Original subtitles

In the winter of 1939

Lord Marchmain

in view of the international situation

declared his intention of returning to England

and passing his declining years in his old home.

Whatever harsh voices

might be bawling into the microphones of Central Europe

and whatever lathes spinning in the armament factories

the return of Lord Marchmain

took presence in his own neighborhood.

Julia and I, who had left Brideshead a month before

thinking we should not return

moved back for the reception.

It's the cold.

I'd forgotten how cold it is in England.

Quite bowled me over.

Can I get you anything, my Lord? Nothing, thank you.

Cara, where are those confounded pills?

The doctor said not more than three times a day.

Damn the doctor!

I feel quite bowled over.

A glass of water. Sure.

I don't feel at all the thing today.

The journey took it out of me.

Ought to have waited a night at Dover.

Wilcox, which rooms have you prepared for me?

Your old rooms, my Lord.

Not till I'm fit again.

Too many stairs

It has to be on the ground floor.

Plender, get a bed made up for me downstairs.

Very good, my Lord.

Which room shall we put it in, my Lord?

The Chinese drawing room.

Very good, my Lord.

And, Wilcox

The Queen's Bed.

The Chinese drawing room, my Lord

and the Queen's bed.

Yes, yes.

Few things could have caused more stir in the house.

The Chinese Drawing Room was one I'd never seen used.

The Queen's Bed was an exhibition piece

a vast brocade tent, like the baldachino at St Peter's.

So what had been foreseen as a day of formality

became one of fierce exertion.

The Estate carpenters were collected

to dismantle the bed

and it came down the main staircase at intervals during the afternoon.

Lord Marchmain seemed to derive comfort

from the consequences of his whim

and as he showed no inclination to move

tea was brought to us in the hall.

I daresay I shan't really be fit again until the summer comes.

I look to you four to amuse me.

Tell me the circumstances of Brideshead's courtship.

It seems he met her late husband first.

They shared the same hobby.

What was that?

Matchboxes.

Admiral Muspratt apparently had one on the finest collections

in the country.

Matchboxes.

Matchboxes.

I think she's past child-bearing.

In Italy no one believes there's going to be a war.

they think it will all be arranged.

I suppose, Julia, you no longer have access to political information

Cara, here, is fortunately a British citizen by marriage.

It is not a thing she customarily mentions

but it may prove valuable. She's legally Mrs. Hicks

are you not, my dear?

We know little of Hicks but we shall be grateful to him

if it comes to war.

And you you will I suppose be

an official artist?

No

As a matter of fact

I am negotiating now for a commission in the Special Reserve.

You should be an artist.

I had one with me during the last war, for weeks

till we went up the line.

Oh!

It really looks remarkably well.

I do congratulate you.

Yes, indeed.

Wilcox I seem to remember a silver basin and ewer

it stood in what we used to call 'The Irish Dressing Room'.

Suppose we put it here on the console.

Send Plender and Gaston to me.

Tell them not to worry about the luggage.

Just my dressing case and things for the night.

Plender will know.

Now if you'll all leave me

I'll go to bed.

We'll meet later.

You'll all come and dine with me here and keep me amused.

Of course, papa.

Charles. It really looks very well. Doesn't it?

Very well.

You might paint it, eh?

Call it 'The Death Bed'.

Did he mean that?

Yes. He has come home to die.

But this afternoon he was speaking so confidently of recovery.

That's because he was so ill.

When he is himself, he knows he is dying and accepts it.

His sickness is up and down.

One day, sometimes several days

he is strong and lively and then ready for death.

Other days he is down and afraid.

I do not know how it will be when is more and more down.

That will come in good time.

The doctors in Rome gave him less than a year.

There is someone coming from London, I think, tomorrow, who will tell us more.

What is it?

His heart.

Some long word at the heart.

He is dying of a long word.

I've not been much moved by family piety until now

but I am frankly appalled at the prospect

of Beryl taking what was once my mother's place

in this house.

Why should that uncouth couple sit here childless

while the house crumbles about their ears?

I will not disguise from you that I have taken a dislike to Beryl.

