All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S05E02.The.Crystal.Trench.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

*

*

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

I thought I would
cut this rope,

since it seems to be
obstructing my path.

I can't seem to
find my partner.

He was here a moment ago,

then let out a cry
and disappeared.

(thudding)

My, my.

I seem to have
made a faux pas.

My friend was on the
other end of that rope.

Rotten luck.

He was also my
business partner.

But the show must go on.

Tonight, we are presenting
a chilly little tale entitled,

"The Crystal Trench."

It follows at
a respectful distance.

I had come from
London that Wednesday

on my first
visit to the Alps.

Strange, after
so many years,

I should remember
it was a Wednesday.

A Wednesday in
September, 1907.

I came up the
valley by train.

Dark canopies of clouds
obscured the Schwarzhorn,

but I could
make out the broad,

icy spread of
the nearby glacier.

It had a sort of majesty.

At least, I thought so then.

With its solid depths
of ice and its silent,

relentless flow as it crept
along its inevitable course.

Now, 40 years later,

I know the glacier
for something else.

Something I had
better never have known.

I was to meet my
guides, the Blauers,

at the Bowed House Hotel.

I had climbed easier peaks
in Austria with the Blauers,

preparing myself
for the Schwarzhorn.

Oh, how are you?

Welcome, welcome, welcome.

Please, sign there,
everything's arranged.

How's your mother?

Fine, fine.

I had scarcely
entered the lobby

when I discovered both
Frederic and Hans Blauer

engaged, as usual, in an
argument with another man.

*

Hans!

Frederic!

You are just in time
to settle an argument.

It seems to me
you were arguing

when I left you
last year in Torino.

Never with each other,
Mr. Cavendish.

Only with those who
insult our intelligence.

I don't care!

I saw what I saw!

Impossible!

They were right
at the top.

Maybe you can
still see them.

What should I look for?

Two men on top
of the Schwarzhorn.

Now?

At 4:00 in the afternoon?

I was looking through
this, you understand?

And suddenly the clouds
seemed to draw apart,

and there it was,
the Schwarzhorn.

Then two men
climbed into my view.

They were near the
very top of the peak.

Which direction
did they come from?

The south.

You see?

That's not possible.

If they came by the south,

they would have had to have
come by the Lerner Ascent.

At least I know which is
north and which is south!

Even a child knows that!

One of the climbers,
the one in front,

was moving very slowly.

He seemed weak.

The second man was stronger,

I saw him lift the
rope between them.

It was slack.

He shook the snow off it.

The rope was slack?

And then?

Then the clouds
closed in again,

and I could not
see them anymore.

If what you say is true,
it could be very serious.

That's what we have been
telling him, Mr. Cavendish.

He can't just go around
inventing stories like that.

I saw it, I tell you!

It's just possible, of
course, just, you understand.

On a fine day, a party
coming by that route

might find themselves
on top of the Schwarzhorn

at 4:00 in the afternoon.

But on a day like this,

no man in his senses

would be on any ridge
of that mountain,

I can only hope
you're mistaken.

Come and help me unpack.

I'll show you some boots
I bought in London.

*

Mr. Cavendish?

I have bad news.

There has been an accident.

On the Schwarzhorn?

How could you know?

Ranks has just sent
word from the Vern hut.

Ranks, what has he
got to do with it?

He was with them,
it is terrible.

They were so young, boys.

Countrymen of yours,

that's why I
have come to you.

Now, if you'll tell
me what's happened?

They arrived here last week.

They were not
experienced climbers,

but they had no
respect for our guides

or for our mountains.

They would not listen
to what anybody said.

If only Herr Ranks had
not come from Austria.

Do you know him?

No, but the Blauers
told me about him.

They say he'll
climb with anyone.

As soon as he met
these two young men,

he suggested the
Lerner Ascent to them.

(speaking German)

They went up to the Vern
hut, slept the night there,

and started up
the Schwarzhorn

with provisions
for three days.

That was four days ago!

And Ranks has
come back alone?

No.

One of the boys is with him.

George Liston.

They're moving him down to
the clinic at Brig tonight,

hoping to save
his hands and feet,

which are badly frostbitten.

No, it is the other
boy, Michael Ballister.

He died when he
almost reached the top.

Ranks says that
he and Liston

were too exhausted
to bring him down,

so they left him up there.

We'll have to
go and fetch him

as soon as the
weather clears.

Is that what you
wanted to ask me about?

No, there is something else.

His wife, Ballister's
wife, is here in the hotel.

Someone must tell her.

You expect me to?

Who else is there?

But why me?

Like you, she's English.

And it is better
if she hears it

from one of her
own countrymen.

They've only been
married six months.

All day long she has
been trying to hide

that she was
anxious about him.

Where is she now?

In the dining room.

We'd better tell her now.

*

*

Mrs. Ballister,

I do not believe you
have met Mr. Cavendish.

He's just come
today from London.

Good evening.

Good evening.

