Original subtitles

Wow...

What kind of instrument do I have Everyday?

Just put it up in you.

Alright, let's do it.

Supergirl, welcome back.

Pleasure to be here.

He's great, the Archbishop of Lance and Sisseria.

You're great.

Have you been introduced to Madame de Fevak?

I had the honour of the Redford Ball and the Altam.

Madame de Fevak has enlisted me into the Jesuit cause.

We ought to engage in raising funds for the Orphans, indeed.

A woman of almost unassailable appeal.

If in any way I might.

Most kind.

That are 28.

My dear Madame de Fevak.

She doesn't even acknowledge receipt.

Never see a sieges working until a moment of surrender.

England is dominated by two great vices.

And they are, sir.

Can't, in that they pass a gloss of hypocrisy over everything.

And bashfulness, which advice does a certain charm

until one realises it's a cunning play of pride?

And are the women equally marred, sir?

I fear they leave something to be desired too.

Do they want in physical beauty?

No.

More in vitality.

However, this should not be seen as their fault.

Their husbands are largely to blame.

The Englishman values modesty as the paramount quality in his wife.

In fact, such a virtue is his very pride.

But such company, devoid of wit and spirituality,

can become a little tedious.

Which is why the Englishman, without the solace of true faith,

finds it essential to get gloomily drunk each night.

50.

50.

More mystical English mumbo jumbo.

What kind of woman could be worded by this?

Can't understand a word of it.

Don't understand.

Just copy.

She will never, never reply.

Happy birthday.

LAMOR

This letter is full of worse cant than mine.

Invited to the ballet and possible dinner with her uncle the Bishop.

The great fixer of appointments.

If nothing else comes of this, I'll probably end up a Bishop myself.

Letter 71.

Fine ballet.

Perhaps not quite as moving as the Abbey Provost novel.

If one must succumb to fiction, I suspect men on this goamers be placed at the head of the list.

The poem is considered a book for servants, which shows his luck at the soundment.

Beautiful. So beautiful. Don't love.

Your letters, sir.

One element confuses me.

Why, in today's epistle, are there so many references to London and Richmond?

Distraction madame.

Lost in the contemplation of the sublime.

I must have lost all sense of time and place.

DGot glamour Khambal,

Dick

But it's a such a moving tale.

my Dark

Miss Pie

Coleman

burst

You have killed your wife, sir.

The vanquish to come off them confused compassion with weakness, Julia.

I shield you to sacrifice to which this fatal passion led me.

You have no right, Marmazelle.

Remember, I too still have my pride.

Don't look at her.

Do you love her?

That's hardly her.

Whatever other sentiment I might feel towards her, I cannot deny that of gratitude.

She has treated me with courtesy and offered me comfort when others have scorned.

What proof do you want of my love?

Microwave raid.

It is not proof that I want, but guarantees.

Name them.

Ruin me.

Just Christ me.

Let us do it now.

Let us flee to London anywhere.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

I must have time to consider.

She has the character for the entire family.

How about your relationship with the son?

One of the stains.

Here's how you want.

They have turned you into a fop, haven't they?

A man is more than the clothes he wears, is he?

The church is offered much less.

My favourite student.

How many mentors do you have?

Each world seems to require another.

Do not fear for me, Patro, to me.

How about the path of persuasion with the Elishro Valley?

It has achieved its objective.

Deligence brings its just reward.

And is the lady here?

Discretion, my good friend.

So they're both here, huh?

I'm going to find them.

Follow the eyes.

The eyes lead you to the heart.

Not mine, sir.

I understand the marquee has not been too happy a place.

No, the world has not been going quite as he planned.

But it really does.

That's what makes it so engaging.

Not for my master.

For them.

I'm sorry, sir.

I'm sorry, I do not dance.

I'm sorry, dear sir.

I'm sorry, please.

You're not supposed to know me.

I'm aware of that.

This is my birthday.

You must dance with me.

Later.

Now, what do I mean?

Oh, what do you fetch, my shawl, sir?

It suddenly is a little chill.

I was... I wanted to...

I recollect.

I left it in the music room.

What do you mean?

And what of your present master?

Well, I had thought to give you that in private.

I promise you I will carry it with me at all times.

But you don't know what it is yet.

It might not be portable.

But it is, Julian.

At least for the time being.

Is it not beautiful?

Does it not suit me?

Can you see how much I love you?

Soon the whole world will.

Is this not the guarantee?

I'm your wife.

Forever.

Excuse me.

We...

I cannot hide, Julian.

Nor should we.

No.

Father must be told first.

He is my friend as well as my father, and he is acted as a man of honor towards you.

It would be shameful to deceive him for a moment longer.

He will turn me out of the house.

He'll be quite within his rights.

We must respect that.

Let us take a little time to reflect.

There can be no delay on this, my love.

It is my duty towards him.

You have a duty to your husband?

This is a matter for my own conscience, Julian.

He has already read my letter.

His lordship would like to see you, sir.

Immediately.

What was it there?

It wasn't there.

I didn't try another room.