Perhaps it was unfortunate that we should meet in Rome.

Almost any other place would have been more sympathetic.

And yet, when one considers it

where could I have met her without repugnance?

We dined at Raineri's. A quite little restaurant

which I have frequented for years

no doubt you know it.

Beryl seemed to fill the place.

I of course was host

but to hear Beryl press my son with food

you would have thought otherwise.

Brideshead was always a greedy boy.

A wife with his best interests at heart would rather have tried to restrain him.

But that's a matter of small importance.

No doubt she had heard of me as a man of irregular life.

I can only describe her manner to me as roguish.

A naughty, old man, that's what I was.

I suppose she's met naughty old Admirals

and knew how they were to be humored.

I will not attempt to describe her conversation.

I will give you one example.

They had been to an audience at the Vatican that morning

a blessing on their marriage.

And do you know what she said to me?

'Lord Marchmain', she said

'I felt as though it was I who was leading the bride'.

It was said with great indelicacy

I can't yet quite fathom

what she meant.

Was she making a play on my son's name

or was she, do you think, referring to his undoubted virginity?

I fancy the latter.

I don't think she would quite be in her proper element here, do you?

Who shall I leave it to?

The entail ended with me, you know.

Sebastian, alas, is out of the question.

Who wants it?

A quiz!

Would you like it, Cara?

No, of course you wouldn't.

Cordelia?

I think I shall leave it to Julia and Charles.

Of course not, papa. It's Bridey's.

And Beryl's?

I should have Gregson down one day soon and go over the matter.

It's time I brought my will up to date.

It's full of anomalies and anachronisms

I have taken a fancy to the idea of installing Julia here.

So beautiful this evening, my dear. So beautiful always.

Much more suitable.

Do you think he really means to leave it to us?

Yes, I think he does.

But it's monstrous for Bridey.

Is it?

I don't think he cares much for the place.

I do, you know.

He and Beryl will be much more content

in some little house somewhere.

So you mean to accept?

Certainly.

It's Papa's to leave as he likes.

I think you and I could be very happy here.

Brideshead and his wife returned from their honeymoon

and stayed a few nights.

It was one of the bad times

and Lord Marchmain refused to have them near him.

"Mr Chamberlain opened his speech in Birmingham by saying

that tomorrow he would attain his seventieth birthday

and that as he felt still sound in mind and limb

he hoped he might have a few more years before him

in which to give what service he could to the State".

'this remark was greeted with cheers'.

Shall I go on?

Yes do, if it's not boring you.

No.

Chamberlain

I knew him

A mediocre fellow.

Bridey, I'm sorry.

He's terribly tired.

He can't see anyone else today.

Oh dear.

How very disappointing. Are you quite sure?

He's very exhausted.

Yes, I do see.

Perhaps tomorrow he'll be brighter.

Well I'm afraid Beryl simply can't wait any longer.

She has to get back to the children.

As you can imagine, this is very distressing for her.

She was most anxious to see him.

She formed an instant liking for him in Rome.

One morning, Father MacKay, the parish priest from Melstead

came to call as a matter of politeness.

Don't bother. I'll be alright.

Good morning.

Cordelia put him off with apologies and excuses

but when he was gone, she said 'Not yet'

Papa doesn't want him yet.

Charles, I see great Church trouble ahead.

Can't they even let him die in peace?

They mean something so different by 'peace'.

It would be an outrage.

No one could have made it plainer in his life

what he thought of religion.

They come to him now when his mind's wandering and he hasn't the strength

to resist and claim him as a death bed penitent.

I've had some respect for their religion up to now

but if they do that

then I'll know that what stupid people say is true

that its all superstition and trickery.

Don't you agree?

I don't know, Charles. I simply don't know.

The weeks of illness wore on

and the life of the house kept pace

with the faltering strength of the sick man.

No, it's too good. I don't believe it.

Cordelia, you didn't let me win on purpose, did you?

Of course not, Papa.

Wilcox says the Painted Parlour's ready.

Do you really want to do this?

What's that, Julia?

