All language subtitles for The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne S01E17 Rocket to the Moon

Enough, my son. The penance is over.

Even for the scene you have not yet committed.

Let's impossible bless your enterprise.

We had two reasons to go to Russia. First to launch a back on a mission for the British

Congress, to enable Philious to conduct the latest in a series of wagers with his old friend,

Count Kugarn.

You didn't let your guard down. How could I with you present me to let your guard down?

You have to risk everything. Otherwise the maneuver doesn't work. It's impossible. It's against human nature.

That's why it's so effective.

It is human nature to cling to things, Verne. But when you let go, you become free.

Oh, how true, Phil. And we all have so much to let go of, don't we?

And some of us end up parachuting into Russia as a result. Are you ready yet, Rebecca?

Ah, five minutes to the location of the first mirror.

Presuming that our man, Emiga, got the right information.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

So why is the British Secret Service worried about a bunch of parabolic mirrors going to Russia?

Whoa! Those can have a surprising number of military uses, Jewels. Signaling troop maneuvers, that sort of thing.

And chasing the stupidest things around the world is the Secret Service. Look so dashing.

Oh, of course. What else are we here for?

Ah! What the devil is that? I did.

It's past part two's of having possible pressure, Master.

Do you like it? It is burning my leg.

Yes. And I am prepared for that.

There's been riots and arrests since its arms and is going to free the service.

Yes. I bet your chum kugare wasn't too pleased with that idea.

It's got hundreds of serfs, isn't it?

600. He staked them in a wager once. I lost, fortunately.

No idea what I'd have done with 600 serfs.

Isn't it about a time you abandoned this absurd contest?

Nine years is quite long enough.

It's only at three yearly intervals.

We're not due to meet again for another five months, but Nikolai simply couldn't wait.

He's a man of passion as enthusiasm, sir.

What drives him to it? What drives you to it?

The need to let go.

Talking of which?

Wish me luck.

Seems an awful lot of trouble over a few mirrors.

Oh, the British Secret Service never hesitates to put Rebecca to an awful lot of trouble.

Strange thing is, she loves it.

The estate's coming up past Bautou. The bag's back.

Yes, Master. I bring everything.

Welcome to Rosh.

Here. Brilliant.

Oh, it's wonderful to be here, Nikolai.

Remember the last thing, when we raced to steamboats down the river towns, blindfolds.

And I went to ground on Eel Pie Island, yes, I remember as well.

Ah, what times we had done there will be more.

Yes, and this, Nikolai, is the perfect place for some splendid competitions.

Don't tell me that's little Natasha.

Oh, she's my award for my brother, Jackie.

Oh, my condolences.

Natasha.

Lovely to see you again.

Oh, how kind. Give me a moment.

Ah, Natasha. May I present my friend, Monsieur Jules Verne Paris.

Verne, as you may have guessed, from his lack of manners, is an artist.

Paris, that must be such a wonderful place to leave.

Well, if you have money, but when you're starving, and a garret, it's...

A romantic?

A romantic and uncomfortable.

But this, this seems to me...

A romantic and comfortable.

And stifling.

Like a prison.

May I not have a story here?

No, no, no.

No, no, no, no.

Wasn't there a Rubens there last time?

Oh, I got tired of them. I saw both my paintings.

More of your grand schemes to improve your state.

I remember when you got so fired up about bogs I've made.

You only think that concerns me at the moment, my dear friend, is beating you in every contest that we undertake.

Natasha, show Mr. Verne to his room. Mr. Fogg and I will be in the library.

St. Basil de Blaine, our local saint.

His eyes were sightless, but he thought it rude.

I love the colors of these old icons.

It must be wonderful to be able to paint.

Yes. Yes, I wish I could.

But aren't you a painter?

No, no, no, no. A writer.

A writer?

Yeah, well, not an established writer. A couple of plays, lots of notes, and I haven't figured out what to do with them yet.

Would you do something very personal for me?

Yes, yes, anything.

Be it here.

Typical young bohemian, this friend of yours.

Mind in the clouds, not living in the real world.

That's all. Yes, artist.

Ah, cheers. But at least he's a painter, which is acceptable.

From one awful moment, I thought he might be a writer.

What's wrong with writers?

It's writers and intellectuals who have corrupted this art,

turned him from traditional values to liberal heresies.

I've come to the conclusion that writers are the worms in the ample of the society.

Wouldn't have many books without them, though, would we?

Huh?

Big it!

Stop!

Ah, this will be interesting.

It's the newest sport in the world.

I want to know if I should sacrifice my life to literature.

You wrote this.

In secret.