He is raging. Beware.

You have betrayed me, sir.

My only daughter.

Yes, you are a monster.

A monster I took to my own breath, to my fed, to the head of my very own...

You have been very generous to me, sir, but equally I have served you well.

Indeed you have, sir.

In all of Paris, only two people offered me affection.

You, sir, when you had the time to grace me, and the other, that obliging angel...

Obliging!

The moment you became a blige boy, you should have fed this place!

I tried, sir.

When I begged to go to the long dock...

What are you, sir?

What men are of men, are you?

My daughter, my madam, sorry, I'm not even a contest!

My daughter, not even a...

Do you son accept the religious impossible?

Was it your plan?

All along?

No, never.

I trusted you, sir.

You...

Have deliberately and wantly betrayed me.

You consider I have betrayed your trust, then kill me if you so desire.

Get out of my house!

Fuck!

Fuck!

Father!

I've put your case to the Marcus with all the eloquence I possess.

There are other priests with more persuasive powers.

But they lack your sincerity.

Did you hope that might move him?

What's up, Matilda?

She might as well be a prisoner in the Bastille.

I'm not a prisoner.

I'm not a prisoner.

He is the father of our child.

What am I to do, Lord?

What would you do, sir?

Tear down the prison.

Release the fair maiden from her dark in chon.

She carries my child.

There must be something I can do.

There is nothing.

When her father...

Stow back my impress and suck.

I try to raise all Europe into arms.

Implement and hopeless fury.

Did he break her spirit?

Under mine.

Master, my father has arranged a commission for you in the 15th Regiment of Azars,

in the name of Mysia Sorrell de la Venet.

You ought to report to their courtes immediately.

Immediately?

And then, after three months of separation,

if we still desire to wed, he will not prevent it.

Three months?

Patience, my love.

In three months, I'll marry you in your red uniform.

This is the sword of my noble ancestor,

when he fasts the l'm all.

Yeah, it turns out he's soAny enough.

Police!

Oh, no!

No!

No!

No!

Hey!

Oh!

Come on!

Come on!

Hey!

Hey!

Well done.

Please, sir.

Oh!

Oh!

Should you love me on me?

You will join us for dinner.

We'll be my privilege, sir. No, sir.

We'll be ours.

Come on!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

We're not.

does this mean we're granted a remission for the last few weeks?

Well, it's lost.

You've never let us marry now.

What?

Has received a letter.

What letter?

Show me.

I have lent it by heart, Julian.

What I owe to the sacred cause of religion

impels me, my lord, to the painful step I take in addressing you.

The grief I bear must be overweight by a sense of duty

to prevent even a greater scandal.

I warn Sir, who has already suffered at the hands of Monsieur

Sorrell.

His behavior has been extremely reprehensible,

and more than I can say.

Poor, but avaricious, which is his strategy

to employ the most consummate hypocrisy

and the seduction of weak and lonely women

to build a position for himself.

He lives in this wake of a misery, and undying regret.

There was Monsieur.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Monsieur, I don't do it now.

Wasn't itSTEP Vonchei, where you go on?

famous 24 hours ago and you let me hear you do it.

You got it, Ed.

You were wasting Al voluntary Whatever you did,

you made down some of my controls for us you were.

What did you do?

A human mind, sir.

I find I can only recall the good things.

Now, my wife's quite the reverse.

Still, you haven't missed much.

All you said for the last three days is I killed her,

killed me.

You're quite boring for them that had to question you.

Well, that's the truth.

There's nothing else to say.

Truth, sir.

I don't trick you for any man to know

when he's gone hold of that slippery customer.

What do you mean?

You can't make money could give my wife happy memories.

That's the one can but try.

Word is, she's coming on a treat.

Who?

Adam Dora now.

You'll put it when clean through her shoulder.

Hit a pillar, and it's ricochet, narrowly missed out.

Illustrious abbey de frélère.

More's the pity.

She's still alive.

What is life, sir?

He didn't want to wear this.

Get out.

Now, now I believe in God.

It doesn't change the crime or the punishment.

I'll give you a second.

I'll give you a second.

Husband.

I cannot be saved.

I'm guilty of murder.

But she is not dead.

The crime is the same, and so is the punishment.

Do you want to die?

We will not let it happen.

She just comes a week and you're a soul.

Are you cold?

No.

I would hate my intervention to cause distress

to your father, and sir.

I fear it may have that effect, Miss Yolabe de Frélères.

But such matters must be outweighed by the demands of justice.

Justice?

Yes.

And Miss Yosarell de la Vernay is not without his own friends.

It was, in fact, the Archbishop of Paris himself.

Not I may say a frequent guest at my father's table,

who suggested I sought out your support.

He holds you, preeminent in the region.

That is most gracious of him.

I understand he intends to be more than merely gracious.

Your Miss Yosarell de la Vernay is clearly

a most gifted young man to inspire so much diversion.

What is his defense?

Is he in love with this woman?

Was this a crime of passion?

My husband intends to offer no defense.

