Original subtitles

Oh, Ferdinand, Rome is the most marvellous of them all.

Look how the steps go down to the market.

Later we'll go down and buy some flowers.

Rome. After all these wonderful places we've been together

and all these wonderful weeks away, Rome is the most marvellous of them all.

Mm. All these days away.

And still not a single line from your father.

- Were you expecting to hear from him? - By this time, yes.

He knew what would be our address in Rome and yet there is nothing from him.

- It is very odd. - He doesn't care for writing letters.

Ah, but there are certain letters which must be written and written soon.

What letters, Ferdinand?

Your father must declare what he intends to do about money.

He is indisputably a rich man who should be both able and willing

to give his only daughter a considerable fortune.

He's never spoken a word to me about money in his life.

Then, my goodness, he must start now.

Almost as soon as we return home, I am to stand for Parliament.

Now, that in itself should not be costly,

as the thing has been more or less arranged already,

but when I'm in the House I shall have a certain position to maintain

and I must know how I'm to be situated financially.

But surely you have money of your own.

You never indicated before we were married that there were difficutties,

quite the reverse, in fact.

Well, to tell you the truth,

things have somewhat changed since we became engaged.

My business... My business is precariously balanced just now.

What is your business?

It is generally commercial. You see, I buy and sell on speculation.

And when we were first engaged,

everything was as bright as roses with me.

And now?

I've had disquieting letters from a partner of mine.

In business like ours, things will go astray sometimes.

It would be of great service to him to learn your father's intention.

What do you want me to do?

I need £3,000, and it would come better if you were to ask.

Ferdinand has been talking to me about my fortune.

I told him that I knew nothing and that since money

was never discussed before our marriage, I had not asked you about it.

He says he's always been prepared to explain his affairs to you

and that it would be ofsome service to him to know what you propose.

He also hopes you may find it convenient to allow him to draw upon you

for some portion of it at present

£3,000, he says, would be of great use to him in his business

By George, he's a brick after all.

I own, I did not think it.

My darling, how much I owe you for all the trouble that I have given you.

If he's been good to you, I'm so pleased.

He has been awfully good.

Here. Read for yourself.

You know, it's a pity that we didn't ask for four thousand.

Or five, or ten.

I mean, think of him as just taking me at my word.

It's better than I'd come to expect after he'd kept quiet for so long.

- Papa is rather cool, I think. - But he has answered to the whip.

And that trouble is over. I mean, we can enjoy ourselves now.

- Was £3,000 as important as all that? - Of course not, my love.

But as I told you, it is very convenient at the moment.

And then I have been worried in general lest he might be going to ignore us.

Shall I write to Papa and thank him?

I shall write telling him where to pay the money

and you should write, too, in a day or so.

As he has come round over this, we must show ourselves very civil.

For the sake of the future.

Papa seems to be saying we can expect no more from him.

That, of course, is absurd and he cannot mean it.

£3,000 is nothing to him.

Naturally, I shall ask for no more at present,

but no doubt he will very soon make permanent arrangements.

Never mind that just now.

We will both write gratefully and leave it there for the time being.

Eh? And how happy we can be during these last days in Italy.

And when we return home, I shall be full of strength

for my election at Silverbridge.

- Cora. - Hm?

- I've got something to say. - Hm? Please say it, Plantagenet

Very well. It's time to put an end to all this.

- All what? - All this...entertainment.

But, Plantagenet, you approved the idea at the start.

Yes, the idea perhaps, but the reality's gone far enough.

While I'm burdened with this present office,

I can't continue to receive guests in the house.

- They're all people whom you need. - I don't need them here.

With most of 'em, I'd get on very much better in their absence.

Do you remember that sickening affair, Sir Orlando Drought?

All that could have been avoided if he'd not been allowed to become too familiar.

The important men, little men, for that matter,

like to approach their prime minister.

They're making my life impossible!

It's got to cease.

I see. So it's a case of repel borders.

You cannot positively turn out those people who are staying here new,

but I beg you, no further invitations.

Phineas Finn, Plantagenet, he is due over from Ireland in a day or two

and I was just about to invite him.

- His wife is here. - Finn may come and go as he pleases.

He's an old friend. But don't encourage any of these others to linger.

Except Lady Rosina. She stays for as long as we do.

Oh, so now it'll just be Darby and Joan and Aunt Rosina.

What a galaxy of fashion and wit.

Well, that's the way I shall like it.

And as for these others, I'll have no more of it.

The Duke of St Bungay says that these assemblies

are a great assistance to your ministry.

And so they were at the beginning.

But now it's degrading me.

Degrading you?

There are those who say I'm bribing men with hospitality.

You are so thin-skinned that any counsel you take as a form of criticism.

- You must ignore them. - I try to, Cora.

And it's very hard, you know, to ignore journalists who write about you daily.

Quintus Slide in The People's Banner, he has a poisonous pen.

One day he'll prick himself to death with it.

He may prick me to death first.

Cora, will you do as I'm asking, about ceasing all this here at Gatherum?

Yes. If you order it.

But it is hard to be told, after all my work, that it has degraded you.

And so it has, and you too.

All these false smiles and false words.

I have told you that if you wish to remain as prime minister,

someone must smile at your supporters, if not you, then me.

It's been for you that I've done it.

That people might know how really gracious you are and how good.

Is that unbecoming a wife?

Still, I own, Plantagenet, I shall be glad to doff my mask.

It was beginning to grow...

Degrading.