Apparently Papa told Wilcox this morning

he wants to move to the Painted Parlour.

Well, I've changed my mind.

Why should you move? You're comfortable here.

Where's she going? Where's she going?

Don't worry, Alex. She's coming back.

Do you want me to read to you?

No.

I'll get my revenge first.

I suppose you want the whites to win this one.

Once, at the end of February

he called for a car

and got as far as the north front steps.

Then suddenly he lost interest in the drive.

No, not now. Later.

Sometime in the summer.

The bad spells became longer

and more frequent.

Days and nights became indistinguishable to him.

A nurse was engaged.

I have a very serious complaint to make, Lady Cordelia.

I've never seen such a room

nothing like it anywhere in all my experience.

How can I possibly nurse his Lordship in conditions like this?

I must insist that my patient's moved

where there's running hot water

a small narrow bed that I can get round

and a dressing room for myself.

It's only what I'm used to.

I'm sorry nurse, we have tried

but it's hopeless. He won't be moved.

Then I can't answer for the consequences.

Presently there were no good spells

merely brief fluctuations in the speed of his decline.

Bridey was called back.

It was the Easter holidays

and Beryl was busy with her children.

He came alone.

Papa must see a priest.

Oh Bridey, do you think he would?

I shall see that he does.

I've just asked Father MacKay to come tomorrow.

I'll take him in myself.

Although none of us had spoken of it

I felt the question ever present

through the weeks of Lord Marchmain's illness.

I saw it when Cordelia drove off early in the mornings for Mass.

I saw it as Cara took to going with her.

Now Brideshead, in his own way

had planted the problem down before us.

Well now, Lord Brideshead, do you think the poor soul would be ready to see me?

I'm sure, Father.

Nurse said he had a good night.

Would you care to come with me?

This is all so serious.

Listen

'April events on the Riviera. '

'There will be a fete on Monte Carlo

and Mrs. Reginald Fellows has organized a charity gala. '

Indefatigable old bag!

I've brought Father MacKay to see you, Papa.

Who?

Father MacKay, Papa.

Father MacKay.

I'm afraid you've been brought here under a misapprehension.

I am not in extremis

and I have not been a practicing member of your Church

for twenty-five years.

Brideshead

I think you should see Father MacKay out

don't you?

Go on reading, darling.

The Russian ballet season will open under the direction

of Monsieur Massine

and the Battle of Flowers will take place at Nice.

Father, I can only apologize

Poor soul.

Mark you, it was seeing a strange face.

You may depend on it. That's what it was

the unexpected stranger.

Indeed I can understand it well myself.

I'm sorry, Father. It's wretched to have

brought you all this way.

Don't talk about it at all, Lady Cordelia.

Why, I've had bottles thrown at me in the Gorbals.

Give him time.

I've know worse cases make beautiful deaths.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'll pay a visit to Mrs. Hawkins.

I'll call again.

Pray for him.

Do you know your way, Father?

Indeed I do.

Do I gather the visit was not a success?

It was not.

Cordelia, will you drive Father MacKay home

when he comes down from Nanny's.

I'm going to telephone Beryl to see if she needs me at home.

Bridey

It was horrible.

What are we going to do?

We've done all we can for the moment.

Damn Bridey!

I knew it wouldn't work.

I felt triumphant.

I had been right. Everyone else had been wrong.

Truth had prevailed.

The threat I had felt hanging

over Julia and me at the fountain had been averted

perhaps dispelled forever.

Mumbo-jumbo's off.

The witch doctor's gone.

Poor papa.

It's great sucks to Bridey.

I can't quite see why you've taken it so to heart

that my father shall not have the last sacraments.

Well, it's such a lot of witchcraft and hypocrisy, isn't it?

Is it?

It's been going on for nearly two thousand years.

I really don't know why you should suddenly get so excited about it now.

For Christ's sake

write a letter to 'The Times'

get up and make a speech in Hyde Park

start a 'No Popery' riot

but don't bore me about it.

What's it got to do with you or me

whether my father sees his parish priest?

There was also

I can now confess it

another unexpressed, inexpressible

indecent, little victory

that I was furtively celebrating.

