,
besides her houses...

...of a hundred thousand
crowns in ready money.

That she is deeply
in love with him...

...and that she would marry him at any cost,
were she even to give him all her money...

...by the marriage contract.

I have no doubt he would
listen to the proposal.

For certainly he loves
you very much...

...but he loves
money still better.

When once he has consented
to your marriage...

...it does not signify much
how he finds out...

...the true state of affairs
about our marchioness.

All that is very well made up.

Depend on my gratitude,
Frosine, if you succeed.

Leave it to me.

But, dear Marianne...

...let us begin by gaining
over your mother...

...forget not, I beseech you,
those sweet persuasions...

...those loving caresses to
which nothing could be refused.

I will do all I can, and
will forget nothing.

My son is kissing the hand
of his intended stepmother...

...and his intended stepmother
does not seem much averse to it.

Can there be any
mystery in all this?

Here comes my father.

The carriage is quite ready,
and you can start when you like.

Since you are not going,
allow me to take care of them.

No, stop here. They can easily take
care of themselves, and I want you.

All consideration of stepmother aside,
what do you think of this lady?

What I think of her?

Yes, her figure, her beauty
and intelligence?

So, so.

What else?

To tell you the truth, I did
not find her such as I expected.

Her manner is that of a coquette,
her figure is awkward.

Her beauty very middling...

...and her intelligence
of the meanest order.

I do not mean to make you dislike her.
I like this stepmother as well as any other.

You spoke to her just now,
nevertheless....

I paid her several compliments in your
name, but it was to please you.

So then you don't care for her?

I? Not in the least.

I am sorry for it...

...for that puts an end to a scheme
which had occurred to me.

Since I have seen her here, I have
been thinking of my own age...

...and I feel that people would find fault
with me for marrying so young a girl.

This consideration had made me
determine to abandon the project...

...and as I had demanded her in marriage
and had given her my promise...

...I would have given her to you if it
were not for the dislike you have for her.

To me?
-To you.

In marriage?

In marriage.

It is true she is not
at all to my taste...

...but, to please you, father, I will
bring myself to marry her.

I am more reasonable than you think.
I don't wish to compel you.

Excuse me! I will make
an attempt to love her.

No, no, a marriage cannot be
happy where there is no love.

That, my father, will,
perhaps, come by and by...

...and it is said that love is
often the fruit of marriage.

No, it is not right to risk
it on the side of the man.

If you had felt any
inclination for her...

...you should have married
her instead of me...

...but as it is, I will return to my
first intention and marry her myself.

Well, father, since things are so,
I had better be frank with you...

...and reveal our secret to you.

The truth is that I have loved her
ever since I saw her one day.

I intended to ask you
today to let me marry her...

...and I was only deterred from it
because you spoke of marrying her.

Have you ever paid her any visits?

Yes, father.

Many?

Yes, considering how long
we have been acquainted.

You were well received?

Very well, but without
her knowing who I was...

...and that is why Marianne was
so surprised when she saw me today.

Have you told her of your love,
and of your intention of marrying her?

Certainly, and I also spoke a
little to the mother on the subject.

Did she kindly receive your
proposal for her daughter?

Yes, very kindly.

And does the daughter
return your love?

If I can believe appearances...

...she is certainly well
disposed towards me.

I am very glad to have
found out this secret.

It is the very thing
I wanted to know.

Now, look here, my son,
I tell you what.

You will have to get rid of
your love for Marianne...

...to cease to pay your
attentions to a person...

...I intend for myself, and to marry very
soon the wife I have chosen for you.

So, father, it is thus
you deceive me.

Since things are come
to such a pass...

...I openly declare to you that I shall
not give up my love for Marianne.

Henceforth there is nothing from which I
shall shrink in order to dispute her with you...

...and if you have on your side
the consent of the mother...

...I shall have some other
resources left to aid me.

You dare to trespass
on my grounds?

It is you who trespass on mine.
I was the first.

Am I not your father, and
do you not owe me respect?

There are things in which children are not
called upon to pay deference to their fathers...

...and love is no respector of persons.

My stick will make you know me better.

All your threatenings are nothing to me.

You will give up Marianne?
-Never.

Gentlemen, what does this mean?

I don't care a bit for it.

Such impudence!
- Sir!

I shall keep to it.

Let me do it.

To your son? To me it's different.