*

If you'll excuse me.

*

May I?

Oh, of course, please do.

It's so good to hear
English spoken again.

I never quite get used
to all these accents.

*

This is one of
my favorite tunes.

Do you dance, Mr. Cavendish?

Well, I...

Funny, in London,
it would seem

quite improper for
me to ask you.

But here it seems
all right, doesn't it?

*

I imagine you're a
rather courageous person.

Oh, why do you say that?

I'm hoping, no,
praying that you are.

What do you mean?

Mrs. Ballister,

I have been nominated
a committee of one

to tell you something,
which is something,

I'm afraid, no matter
how gently I try, can only...

*

Ordinarily, they tell
people to sit down

at a time like this.

I think you're a woman who
might prefer to be standing.

I don't know what
you're trying to tell me,

but whatever it is,
please say it.

Mrs. Ballister,
your husband is dead.

His body is up
on the Schwarzhorn.

*

*

It's not true.

It can't be true!

How did it happen?

Did he fall?

Apparently he died of
exhaustion and exposure.

Isn't there a chance that,
that he's still alive?

Michael and I, we--
we'd hardly begun.

I'll take a party
up in the morning

and try and bring him down.

*

But he said he was only
going to the mountain.

He promised me
he'd be all right.

He said I wasn't to worry.

Mrs. Ballister,
the Schwarzhorn is one

of the most dangerous
ascents in the world.

Many experienced climbers
have lost their lives up there.

You will find
him, won't you?

You will bring
him back to me?

I'll do my best.

Oh, please.

I don't know if
I can bear it,

not to look at him
once more, not to see him,

to touch him again.

*

*

*

(wind howling)

*

We crossed the mountain
by the eastern arête,

descending on
the south side.

Found Ballister.

It was then
the grimmest episode

of that terrible
day occurred.

With infinite care,

we began to untie the
frozen ropes which bound him.

A gust of snow
blinded us for a moment,

throwing us back,

and in that second,

the body slipped
away from us.

*

We watched hopelessly,

as it gathered speed and
disappeared into a crevasse.

He's fallen
into the glacier.

*

I could not shake off
the feeling that somehow

I had betrayed a trust.

I had discovered that
she was an only child

and both her
parents were dead.

She seemed so
friendless, so alone.

Danke schön.

Thank you.

Could I have my
bill too, please.

Well, there's no
need for you to leave

just because I'm leaving.

-It's all right.
-I'm quite able

to take care of myself.

I really don't
want to stay on here.

When must you be in London?

Not for a couple of weeks.

Could you come
to Brig with me?

Brig?

Yes, George Liston's
in the clinic there.

I want to talk to him
and that man, Herr Ranks.

And since you know about
mountains and climbing

and things, I, I thought
perhaps you could come with me.

I want to find out if
he's telling the truth.

The truth?

About the accident?

But why shouldn't he?

Michael was strong.

He'd never have just
stopped breathing.

Something else
must have happened.

I've got to find out.

Will you come?

Yes, I'll come.

Thank you, Mr. Cavendish.

*

In that second

I knew I wanted to
hear her call me Mark.

Not Mr. Cavendish,
but Mark.

"Mark, my dear."

"Mark, my darling."

In that second I knew
I had begun to love her.

*

Hello, Herr Ranks.

And this is Mrs. Ballister.

I'm a friend of hers.

I'm sorry about
your husband.

And I'm sorry
that I wasn't there

the day you came
to the hotel

and persuaded
him to go with you.

Perhaps, if I had been,
he wouldn't have gone.

I know how you must feel.

You blame me,
and you are right.

I am partly responsible.

What do you mean,
you are responsible?

Well, we left
with too little food

and that was bad
planning on my part.

And I should have considered
the youth of my companions.

You see, young men
can never climb so well.

They don't have the
lungs for it or the legs.

No, I should never
have led them up.

And I should have controlled
your husband more, madam.

He was an
inexperienced climber.

I tried to warn him
not to go so fast,

but, he being young,

believed there was nothing
he could not conquer,

not even the Schwarzhorn.

Finally, he
collapsed altogether.

His heart gave out.

I swear to you we stayed
with him until he died.

Although the wind was
quite dangerous for us

and he was evidently dying.

We stayed with him
until it was all over.

Why do you make such a
point about staying with him?

Because it was at
a great risk to us,

Liston and myself.

How can I be sure that
you did stay with him?

How can I be sure
that you didn't go off

and leave him to die
alone on the ridge?

Because I have told you so

and Liston will tell
you the same thing.

We were with
him until he died.

Up there in the
cold and the darkness,

the utter loneliness.

While I waited in
the hotel with a fire

and the sound of music!

You left him
up there to die!

I know it!

No!

Please!

No, you did it!

I know!

I have said it is my fault.

What more does
she expect from me?

Forgive me, Mr. Cavendish.

I'm ashamed of
the way I behaved.

It's all right.

You've gone to so
much trouble for me.