I guessed that the morning's business

had put Brideshead some considerable way further from his rightful inheritance.

In that I was correct.

A man was sent for from the solicitors in London that afternoon.

It soon became known throughout the house that Lord Marchmain

had made a new will.

I was wrong in thinking that the religious controversy

was quashed.

It flared up again that evening, after dinner.

What Papa said was 'I am not in extremis.

I have not been a practicing member

of the church for twenty-five years'.

Not 'the church', 'your church'.

I don't see the difference.

There's every difference.

Bridey, it's perfectly plain what he meant.

I presume he meant what he said.

He meant he was not accustomed

regularly to receive the sacrament

and since he was not at that moment dying

he did not intend to change his ways yet.

That's simply a quibble.

Why do people always think that one is quibbling

when one tries to be precise?

His plain meaning was that he did not

wish to see a priest that day

but that he would when he was in 'extremis'.

I wonder if there's any more coffee.

I wish somebody would explain to me

what the significance of these sacraments is.

Do you mean that if he dies without a priest

quite alone, that he goes to Hell?

And that if a priest is there and puts oil on him...

No, it's not the oil that heals him.

Odder still, well, whatever it is he does

that then he goes to Heaven? Now is that what you believe?

I think my nurse told me, or someone did anyway

that if the priest got there before the body was cold

it was all right. That's so, isn't it?

No, Cara. It isn't.

Certainly not.

You've got it all wrong.

Do any of you Catholics know exactly

what good you think this priest will do?

Do you simply want to arrange it so that your father

can have a Christian burial?

Or do you want to keep him out of hell?

I only want to be told.

They're the same thing.

To keep out of hell, as you put it

and have a Christian burial, he must make an act of the will.

He has to be contrite and wish to be reconciled.

Only God knows whether he has really made that act of will.

You mean sometimes the priest doesn't know?

Not necessarily.

So, it's quite possible that the will may still

be working when a man is too weak

to make any outward sign of it?

He may be lying as though dead.

Yes, and willing all the time to be reconciled.

God understands that, and so does the Church

so she is able to give him the last sacraments.

I never heard that before.

So, if the priest isn't there, and he makes the act of will alone

that's as good as if there was a priest. Is that right?

More or less.

Well, for heaven's sake

what's the priest for?

All that I know is that I shall take very good care

to have a priest.

Bless you.

I believe that's the best answer.

I wish you wouldn't start these religious arguments.

I didn't start it.

You don't convince anyone else and you don't really convince yourself.

I only want to know what these people believe.

They say it's all based on logic.

If you'd let Bridey finish, he would have made it all quite logical.

There were four of you.

Cara didn't know the first thing it was about

and may or may not have believed it.

You knew a bit

and didn't believe a word.

Cordelia knew about as much and believed it madly.

Only poor Bridey both knew and believed,

and I thought he made a pretty poor show when it came to explaining.

And people go about saying.

At least Catholics know what they believe.

Well, we had a fair cross section there tonight.

Oh Charles, don't rant.

I shall begin to think you're getting doubts.

The weeks passed

and still Lord Marchmain lived on.

In June, my divorce was made absolute.

Julia would be free in September.

The nearer our marriage got

the more wistfully I noticed Julia spoke of it.

War was now growing nearer too.

But Lord Marchmain's mind

was far from world affairs.

It was there on the spot turned in on himself.

He had no strength for any other war

than his own solitary struggle to keep alive.

Better today.

Better today.

I can see now where the geese are flying over the lilies.

where yesterday I was confused and took the lilies for swans.

Soon I shall see where the geese are headed

when they gather to fly over the looking glass.

Better tomorrow.

We live long in our family

and marry late.

Seventy three

No great age.

Aunt Julia, my father's aunt

lived to be eighty-eight.

Born and died here.

Never married.

Saw the fire on Beacon Hill for the battle of Trafalgar.

Always called it 'The New House'.

That was their name for it in the nursery

and in the fields when unlettered men

had long memories.

You can see where the old house stood

near the village church.