I will make you judge between
us, Master Jacques...

...so that you may see that
I have right on my side.

I accept.

Go a little farther back.

There is a young girl
I love and want to marry...

...and the scoundrel loves her also,
and wants to marry her in spite of me.

Oh, he is wrong.

Is it not abominable to see a son who does not
shrink from becoming the rival of his father?

And is it not his bounden duty
to refrain from interfering with my love?

You are quite right.

Let me go and speak to him.

If he wants to make you a judge
between us, I have no objection...

...and I don't mind referring
our quarrel to you.

You do me great honour.

I am in love with a young girl
who returns my affection...

...and who receives kindly
the offer of my heart...

...but my father takes it into his head
to disturb our love by asking her in marriage.

He certainly is wrong.

Is it not shameful for a man
of his age to think of marrying?

I ask you if it is right
for him to fall in love?

Ought he not now to
leave that to younger men?

You are quite right. Let me speak
a word or two to him.

Your son is not so extravagant as
you think, and is amenable to reason.

He says that he is conscious
of the respect he owes you...

...and that he only got angry
in the heat of the moment.

He will willingly submit
to all you wish...

...if you will only promise to
treat him more kindly than you do...

...and will give him in
marriage a person to his taste.

Tell him that he will obtain everything
from me on those terms...

...and that, except Marianne,
I leave him free to choose.

Except Marianne?

Except Marianne.

Leave that to me.

Your father is not so unreasonable
as you make him out to me...

...and he tells me that it is
your violence which irritated him.

He only objects to your way of doing things,
and is quite ready to grant you all you want...

...provided you will
use gentle means...

...and will give him the deference and
respect that a son owes to his father.

Master Jacques, you can assure him
that if he grants me Marianne...

...he will always find me the
most submissive of men...

...and that I shall never do
anything contrary to his pleasure.

He consents to what you say.

Nothing could be better.

He is satisfied with your
promises.

Heaven be praised!

Gentlemen, you have nothing to
do but to talk quietly together.

You are agreed and yet you
were on the point of quarrelling.

My poor Master Jacques, I shall
be obliged to you all my life.

Don't mention it.

You have given me great pleasure
and deserve a reward.

I will remember it, I promise you.

I'll kiss your hands.

I beg your pardon, father,
for having been angry.

It is nothing.

I assure you that I feel
very sorry about it.

I am very happy to see
you reasonable again.

How very kind of you so
soon to forget my fault.

One easily forgets the faults of children
when they return to their duty.

What, you are not angry with me
for my extravagant behaviour?

By your submission and respectful
conduct you compel me to forget my anger.

I assure you, father...

...I shall for ever keep in heart the
remembrance of all your kindness.

And I promise you that, in future,
you will obtain all you like from me.

I ask nothing more.

It is sufficient for me that you
give me Marianne.

What?

I say that I am only
too thankful already...

...and that when you give me
Marianne, you give me everything.

Who talks of giving you Marianne?

You, father.

I?

Yes.

Is it not you who promised
to give her up?

I, give her up?
-Yes.

Certainly not.

Did you not give up all
pretensions to her?

On the contrary.

What, scoundrel! Again?

Nothing can make me
change my mind.

Let me get at you again, wretch!

You can do as you please.
-I forbid you ever to come within my sight.

As you like.

I abandon you.

Abandon me.

I disown you.
-Disown me.

I disinherit you.

As you will.

I give you my curse.

I want none of your gifts.

Sir, you are just in the nick
of time. Quick, follow me.

What is the matter?
-Follow me, I say.

How?

Here is all you want.

I have watched for this all day.

What is it?
-Your father's treasure.

How did you manage it?
-I will tell you all about it.

Thieves!

Let us be off. I can hear him
calling out.

Thieves! Assassins!

Justice, just heavens!

I am undone, I am murdered.

They have cut my throat,
they have stolen my money.

Who can it be?
What has become of him?

Where is he? Where is he
hiding himself?

What shall I do to find him?
Where shall I run?

Where shall I not run?

Is he not here?

Is he not here?

Who is this? Stop!
Give me back my money, wretch!

Ah...! it is myself.

My mind is wandering, and I know not
where I am, who I am, and what I am doing.

My poor money...

My poor money...

My dearest friend, they have
bereaved me of thee...

...and since thou art
gone, I have lost my support...