Thank you.

Well, there's no point
in our staying here.

What about George Liston?

Don't you want to talk to him?

What more can he
tell me except...

No, that won't
bring Michael back.

Nothing will bring him back.

Only I.

You?

Michael and I, we had
what very few people have,

a perfect marriage.

This may sound
fanciful to you,

but somehow it
was ordained,

predestined that
we should meet,

that we should
love each other.

Six months.

Such a little time,

but we had more
than most people have

in all their lifetime.

Far more.

And that's how I'll
bring Michael back.

By remembering.

By taking each moment
of our time together

and expanding it into a month
or a year of remembering.

Do you understand?

That way, if If
I live to be 80,

I shall never
live long enough

to recapture all of it.

Stella...

it's wrong
to live in the past.

No matter how hard we try,

we can't make
time stand still

any more than we can preserve
the roses of last summer.

Oh, but you can.

Don't you see?

You can!

Particularly if the
roses are packed in ice.

That way they might last
forever, mightn't they?

*

I returned to
London with Stella.

In the weeks that followed,

I saw her
whenever she'd let me.

Once I took her
to a concert,

twice to the theater.

But it was not until
Christmas of that first year,

I had any
encouragement from her,

a note inviting
me to have tea

with her in her
house in Mayfair.

On the strength
of this summons,

I stopped that
morning at the jewelers

and picked up the ring
I had ordered weeks before,

a ring I knew I would
never place on the finger

of any woman
other than Stella.

Mark, it's so
good to see you.

*

It's charming, Stella.

But, of course,
it would be.

Please.

I'm so grateful that you
were able to be free today.

This is a very important day.

I rather thought so, too.

Stella, I, I never thought
the time was right before,

but now...

This says
it better than I can.

If I could ever wear
anyone's ring again, Mark,

it would be yours.

I'm sorry.

Stella, please think it over.

I, I love you and
you, you need someone,

-Someone.
-Mark, I can't.

Where I'm taking
you this afternoon

and what we're going to do,

will explain to
you why I can't.

*

*

Well, Mrs. Ballister,
I shan't bore you

with the science of
these computations.

I imagine you simply--

This doesn't bore
me, Professor.

I just want to be
sure, that is all.

Mmm-hmm.

The question here was,

how far and how fast does
the glacier move each year?

Well, the rate of flow
differs from year to year,

depending on the balance
between the melting line

and the accumulation area

at the upper end
of the glacier.

The melting line, of
course, is at the lower end.

The ablation or wastage area.

Now, the flow
of the glacier

actually starts
within the ice itself,

at least 200 feet
beneath the surface.

There we get the basal slip

along the bed of the valley,
caused mostly by gravity.

But the ice also
moves by crystals

pushing each
other out of shape.

Uh, we call
this plastic flow.

By measuring the grains

and the direction
of the ice crystals,

by readings on a
micro altimeter,

by checking our gravity meter

to tell us what the
rock floor is like,

we can calculate the rate
of flow rather precisely.

On the 21st of July,
Mrs. Ballister,

in the year 1947,

more likely in the morning,
rather than in the afternoon,

I should say,

your husband will
come out of the ice

at the foot
of the glacier.

You see, Mark?

I shall have
Michael back after all.

I realized then that
Stella had made her choice.

That for the next 40 years

she intended to
wait for Michael,

just as I knew I
must wait for Stella.

*

The years slipped away,

each one faster
than the one before.

And now once more,
I came up the valley.

It was a cloudy day,

just as it had been that
Wednesday 40 years ago.

And again I saw the broad,
icy spread of the glacier.

I knew it now
for what it was.

A tombstone.

A vast crystal trench
which had enveloped us,

molded and shaped us,
Stella and me,

for this day, this 21st
day of July, 1947.

I think you should
go back to the hotel.

I'll come and get
you when it's time.

But the Professor said,
"More likely in the morning

than in the afternoon."

Don't you remember, Mark?

Yes, I remember,
but all the same.

He couldn't be wrong!

No, of course not, but still,

I think you should
wait at the hotel.

No, Mark, I want to stay.

(wind blowing)

Mr. Cavendish!

Look!

*

The glacier had used
Michael Ballister tenderly.

The years had
taken no toll of him.

Seeing Stella with him,

I could see what the
years had done to her.

I knew what they
had done to me.

*

Your locket was still
around his neck, Stella.

*

The girl who stared out
at me was not Stella,

but someone strange.

A pretty face, but cheap.

It's a, it's a
miniature of you.

Not a very good
likeness, but...

Thank you, Mark,

but he had no locket
with a portrait of me.

*

*

*

So much for our version
of The Iceman Cometh.

I shall return for a
final word in a moment.

First, we have come to one
of those treacherous crevices

that riddle the
glacier of television.

I think I should
begin my descent

before I become the
source of a legend

about an abdominal snowman.

Next week, I shall once again
return with another story,

spliced together
by commercials.

Until then, goodnight.