They called the field 'Castle Hill'.

Horlick's field

where the ground's uneven

and most of it waste

nettle, and brier

in hollows too deep for ploughing.

Those were our roots

in the waste hollows of Castle Hill.

We were knights then

barons since Agincourt.

The larger honors came the last

and they'll go the first.

The barony goes on.

When Brideshead's buried

Julia's son will be called

by the name his fathers bore

before the fat days.

The days of wool shearing

and the wide corn lands

the days of growth and building

when the marshes were drained

and the waste land brought under the plough.

When one built the house

his son added the dome

his son spread the wings

and dammed the river.

He's got a wonderful will to live

hasn't he?

Would you put it like that?

I'd say a great fear of death.

Is there a difference?

Oh dear me, yes.

He doesn't derive any strength from his fear.

It's wearing him out.

Goodbye, Mr. Ryder.

I'll call in tomorrow morning.

Better stay.

I've lived carefully

protected myself from the cold winds

eaten moderately what was in season

drunk fine claret

slept in my own sheets

I shall live long.

When I was fifty

they dismounted us and sent us up the line.

'Old men stay at the base', the orders said.

Old venerables. My commanding.... my

nearest neighbors, he said.

'You are as fit as the youngest'....

So I was.

So I am now

if only I could breathe.

When summer comes

I shall leave my bed

and sit in the open air

and breathe more freely.

When the wind comes down the valley

and a man can turn to meet it

and fill himself with air

like a beast at water.

God take it, why have

they dug this hole for me?

Must a man stifle to death in his own cellar?

Plender, Gaston, open the windows.

The windows are all wide open my Lord.

It's empty, look nurse, there's nothing comes out.

No, Lord Marchmain, it's quite full

you can tell from this dial here

it's at full pressure.

Listen, can't you hear it hiss?

Now, try and breathe slowly, Lord Marchmain

quite gently,

then you get the benefit.

There

Free as air.

That's what they say.

'Free as air'.

Now they bring me my air in an iron barrel.

I was free once.

I committed a crime

in the name of freedom.

Cordelia

What became of the chapel?

They locked it up, Papa

when Mummy died.

It was hers.

I built it for her.

There was a chaplain here until the war.

Do you remember him?

I was too young.

Then I went away.

I left her

praying in the chapel.

It was hers.

It was the place for her.

I never came back

to disturb her prayers.

They said we were fighting for freedom

I had my victory.

Was that a crime?

I think it was Papa.

Do you think that, child?

Thus Lord Marchmain lay dying

wearing himself down in the struggle to live.

Since there was no reason to expect an immediate change

Cordelia went to London to see her women's organization

about the coming emergency.

That day

when Julia and I were alone with Cara

he became suddenly worse.

Is he dying?

It's difficult to say.

When he does die it will probably be like this.

He may recover from the present attack.

The only thing is not to disturb him.

The least shock will be fatal.

I'm going to telephone Father MacKay.

Dr. Grant, we must stop this nonsense.

My business is with the body.

It's not my business to argue whether people are better alive or dead

or what happens to them after death.

I only try to keep them alive.

And you said just now that the least shock would kill him.

What could be worse for a man who fears death, as he does

than to have a priest brought to him?

A priest he turned out when he had the strength?

I think it may kill him.

Then will you forbid it?

I've no authority to forbid anything.

I can only given an opinion.

Doctor!

Excuse me.

Cara, what do you think?

I don't want him made unhappy.

That is all there is to hope for now, that he'll die without knowing it.

But I should like the priest there all the same.

Will you try and persuade Julia to keep him away

until the end?

Then he can do no harm.

I will ask her to leave Alex happy.

Yes.

I've telegraphed Bridey and Cordelia.

I hope you agree that nothing should be done until they arrive.

I wish they were here now.

You can't take the responsibility alone.

Everyone else is against you.

Doctor Grant

tell her what you told me just now.

I said the shock of seeing a priest might well kill him

without that he may survive this attack.

As his medical man I must protest against anything

being done to disturb him.

Cara?

I know you are doing for the best, Julia

but you see

Alex was not a religious man. He scoffed always.