...my consolation, and my joy.

I have nothing more
to do in the world.

Without thee it is
impossible for me to live.

I can bear it no longer.

I am dying...

I am dead, I am buried.

Is there nobody who will call me from the dead,
by restoring my dear money to me...

...or by telling
me who has taken it?

What is it you say? It is no one.

Whoever has
committed the deed...

...must have watched carefully
for his opportunity...

...and must have chosen the moment when
I was talking with my miscreant of a son.

I must go. I will demand justice, and have the
whole of my house put to the torture...

...my maids and my valets, my son,
my daughter, and myself too.

I see no one who does not rouse
suspicion in me.

Everyone seems to be my thief.

What are they speaking of there?
Of him who stole my money?

What noise is that up yonder?
Is it my thief?

If you know anything of my thief,
I beseech you to tell me.

Is he hiding there among you?

They all look at me and laugh.

We shall see that they all
have a share in the robbery.

Quick! magistrates,
police, provosts...

...judges, racks, gibbets, and
executioners.

I will hang everybody...

And if I do not find my money, I
will hang myself afterwards.

Enough!

Leave that to me.
I know my business.

This is not the first time I have been
employed in finding out thieves...

...and I wish I had as many bags of a
thousand francs as I have had people hanged.

Every magistrate must
take this affair in hand...

...and if my money
is not found...

...I shall call justice
against justice itself.

We must take all needful steps.

You say there was
in that casket?

Ten thousand crowns in cash.

Ten thousand crowns?

Ten thousand crowns.

There is no punishment great enough
for the enormity of the crime...

...and if it remain unpunished, the most
sacred things are no longer secure.

In what coins was that sum?

In good louis d'or and
pistoles of full weight.

Whom do you suspect
of this robbery?

Everybody.

I wish you to take into custody
the whole town and suburbs.

You must not, if you trust
me, frighten anybody...

...but must use gentle means
to collect evidence...

...in order afterwards to proceed with
more rigour for the recovery of the sum.

I am coming back.
Have his throat cut at once...

...have his feet singed...

...put him in boiling water...

...and hang him up to the ceiling.

What! Him who has robbed me?

I was speaking of a sucking pig...

...that your steward
has just sent me.

This is no longer the question... and you have
to speak of something else to this gentleman.

Don't get frightened.

I am not a man to cause any scandal,
and matters will be carried on by gentle means.

Is this gentleman coming
to supper with you?

You must, in this case, my good man,
hide nothing from your master.

Sir, I will show you all I know...

...and will treat you in
the best manner I possibly can.

That's not the question.

If I do not give as good
fare as I should like...

...it is the fault of your steward, who
has clipped my wings with his economy.

Rascal! We have other matters
to talk about than supper...

...and I want you to tell me what has become
of the money which has been stolen from me.

Some money has been stolen from you?

Yes.

And I'll have you hanged if you
don't give it me back again.

Don't be hard upon him.

I see by his looks that
he is an honest fellow...

...and that he will tell you
all you want to know...

...without going to prison.

Yes, my friend...

...if you confess, no harm
shall come to you...

...and you shall be well
rewarded by your master.

Some money has been
stolen from him...

...and it is not possible
that you know nothing about it.

The very thing I wanted in order
to be revenged of our steward.

Ever since he came here,
he has been the favourite.

His advice is the only
one listened to.

Moreover, I have forgotten
neither the cudgelling of to-day nor...

What are you muttering
about there?

Leave him alone. He is preparing
himself to satisfy you.

I told you that he was an honest fellow.

Sir...

...since you want me to
tell you what I know...

...I believe it is your
steward who has done this.

Valère?

Yes.

He who seemed so faithful to me!

Himself. I believe that it is
he who has robbed you.

And what makes you believe it?

What makes me believe it?
-Yes.

I believe it... because I believe it.

But you must tell us
the proofs you have.

Did you see him hanging about
the place where I had put my money?

Yes, indeed.
Where was your money?

In the garden.
-Yes, I saw him in the garden.

And in what was
your money? A casket?

The very thing.
I saw him with a casket.

And this casket, what was it like?
I shall soon see if it is mine.

What it was like?
-Yes.

It was like... like a casket.

Of course. But describe it a little,
to see if it is the same.

It was a large casket.

The one taken from
me is a small one.

Yes, small if you look
at it in that way...