It has taken me two years.

Two years of fear.

Fear.

If my uncle finds out I'm writing a novel, he will send me to the convent of Santa's d'Acher,

which would be a living dead.

Rego! Call the good card!

Then I will go and let him see you with that.

You don't know what he's capable of.

Jane is called eight count.

We'll handle our colleagues, have been in the form of the correct procedures.

I have instructed each of them personally.

The system has been tested, and it works.

Good. So now even the speed of light is on our side.

That is good. That is very good.

You should be working in a great restaurant in Paris.

You think the master's going to let his serues go gallivanting off to parts unknown?

It's the past part. I don't think so.

None of us will ever leave this estate till the good Lord takes us up to heaven.

Unless we are bad, and the count sends us to Siberia.

He wouldn't do that.

Hasn't done that to anybody for nearly a year.

Such skill, such dedication, such selfless devotion to the master's wish.

Carves by my serfs within the last hour.

Would this be possible in the best?

No.

One would just send one's valet to the shops.

Yes, for a soulless, machined made object.

These men love what they do, isn't that right?

Gregor, it could not be happier, master.

You know, Nikolay?

I can never come to terms with the fact that you literally own him.

Well, now I merely own the land, and these fellows belong to the land. It's simple, like this.

And what will happen when the saa abolishes the whole system?

The saa understands that the bond between the noble and his serf is the soul of Russia.

I guarantee he will never destroy it.

You can guarantee what happens in St. Petersburg, Nikolay.

Use these satisfactorlies, sir.

We shall see.

Want me?

Shall we begin? Let's see... five thousand pounds.

Why not?

Natasha!

Natasha!

Natasha!

St. Basil the Blind.

St. Basil your eyes open, they should be closed.

This space is secret, Montyaufern. You should not have come here.

Who are you? What's that weapon for?

It is not a weapon, sir. Count Bugare in another nobleman who think like him

believe Russia should be the first nation to send a projectile into space. Space.

This is the kind of scientific report that I have dreamed of for years.

What are you doing here?

I was looking for you, but instead I find this magnificent creation.

The world should know that Russia can produce something like this.

I know, too. My uncle insists no one must know about it until it is ready.

This device has cost many millions of rubles, and we are prepared to take extreme measures to protect it.

No.

Only the fact that you and Mr. Fogg are the guests of the count protects you in a situation in which you find yourself.

I understand, but I've been working on something like this for so long.

Please, just... let me help you.

Please. There is so much to do to get the moon gun ready.

Montyaufern has so much to offer.

I will discuss the matter with the count.

But in any event, you must swear not to say a word of this to anyone outside this estate.

Do you agree?

I agree, yes.

I agree.

Stop!

Ah! The tools of the execution.

The elevations are on.

No, the gun needs to be at 60 degrees to achieve the right arc.

What explosives are you using?

400,000 pounds of forminated gun cut.

And the projectiles. How much do they weigh?

19,000 pounds.

Generating a thrust of 1,800 pounds per square inch resulting in...

escape velocity.

I have done flight plans, sketches, calculations for something like the Siberson's I was avoid.

Oh, uh... what about the training program?

Training program?

Yes, the moon voids are... you'll need to be able to withstand the force of gravity,

use a breathing apparatus, pilot the craft, and then, of course, take photographs.

Man, must go into space, Prince.

It's his destiny.

So what's this France you keep talking about then, Pass Part II?

Well, France is a country, my dear Elena, where Frenchmen live, and French women also, of course.

Does that star rule there as well then?

No, that star, Sergei, doesn't rule everywhere.

There are oldlings of countries in the world beside Russia.

Now, don't you be taking us for fools, Pass Part II?

There might be one or two other countries, but not poodlings.

And I reckon the stars in charge of them all, one way or another.

He's a great man, the star. They say he's going to set us free.

Why, it's Sergei. You know how the count feels about that.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, I wonder if any of you ever thought about space travel?

That's going to be very hard to beat, Count.

It must be my Viking ancestors.

Congratulations, Philius.

You now own one-third of the Cogaren estates, including over 200 men, women, and children,

over whom you have power of life are best.

Ah, well then, perhaps it's time to stop. I urge you, Count.

Let us cease the wager here now, with honor intact on both sides.

You will deny me the chance to bend back by heritage.

Are these the words of an English gentleman?

So, for our next contest, we will get everything that I have left in the world.

Against your vanings and everything that you brought with you.

Everything. The clothes on my back.

Your flying ship, your man's room.

That's my tooth, it's not a surf.

Of course not. But he is a contractor.

And if I go in, I'll merely obtain the services on the end of the contract.