We mustn't take advantage of him, now he's weak

to comfort our own consciences.

If Father Mackay comes to him when he is unconscious

then he can be buried in the proper way

can he not, Father?

I'll go and see how he is.

Do you remember how Lord Marchmain greeted you last time?

Do you think it possible he can have changed now?

Well thank God, by His grace, it is possible.

Perhaps you could go in while he is sleeping

say the words of absolution over him

he would never know.

I've seen so many men and women die

I never knew them sorry to have me there at the end.

Yes, but they were Catholics.

Lord Marchmain has never been one except in name

well, at any rate not for years.

He was a scoffer.

Cara said so.

There's no change.

Now, doctor, how could I be a shock to anyone?

Do you know what I'm going to do?

It is something so small, there's no show about it.

I don't wear special clothes, you know. I go just as I am.

He knows the look of me now. It's nothing alarming.

Oh, Julia. What are we to say?

Let me speak to him.

Father. I really think we

I just want him to make some little sign of assent, I want him,

anyway, not to refuse me

then I want to give him God's pardon.

Alex?

You remember the priest from Melstead?

Father MacKay

You were very naughty with him when he came to see you.

You hurt his feelings very much.

Now he's here again.

I want you to see him

just for my sake

to make friends.

Though it's not essential I wanted to anoint him.

It's nothing, a touch of the fingers, a little oil from this little box

nothing to hurt him.

I don't think he heard me.

I thought I knew how to put it to him

but he didn't answer me.

If he's unconscious

it couldn't make him unhappy to see the priest

could it, doctor?

Thank you for your advice, doctor.

I take full responsibility for whatever happens.

Father MacKay, will you please come and see my father now?

You won't disturb him now.

Do you mean?

No, no. But he is past noticing anything.

Pax huic domui et omnibu habtautibus in ea.

I know that you are sorry for all the sins of your life

aren't you?

Make a sign, if you can.

You're sorry, aren't you?

Try and remember your sins.

Tell God that you are sorry.

I am going to give you absolution.

While I'm giving it

tell God that you are sorry that you have offended him.

Ego te absolvo ad �mnibus censuria et peccatis

I recognized the words of absolution

and saw the priest make the sign of the cross.

Then I knelt too and prayed.

Oh God, if there is a God

forgive him his sins.

If there is such a thing as sin.

Per istam sanctan unctionem et suma

piissimam misericoriam indulgeat tibi

Dominus quidquid deliquisti. Amen.

I suddenly felt the longing for a sign

if only of courtesy

if only for the sake of the woman I loved

who knelt in front of me praying

I knew, for a sign

It seemed so small a thing that was asked

the bare acknowledgement of a present

a nod in the crowd.

I prayed more simply.

God, forgive him his sins and please

God, make him accept your forgiveness.

So small a thing to ask.

Ego, facultate mihi ab Apostolica Sede tributa

Indulgentiam plenarium

et remissionem omnium pessatorum tibi concedo.

Et benedico te in nominee Patris

et Fillii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Then I knew that the sign that I had asked for

was not a little thing

not a passing nod of recognition

and a phrase came back to me from my

childhood of the veil of the temple

being rent from top to bottom.

Will you see Father MacKay out?

I'm staying here for a little.

That was a beautiful thing to see.

I've seen it happen that way again and again.

The devil resists to the last moment

and then the Grace of God is too much for him.

You're not a Catholic I think, Mr. Ryder

but you'll be glad for the ladies to have

the comfort of it.

Father

We should give you something for your trouble.

Oh, don't think about it, Mr. Ryder.

It was a pleasure.

But anything you care to give

is useful in a parish like mine.

Is this alright?

Well that's more than generous, Mr. Ryder.

God bless you.

I'll call again later, but

I don't think the poor soul

has long for this world.

Goodbye.

Julia remained in the Chinese drawing room

until, at five o'clock that evening, her father died

proving both sides right in the dispute

priest and doctor.

Lord Marchmain's passed away, sir.

It was very peaceful.

If you will excuse me, sir.

Julia

I

Not now.