...but I call it large
because of what it contains.

And what colour was it?

What colour?
-Yes.

Of a colour...

...of a certain colour.... Can't you
help me to find the word?

No.

Red, isn't it?

No, grey.

Yes, reddish-grey.
That's what I meant.

There is no doubt about it,
it's my casket for certain.

Write down his evidence, sir!

Heavens! whom can
we trust after that?

We must never swear
to anything...

I believe now that I
might rob my own self.

There he is coming back. I beg of you
not to tell him that it was I who let it all out.

Come near.

Confess the most abominable action.

The most horrible crime,
that was ever committed.

What do you want, sir?

Wretch! you do not blush for
shame after such a crime?

Of what crime do you speak?

Of what crime I speak?
Villain, as if you did not know.

It is in vain for you
to try to hide it.

The thing is discovered.

How could you
thus abuse my kindness.

Introduce yourself on purpose into
my house to betray me.

Since everything is known to you, I will
neither deny nor will I find excuses.

Have I guessed the truth?

I intended to speak
to you about it...

...and I was watching for a
favourable opportunity.

But, as this is no longer possible,
I beg of you to hear my motives.

And what fine motives can
you possibly give me?

I do not deserve these names.

I am guilty towards you,
but my fault is pardonable.

How pardonable?
Such an assassination as this!

I beseech you not to
be so angry with me.

You will see that the harm is not
so great as you make it out to be.

The harm not so great as I make it out
to be. What, my heart's blood, scoundrel!

Your blood, sir, has not
fallen into bad hands.

My rank is high
enough not to disgrace it...

...and there is nothing in all this for which
reparation cannot be made.

It is, indeed, my intention that you should
restore what you have taken from me.

Your honour, sir,
shall be fully satisfied.

Honour is not the question in all this.
Tell me what made you commit this deed?

Do you ask it?

Yes, I should rather think that I do.

A god who carries with him his excuses
for all he makes people do: Love.

Love?

Yes.

Fine love that! Fine love, indeed.
the love of my gold.

No, sir.

It is not your wealth
that has tempted me.

I swear never to pretend to any of your
possessions, provided you leave me what I have.

In the name of all the devils,
no, I shall not leave it to you.

Such villainy! He wishes to keep
what he has robbed me of.

Do you call that a robbery?

If I call that a robbery?
A treasure like that!

I acknowledge that it is a treasure,
and the most precious one you have...

...but it will not be losing
it to leave it to me.

I ask you on my knees for this
treasure so full of charms...

...and if you do right,
you will grant it to me.

I will do nothing of the kind.
What in the world are you driving at?

We have pledged our faith to each other,
and have taken an oath.

The oath is admirable, and the
promise strange enough.

Yes, we are engaged
to each other for ever.

I know well how to disengage you,
I assure you of that.

Nothing but death can separate us.

You must be devilishly
bewitched by my money.

I have told you already, sir...

...that it is not self-interest
which has prompted me.

It was not that which
prompted my heart...

...a nobler motive inspired me.

We shall hear presently that
it is out of Christian charity.

But justice, impudent rascal,
will soon give me satisfaction.

You will do as you please, and I
am ready to suffer all your violence...

...but I beg of you to believe that if there
is any harm done, I am the only one guilty...

...and that your daughter has
done nothing wrong in all this.

I should think not.

It would be strange, indeed, if my
daughter had a share in this crime.

But I will have that treasure back again...

...and you must confess to what
place you have carried off what you stole.

I have not carried it off,
and it is still in your house.

O my beloved casket!
My treasure has not left my house?

No, sir.

Then, tell me, have you taken
any liberties with...?

Liberties?

You wrong us both.

The flame with which I burn is too
pure, too full of respect.

He burns for my casket.

I had rather die than show the
least offensive thought.

I found too much modesty for that.

My cash-box modest.

All my desires were limited
to the pleasures of sight...

...and nothing criminal has profaned the
passion those fair eyes have inspired me with.

The fair eyes of my cash-box.

He speaks of it as
a lover does of his mistress.

Dame Claude knows the truth,
and she can bear witness to it.

My servant is an accomplice
in this affair?

I say, I say...

Yes, sir, she was a witness
to our engagement...

...and she helped me to persuade
your daughter to engage herself to me.

Has the fear of justice
made him lose his senses?

What rubbish are you
talking about my daughter?