You don't wish to renege. Do you?

That is not, Nikolai. A question to ask of a man of honor.

Oh good, there's plenty of space for all the protective padding the moonboy is going to need.

See?

Breathing apparatus, a porthole that gaze back from the seating earth.

It's going to be wonderful.

What is it, Natasha?

Oh, uh...

Forgive me, I haven't told you yet, have I?

Tell me about you.

That your novel may be grand, my teeth.

I see.

With envy?

Envy?

Yes. Yes, you see, there were real people in it. People with souls.

You already think so?

Oh, man. The same word prints Yusupov conference and dying hermit.

That movement, it's yours.

And in the love between Kedrina and the French officer, especially in the snowdrill.

Before the wolves come.

I cried the whole time that I wrote that.

And when Lieutenant says,

my heart beats in your hands.

Like the wings of a butterfly catarina.

And Kedrina replied,

when you go into battle you bear, you carry my soul in your cell bank.

And when I look into your eyes, I see that my future lies.

Got you.

Next stop, Prince Sergey Gregoriov.

Well, I wonder if you two prints have a mirror-oriented north-noth east.

Distance of the mall!

218,657.

Miles at his paraget.

Speed required to break through the earth's gravity.

1,200 yards per second.

You know what? I think he's starting to get it.

Say it again. You are no longer a sash.

You ought to be coming to world of space.

No, no!

No, no!

Cheers, told you bear.

Yeah, you see it fit perfectly.

Looks like a real spaceship, doesn't it?

You are convinced science will make the world a better place.

Aren't you, Jules?

Of course. Aren't you?

There is so much even in the hearts of men.

And so much good.

Do you think so?

I know so.

Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot the 200 is there.

Some light.

Come on.

There we go. There we go. There we go.

There we go.

The cards are favoring you tonight, Julius.

It's amusing, isn't it?

How we ascribe human motives to pieces of stiffened paper.

Every inanimate object is part of the great soul of the world.

You are too much of a materialist, please.

You Russians and your mystic visions.

We English know that a card is a card and a horse is a horse

and that's all there is to it.

No visions for us, Nikolai.

I will...

you

I decided to have dinner.

Never.

You have, um, triumphed.

It was luck, my friend.

No, no, no, no, no, brilliant playing.

Congratulations, Nick Lyon.

I'm being restored to your estate.

My condolences and your losses.

I will, of course, arrange your passage, picked a wiggle.

I'm not going to do anything.

Mm.

So is it goodbye, my dad?

Luck, it's not with me, Pasport, too.

It's sometimes the way.

You have played a game.

Some games you win, some who are losing.

And some.

Perhaps you shall never play at all.

What's going on?

I'm saying goodbye to Pasport, too, Vern.

I regret to say.

I agreed to put up the remainder of his contract,

and the Aurora as part of the wager.

I have lost the wager.

You gambled away, Pasport, too.

Mr. Fogg consulting me. I am insisting.

It is now a matter of honor.

Are you out of your mind?

It was a wager, Vern.

It was insanity.

How can you go around risking everything

in a single turn of a piece of card?

That is the point.

Don't you want to stand?

That is the whole point.

Isn't life enough of a gamble, Fogg?

Why do you need the city, you see?

I can only suppose, Vern, that it must be the result

of a deep flaw in my character.

Everything went as I planned it.

So, we have the dirigible?

Yes, we have the dirigible, and I have lost my soul.

A mirror message came from St. Petersburg just before sunset.

So, the sorry has been given his ultimatum.

You will make his reply of noon tomorrow.

For 12 hours count, the fate of Russia hangs in the balance.

Go up to the gun.

Make sure the second prejectile is packed with explosive.

I will tell Natasha to keep the Frenchman away from the gun cave

until it's all over.

Natasha?

Natasha?

Natasha, you have betrayed me.

What is this?

What is this?

An explosive.

Why is the project being filled with explosive, Natasha?

That makes us into a weapon, not a spaceship.

It never involves a spaceship, Jules.

Do you remember the elevation of the gun?

Yes, it was far too low.

A sent Petersburg.

Why?

Because that's where the char is, Mocha van.

Put your hands in the air very slowly, please.

I'm sorry, Jules. This was what I was trying to prevent.

What a fool you must have thought of me.

You know.

All that talk about the evil in the hearts of men, it was the evil in your heart.

I was trying to save your life.

Yes, it will ever cost me.

And, Oraja, you have corrupted my niece, Sir.

Jules, forgive me.

Let...

He's forgiving my serfs.

Ideas about their stish.

That's what this is about, isn't it?