I'm taking Cara to her room.

Later.

Thus

I come to the broken sentences

which were the last words spoken

between Julia and me.

The last memories.

While she was still upstairs

Brideshead and Cordelia arrived from London.

When at last we met alone

it was by stealth

like young lovers.

Here on the stairs, a minute to say goodbye.

So long

to say so little.

You knew?

Since this morning.

Since before this morning, all this year.

I didn't know till today.

Oh, my dear, if you could only understand

then I could bear to part, or bear it better.

I should say my heart was breaking, if I believed in broken hearts.

I can't marry you, Charles.

I can't be with you ever again.

I know.

But how can you know?

What will you do?

Just go on.

Alone.

How can I tell what I shall do?

You know the whole of me.

You know I'm not one for a life of mourning.

I've always been bad.

Probably I shall be bad again

punished again.

But the worse I am

the more I need God.

I can't shut myself out from his mercy.

That is what it would mean, starting a life with you

without him.

One can only see one step ahead.

But I saw today there was one thing unforgivable

like things in the school room, so bad they are unpunishable

that only Mummy could deal with

the bad thing that I was on the point of doing

that I'm not quite bad enough to do

to set up a rival good to God's.

It may be because of Mummy, Nanny, Sebastian, Cordelia

Perhaps Bridey and Mrs. Muspratt

keeping my name in their prayers

or it may be a private bargain between me and God

that if I give up this one thing I want so much

however bad I am, he won't quite despair of me in the end.

Now we shall both be alone

and I shall have no way of making you understand.

I don't want to make it easier for you.

I hope your heart may break

but I do understand.

The worst place we've struck yet.

No facilities, no amenities

and Brigade Headquarters arriving next week

sitting right on top of us.

Marchmain, the town, is ten miles away and damn-all when you get there.

It will therefore be the first concern of company officers

to organize recreation for their men.

I want you to take a look at the lakes to see

if they're fit for bathing.

Very good, sir.

Brigade expects us to clean up the house for them.

I should have thought some of those half-shaven scrim-shankers

I see lounging around Headquarters might have saved us the trouble

however

Ryder

you will find a fatigue party and report to the Quartering Commandant

at the house of 10.45 hours.

He'll show you what we're taking over.

Very good, sir.

Anyone happen to know this district?

That's all, then. Get cracking.

Good morning, sir. Morning.

Fatigue party reporting for duty.

Well done.

Wonderful old place in it's way.

Pity to knock it about too much.

Come in. I'll show you over.

Thank you, sir.

It's a vast warren but we've only requisitioned the ground floor

and half a dozen bedrooms.

So everything else upstairs is private property.

Caretaker and a couple of old servants live at the top.

They won't be any trouble to you.

The chapel's open, in bounds to the troops

and a surprising number use it.

The place belongs to Lady Julia Flyte, as she calls herself now.

She used to be married to Mottram, the Minister

for whatever-it-is.

She's abroad in some women's service.

I try to keep an eye on things for her.

Surprising the old Marquis leaving everything to her

Bit rough on the boys.

Thank you.

This is the signals room

plenty of space anyway.

The last lot made absolute hay of the place.

Rather a shame.

Pity we didn't have these paintings covered up.

Modern work I think, but if you ask me, quite the prettiest in the place.

Somebody's made rather a beast of himself there.

Destructive beggars soldiers are.

See the fountain out there!

Rather a tender spot for our landlady.

The young officers used to lark about in it

on guest nights

and it was all looking a bit the worse for wear

so I boarded it up and turned the water off.

Florid great thing, isn't it?

They put the clerks in here.

Don't know why, really, gets bloody cold in the winter.

We tried these oil heaters but it didn't do much good.

Now keep an eye on the busts.

Some bright spark managed to knock the head off one of them

playing indoor hockey if you please.

Don't worry, it won't be charged to your lot.

I'd advise you to give this room to the Brigadier for his office.

The last one took it.

Next door's no good. There's a bloody great bed in it

and a load of Chinese furniture.

Always reminds me of one of the costlier knocking shops

you know

'La Maison Japanaise'.