I found it most difficult to make her modesty
consent to what my love asked of her.

The modesty of whom?

Of your daughter...

...and it was only yesterday that she
signed our promise of marriage.

My daughter has signed a
promise of marriage?

Yes, sir, and I have also signed.

O heavens! Another misfortune!

Write, sir, write.

Aggravation of misery!
Excess of despair!

Sir, discharge your duty...

...and draw me up an indictment
against him as a thief and a suborner.

These are names which I do not deserve,
and when you know who I am...

Guilty daughter! Unworthy
of a father like me.

Is it thus that you put
into practice my lessons?

You give your
love to an infamous thief...

...and engage yourself to
him without my consent.

But you shall both be disappointed.

Four strong walls will answer for
your conduct in the future...

...and good gallows shall do me
justice for your audacity.

Your anger will be no
judge in this affair...

...and I shall at least have
a hearing before I am condemned.

I was wrong to say gallows...
you shall be broken alive on the wheel.

Father!

Be more merciful,
I beseech you...

...and do not let your paternal
authority drive matters to extremes.

Do not be carried away by the first
outburst of your anger...

...but give yourself time to
consider what you do.

Take the trouble of inquiring about him
whose conduct has offended you.

He is not what you imagine.

Know that without him you
would long ago have lost me for ever.

Yes, father, it is he who saved me from
the great danger I ran in the waters...

...and to whom you owe the life
of that very daughter who...

It would have been much better for me if
he had suffered you to be drowned...

...rather than do what he has done.

My father, I beseech you,
in the name of paternal love...

I will hear nothing, and justice
must have its course.

You shall pay me for
the blows you gave me.

What a perplexing state of affairs!

You are quite upset,
Mr. Harpagon.

Mr. Anselme...

...you see in me the most
unfortunate of men...

...and you can never imagine what vexation is
connected with the contract you have come to sign.

I am attacked in my property. I am
attacked in my honour...

...and you see there a scoundrel who
has violated the most sacred rights...

...who has introduced himself into
my house in order to steal my money...

and seduce my daughter.

Who ever thought of your money?

They have given each other
a promise of marriage.

This insult concerns you,
Mr. Anselme...

...and it is you who ought to be
plaintiff against him...

...and who ought to prosecute him
to the utmost, in order to be revenged.

It is not my intention to force anybody,
and to lay claim to a heart already bestowed.

But as far as your interests are concerned, I am
ready to espouse them as if they were my own.

This is the gentleman,
an honest commissary...

...who will omit nothing of what
concerns the duties of his office.

Charge him as he ought to be,
and make matters very criminal.

I do not see what crime they can make
of my passion for your daughter...

...nor the punishment you think I ought to be
condemned to. When it is known who I am...

I don't care a pin
for all those stories.

The world is full, nowadays,
of those pretenders to nobility...

...of those impostors, who
take advantage of their obscurity...

...and deck themselves out with the first
illustrious name that comes into their head.

Know that I am too upright to adorn myself
with a name which is not mine...

...and that all Naples can
bear testimony to my birth.

Take care of what you
are about to say.

You risk more than you think.

You speak before a man
to whom all Naples is known...

...and who can soon see
if your story is true.

I am not the man
to fear anything...

...and if all Naples is known to you,
you know who was Don Thomas d'Alburci.

Few people know him
better than I do.

I care neither for Don Thomas
nor Don Martin.

Have patience. We shall soon know
what he has to say of him.

That it is to him that
I owe my birth.

To him?
-Yes.

You are laughing.

Try and make out a
more likely story...

...and don't pretend to shelter yourself
under such a piece of imposture.

Consider your words better
before you speak.

It is no imposture, and I say nothing
here that I cannot prove.

What?

You dare to call
yourself the son...

...of Don Thomas d'Alburci?

Yes, I dare to do so, and I am ready
to maintain the truth against anyone.

This audacity is marvellous.

Learn to your confusion...

...that it is sixteen years ago since this man died
in a shipwreck at sea with his wife and children...

...when he was trying to save their lives
from the persecutions in Naples...

...and which caused the banishment
of several noble families.

But learn to your confusion...

...that his son, seven years
of age, was, with a servant...

...saved from the wreck
by a Spanish vessel...

...and that this son is he
who now speaks to you.

The captain of that
ship befriended me...

...and brought me up as his own son.