Does therefore necessary for others to come to his aid?

Will you, sir?

Look, do you see?

The jury sits there.

There is no doubt, Julian.

Miss Yolabe's pre-layered didn't really

need tempting the possibility for coming a bishop.

He would have done it just for the pleasure of fighting my father.

How is this achieved?

He controls the choice of the jury.

The foreman is a man he's just made into a local mayor.

His name?

The Baron of Valano.

You still want to speak in your defense?

There is no need.

The with you, sir.

Nothing stirs the unheart more than the folly of love.

Let him to Renau's cousin and I'd come to close.

She's the only one who has to.

No.

Sir, the issue could not be more straightforward.

A soldier.

He enters the house of God.

His spurs, jingling, his hands resting on two primed pistols.

He seeks out a woman, his old benefactorous,

a mother of three children, who is kneeling in prayer,

waiting for the holy mystery of communion.

He aims directly at her and fires twice.

That he failed to achieve his murderous intent.

Modifies neither charge nor sentence for the implication in law

is the same.

Those that strive by cold premeditation to take a life

must themselves sacrifice their own.

No friend, Baron of Valano does not seem convinced.

No fine words.

I understand.

No, no, no, needed.

Gentlemen of the jury, it is by no means true

that intent to murder automatically

dictates the death penalty.

If at worth the case, your presence here

would be merely shown.

No.

You are here to transform the cold mechanics of law

into justice.

And for that, we require a different kind of judgment.

A judgment based on the heart as well as the brain,

tempered by insight, by compassion, and above all,

by your common humanity.

I intend to prove that love caused this atrocity.

That love itself can visit as a madness, a sickness that

can steal away the will of any of us who

wait to find ourselves caught within its fever and its fury.

Miss you, Sarell.

Miss you, Sarell.

We have heard the submission of both attorneys

for the prosecution and the defense.

You have anything you wish to say to the jury.

Miss just Sarell, do you have anything you wish to say?

Yes.

I ask for no mercy.

Suffer no illusion.

I attempted to take the life of one of the most noble of women.

My crime is terrible, made doubly so,

because it was premeditated.

I am guilty.

I therefore deserve death.

It is just.

However, the judgment you will make upon me

will not arise from a spirit of justice, of our common humanity.

But it will be born from the dead heart of corruption and oppression.

There's a sentence on a peasant who, in the eyes of you,

our masters committed only one crime,

that of attempting to rise against the loneliness of his station.

And it has one purpose only to discourage the others,

to discourage hope and aspiration, or with those of your class

called audacity and anarchy.

Have you reached a verdict?

Baron Lavalno?

We have, Miss Yula President.

We find Julian Sorel.

Guilty.

I'm sorry.

What's happened?

It's quite simple.

Miss Yula Valeno has changed allegiance again.

He clearly believes the Marquis de Le Moll

has more pardon than avid of Freleur.

He is, of course, quite wrong.

Mr. Peel, immediately.

No.

Enough of the charades.

Forgive me.

You're shoulder.

Forgive me Julian.

The priests wrote the letter that I copied it in my hand,

in the name of God, they said.

I believe sincerely in God.

I believe in half of the crime I'm committing a dreadful.

Yeah, as soon as I see you, even through the smoke of pistols,

I feel for you what I ought to feel only for God.

Ask me to stab the jailer.

It's done before I've had time to think.

Ask.

Then let me die with you.

No.

Sweater me, you will not take your own life.

I could not bear it.

It's been my heart.

I would have left and died without knowing

that I had not entered my prison.

We love her.

Forgive me.

No, don't say anything.

You were born to live amongst the heroines of forgotten ages.

Take their courage, their heart.

A year after my death, married the Contequasener.

The Quasener is dead.

If what did you ever my honor?

Love me.

I love you.

I wish it could be otherwise.

Why am I so cold?

I can't have face the final night with courage.

Priest of confessions.

I have no need.

Are you in?

Father.

That's my boy.

Do you wish to die with my son?

Then let me save you.

The Church has great powers.

A reprieve even now is not impossible.

All it needs is a sign from you.

From me?

Your trial, your speech, your whole matter,

and a remarkable effect on people, especially young.

I view you and possess their very dreams.

What does this do with me?

Our Jesuit masters consider your free thinking

a dangerous influence.

Not if word were to spread of your heartfelt return to the faith.

I accept the cost of my sincerity.

I accept your love, Father.

But you should not have consented to this.

It was cruel.

Please leave me now.

There is another with whom I wish to confide.

Where is the truth to be found?

In religion.

In the God of the Bible, that petty despot

for revenge for mayor of a small town,

in the noise of his modern servants.

Where is it?

In the hypocrisy of the Salon,

the corruptions of justice,

is there such a thing as a natural law

or only the poor vested interest of necessity?

I'm 22 and about to die.

All I desire is to be in the arms of my love.

Unlike you, I have done nothing with my life,

but played tattoo for the hypocrite.

A shallow part to play from one until night.

I would have followed you to the end of the world.

Would that have been any greater meaning?

Two arms.