You planned a wipe out the czar to stop him from freeing the serfs.

No harm needs to come to the czar.

The series of parabolic mirrors gets us almost instant communication with St. Petersburg.

If we receive a positive reply by noon tomorrow, we'll know the czar as wisely.

Torn up the proclamation.

Only a refusal to do so.

But means we have to fire the gun.

Great, and we don't see refusal.

Why?

Because I plan to attach you to the mouth of the gun.

It will be a very appropriate death, don't you think, for someone?

So, it's fused about technology.

No, please.

No, no, no, no.

Shh. It remains.

I sent another message tonight to the convent in St. Eustacia.

The nuns will be coming to collect you at noon tomorrow.

Really, Nikolay, there's no need for this.

No, no, I insist, my dear, Phoeia.

The carriage will take you to Smolenskum.

From there you will be able to take the train back to England.

I am certain that as soon as you are home, you will be able to restore your fortunes.

And there's still no sign of van.

After the altercation he had with you last night, he insisted on leaving alone.

You will probably find him already at the station in Smolensk.

Give my regards to Natasha, won't you?

Yes, yes. Of course. And Pasbot too.

No, you'll treat him well.

I know you will.

Like one of my own.

Goodbye.

My dear, Phoeia, you will always have my deepest...

...admarsh.

Goodbye, Nick.

This isn't where the damn thing stopped. We are going home.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord.

Good, good. Survivors will look up from the ruins of St. Petersburg and all the old Russia.

Has been saved. Good. Good.

How long will it take for you to reach the capital, Your Honor?

In this machine, just a few hours.

Time is of the essence, if you get there before the army is able to regroup.

Providence has smiled on you, Sire.

Providence has nothing to do with it.

Here's he.

I have been cheated.

Leastman, turn around now.

Activate the oiling mechanism.

You really know how to enjoy yourself, don't you, Jules?

Well, Grog, they're going to blow St. Petersburg off the map.

Yes, and you with it by the look of things?

Can you wriggle free?

And break my neck?

Remember what Philius told you?

You know what, Beck, I don't have such high regard for Mr. Philius' fog anymore.

Well, possibly not.

But he was right about one thing.

The need to let go.

The need to let go!

Turn me out!

Stop it, please!

Turn me out!

That goody thing is my child.

Jesus is waiting for you.

No!

I can't go to the convent now.

My uncle's about to blast a young Frenchman out of the mouth of a giant gun.

I'm not going to do that.

I'm going to do that.

Oh, he said he doesn't know much better for anybody.

He's gone completely bad.

Oh, shoot.

Oh, shoot.

Faster!

He got the same choice!

Oh!

Senior, Gessarissi from Moscow, you honor.

Desire has rejected your alternator.

So, Gregor,

the time has run out of the Romanovs.

Go down.

Load the second project.

As you wish.

Selge!

New water, Sergei.

We're going to fire this one first.

One without explosive.

Selge, begin the countdown.

Actually, no.

Considering the fact that you have my friend suspended in the mouth of a gun,

you...

What are you doing here?

I'm here, Kugare.

To tell you to your face.

That you cheat at cards.

That you cheated me, your friend.

I... I... I did it for Russia.

Well, that's not good enough, Count.

I have already sacrificed my honor, Falk.

If you imagine, I will hesitate to kill an unarmed man.

You want a mistake?

If he is unarmed.

Thank you, Beck.

Splendid time.

Er...

Ha! The mirrors.

The mirrors, isn't it?

Nikolai.

It's all done with the mirrors, isn't it?

I do think this is something that Phileus and his former friend have got to solder between themselves.

Stop the fire!

Prince Hypak!

Take the kill!

Look at that!

It's for trying to kill Jules Verne.

And this...

is for this treating my man servant.

And this is for cheating.

Phileus, Falk.

Don't you know, Falk of Hope?

Why are they gone?

What is this?

No!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

How absolutely fantastic.

What have you been up to, then, Phileus?

A little croquet, Rebecca.

A few games of cards.

Nothing really worth discussing.

This, I believe, is yours.

Thank you.

And Verne.

In one piece. Good.

I'm very pleased indeed.

Me too.

We parked it on bad terms.

I said some harsh words.

You have strong views.

Yes.

I guess I guess I'd do.

Well, that's that sorted out, then.

Oh, you know that advice you gave me about letting go?

Really useful.

Jules, you're alive!

Master!

Miss Rebecca.

You know what this means, do you?

Yes.

The Zar is alive, and the Serfs are free.

And so are you.

What has become of my uncle?

When letosh I suppose he's free too?

In a way.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.