...and that the profession of arms has
been my occupation ever since I was fit for it.

Lately I heard that
my father is not dead.

Passing this way to go and find him out,
an accident, arranged by heaven...

...brought to my sight
the charming Élise.

The sight of her made me
a slave to her beauty...

...and the violence of my love and
the harshness of her father...

...made me come into his house and send
some one else to look after my parents.

But what other proofs have you
besides your own words...

...that all this is not a fable
based by you upon truth.

The captain of
the Spanish vessel...

...a ruby seal which
belonged to my father...

...an agate bracelet which my
mother put upon my arm...

...and old Pedro, that servant who
was saved with me from the wreck.

I can answer here for what you have said,
that you do not deceive us...

...and all you say clearly tells
me that you are my brother.

You my sister?

Yes, my heart was touched
as soon as you began to speak.

Our mother often told me of the
misfortunes of our family.

Heaven spared us also
in that dreadful wreck...

...but our life was spared at
the cost of our liberty.

My mother and myself were taken up by
pirates from the wreck of our vessel.

After ten years of slavery a lucky
event gave us back to liberty...

...and we returned to Naples...

...where we found all our property
sold, and could hear no news of our father.

We embarked for Genoa, where my mother
went to gather a disputed family estate.

Leaving her unjust relatives...

...she came here,
where she has lived but a weary life.

O heaven! how wonderful
are thy doings!

How true it is that it only
belongs to thee to work miracles.

Come to my arms, my children.

Share the joy of your happy father.

You are our father?

It was for you that
my mother wept?

Yes, my daughter.

Yes, my son.

I am Don Thomas d'Alburci...

...whom heaven saved
from the waves...

...and who believing you all dead...

...after 16 years, was preparing...

...after long journeys, to seek the
consolations of a new family...

...in marrying a
gentle and virtuous woman.

The little security there
was for my life in Naples...

...has made me abandon the
idea of returning there...

...and having found the means
of selling what I had...

...I settled here...

...where, under the name of Anselme,
I wished to forget the sorrows...

...of a name associated with
so many and great troubles.

He is your son?
-Yes.

I make you responsible for the ten thousand
crowns that he has stolen from me.

He steal anything from you!
-Yes.

Who said so?
-Master Jacques.

You say that?

You see that I am
not saying anything.

He certainly did.

There is the officer who
has received his deposition.

Yes.

Can you really believe me
capable of such a base action?

Capable or not capable,
I must find my money.

Do not grieve for your
money, father...

...and accuse any one.

I have news of it...

...and I come here to tell you...

...that if you consent to let me
marry Marianne...

...your money will be
given back to you.

Where is it?

Do not trouble yourself
about that.

It is in a safe place, and I
answer for it.

It is for you to decide...

...and you have the choice...

...either of losing Marianne...

...or your cash-box.

Has nothing been taken out?

Nothing at all.

Is it your intention to agree
to this marriage...

...and to join your consent
to that of her mother...

...who leaves her at
liberty to do as she likes?

But you do not know that this
consent is no longer sufficient...

...and that heaven has given
me back a brother at the same time...

...that it has given me back a father and
you have now to obtain me from him.

Heaven has not restored you to
me to oppose your wishes.

Mr. Harpagon, you must be aware
that the choice of a young girl...

...is more likely to fall upon
the son than upon the father.

Do not force people to say
to you what is unnecessary...

...and consent, as I do, to
this double marriage.

In order for me to be well advised,
I must see my casket.

You shall see it safe and sound.

I have no money to give
my children in marriage.

Never mind, I have some.
Do not let this trouble you.

Do you take upon yourself to defray
the expenses of these two weddings?

Yes, I will take this
responsibility upon myself.

Are you satisfied?

Yes, provided you order me a new
suit of clothes for the wedding.

Agreed!

Let us go and enjoy the blessings
this happy day brings us.

Stop, sirs, stop.

Who is to pay me for my writing?

We have nothing to do
with your writing.

Indeed, and yet I do not pretend
to have done it for nothing.

There is a fellow you can
hang in payment.

What is one to do?

I receive a good cudgelling
for telling the truth...

...and now they would
hang me for lying.

Mr. Harpagon, you must forgive
him this piece of imposture.

You will pay the officer then?

Let it be so.

To see my dear casket.

Harpagon.

Good luck, dear Harpagon.