I'm only here to clear up.

Someone from Brigade will allot the rooms.

Oh, you've got an easy job, haven't you?

Well, if you've seen everything, I'll push off. Good-day to you.

Good-day, sir.

Hooper

is there any chance I can safely leave you

in charge of the working party for half an hour?

I was just wondering if we could scrounge some tea.

For Christ's sake, you've only just started.

They're awfully browned off.

Keep them at it.

Righty oh.

Go and get the last four crates out of the truck will you.

Why, isn't it Mr. Ryder?

It is.

I was wondering when I'd meet somebody I knew.

Mrs. Hawkins is still in her old room.

I was just going to take her some tea.

I'll take it for you. Very good sir.

Nanny

Hello.

It's me

Charles Ryder.

Do sit down, Nanny. I've brought your tea.

Charles Ryder!

Lady Julia's not here

only myself here and the two girls and poor Father Membling

who was blown up, not a roof to his head

not a stick of furniture

till Julia took him in with the kind heart she's got

and his nerves something shocking.

Did you listen to Mr. Mottram last night?

Very nasty about Hitler, he was.

I said to Effie, the girl who does for me

I said If Hitler was listening, and if he understands English

which I doubt, he'll feel very small.

Have you heard from Julia?

From Cordelia, only last week.

They're together still, as they have been all the time

and Julia sent me love at the bottom of the page.

They're both very well, but they couldn't say where

but Father Membling said, reading between the lines

it was Palestine

which is where Bridey's yeomanry is

so that's all very nice for them.

Cordelia said they were all looking forward

to coming home after the war

which I am sure we all are, though whether I live to see

it is another story.

Where are the men, Hooper?

They had to go off to draw the bed straw.

I didn't know anything about it till Sergeant Block told me.

I don't know whether they'll be coming back.

Don't know? What orders did you give?

Well, I told Sergeant Block to bring them back if he thought

it was worthwhile, if there'll be time between now and dinner.

You've been hotted again, Hooper.

That straw was to be drawn till six this evening.

Oh, sorry, Ryder.

Sergeant Block

No, it was my fault for going away

fall in the same party immediately after lunch, bring them back here

and keep them here till the job's done.

Rightyoh.

Thanks.

I say

did you say you know this place before?

Yes, very well.

It belongs to friends of mine.

It doesn't make any sense

one family in a place this size.

What's the use of it?

I suppose Brigade find it useful.

That's not what it's built for, though is it?

No.

It's not what it was built for.

Maybe that's one of the pleasures of building

having a son

wondering how he'll grow up.

I don't know, I've never built anything

and I forfeited the right to watch my son grow up.

I'm homeless

childless

middle-aged and loveless, Hooper.

Now go on back to camp and keep out of the C.O.'s way

if he's back from his recce.

Okay, Ryder.

And Hooper

don't let on to anyone that we've made a nonsense of this morning.

The chapel

showed no ill-effects of its long neglect.

The paint was as fresh and as bright as ever

the lamp burned once more before the altar.

I knelt and said a prayer

an ancient newly-learned form of words.

I thought the builders

did not know the uses to which their work would descend.

They made a new house with the stones of the old castle

year by year, the great harvest of timber in the park

grew to ripeness

until, in sudden frost

came the age of Hooper.

The place was desolate

and the work all brought to nothing.

Quomodo sedet sola civitas.

Vanity of vanities

all is vanity.

And yet, I thought

That is not the last word

it is not even an apt word

it is a dead word from ten years back.

Something quite remote

from anything the builders intended

had come out of their work and out of the fierce little

human tragedy in which I played.

Something none of us thought about at the time

a small red flame, a beaten copper lamp

of deplorable design re-lit

before the beaten copper doors of a tabernacle.

This flame

which the old knights saw from their tombs

which they saw put out

the flame burns again for other soldiers

far from home, farther in heart

than Acre or Jerusalem.

It could not have been lit but for the builders and the tragedians

and there I found it that morning

burning anew among the old stones.

Morning Ryder.

You're looking remarkably cheerful today.