Shaking hands with all those cads and cadesses

has nearly worn by poor hand away.

You...

You must not think, Plantagenet, that I am not clever enough to realise

how ridiculous I am.

So, the Duke has had his way and the party is to be run down.

High time too, from what I've heard.

Even in Ireland, there were whispers she was overdoing it.

She's certainly put her whole heart and soul into it.

Perhaps it did become a little extravagant.

But on the whole I think she was of service to him.

Her hospitality makes up for his aloofness.

He never was hail-fellow-well-mei and nobody should have expected him to be.

But people certainly expect a prime minister, even this one,

to occasionally say a civil word.

You've been so much away, Phineas, you don't realise how the coalition

has been hurt by this man's coldness of manner.

Glencora's entertainments did at least make for a salutary rise in the temperature.

And now autumn's coming on, her entertainments must be put aside.

Autumn.

For all of us, I think.

Are you beginning to feel middle-aged, Marie?

Never when I'm with you.

Oh, I'm away from you so much.

Well, then, you are the greater tonic when you are here.

I have always believed that a husband and wife should be a great deal apart.

Love is easily staled, Phineas.

Ours is in no danger of that.

That is because we do not try too far. We are not greedy for it.

We each have our other love, so we do not devour each other.

You have your career and I... I have the Duchess.

I hope my career won't suffer if the Duke has to resign, but the Duchess...

The Duchess will break her heart if anything goes wrong.

Then she must break it sooner or later.

No ministry lasts for ever. She of all people should know that.

She'll soon find some new amusements, I dare say.

By the way, what's to be done about the by-election at Silverbridge?

The Duchess wants the seat for this man Lopez.

But the Duke has made no promise?

The Duke has been very angry with her.

She tried to say a few words at Silverbridge,

but he has crushed the whole affair.

The Duke of Omnium and Gatherum

wishes it made known to all his tenants in and around Silverbridge

he will not in any way influence, advise or suggest any choice of candidate

which the citizens of Silverbridge may make for the forthcoming by-election.

Neither the Duke, his agents, nor the members of his family

are at any time to be consulted or even considered.

His Grace has made it very plain, you see.

And Her Grace has made it very plain to me

and to you too, I think, that she wishes me to be elected.

His Grace says even if she does, it ain't to count with us.

The Duke cannot speak for the Duchess.

Round here, the Duke speaks for everything that breathes.

If he says we're now to vote as we wish, then we vote as we wish.

And how is that?

We're old-fashioned men with old-fashioned ways.

We don't want reform, never have done.

Only gives people silly ideas.

And yet you have returned a Liberal ever since the Old Duke's time.

Long before that, but only because the castle said so.

Now the castle says we're to go our own way,

and that way will be Conservative, which ain't your way, I think.

- So, you are deserting me. - There's no more help I can give you.

Very well, Mr Sprout. I shall fight on by myself.

I know it's not my business to say so,

but if l were you I'd cut my losses and run along home.

Mr Sprout, I am very sure that the Duchess will make some sign,

send some message, if only by an undersllapper from the castle.

Their Graces left the castle this morning for a short visit to London.

There's a sign for you, if you want one.

Well, Lady Mabel, I'm so glad that you and Miss Casewary

let me know that you were in Venice.

- How long do you stay? - Until Papa gets tired of it.

Or can get no further credit at the gaming rooms.

And how is your father?

Even worse than he was before poor Mama died. What do you say, Miss Gas?

Oh, it is not my place to criticise Lord Grex, Mabel.

Shall we say that he depended on your mother more than he knew

and that her death has left a gap in his life.

Yes, it has left him without anyone to bully,

though I dare say he'll start on me soon enough.

If that happens, Lady Mabel, you will have friends to whom you can turn.

As to that, Lord Silverbridge, we shall see.

It's something that he's taking you on this tour.

It is not a tour, Lord Silverbridge. It is an economy.

We are on the continent to save the expense of living in London.

But that is enough of our dingy affairs. How has your own tour been so far?

Well, mine is not a tour either, Lady Mabel.

It is an exile. As you know, I left Oxford inconveniently early.

So, for the time being, I'm to be kept out of the way.

Oh, come, Lord Silverbridge.

Travel for a young man in your position

must be both a pleasure and an education.

An education, perhaps. As for a pleasure...

I think my greatest pleasure on this tour will be my return home from it.

Yet I must say I'm becoming increasingly fond of my little corner of Venice.

You see?

Yes. I don't wonder you're becoming attached to it.

Come along, Miss Gas. We must be going.

Have a care, my lord.

Venice, so I have heard, gets a dangerous grip on unaccompanied gentlemen.

Well, for the moment at least I'm not unaccompanied.

- You remember Frank Tregear? - Oh, yes, indeed.

- Are you long in Venice, Mr Tregear? - No, Lady Mabel. I'm off very soon.

I'm to make a long tour through southern Germany and Austria.

Yes, you always did like being off and on the move, as I recall.

So, soon you will be alone again, Lord Silverbridge.

Not, I hope, as long as you're in Venice.

You and Miss Cassewary must treat this as your own.

Come as often as you wish. Come every day.

It certainly makes a nice change from our hotel.

But we must not overdo our visits to you, Lord Silverbridge.

Venice, so I have heard, is a great place for gossip.

No gossip can touch us, Lady Mabel.

We've known each other since the age of innocence.

That age has passed, Lord Silverbridge.

Well, Miss Cass will be here to uphold the proprieties.

Come as often as you can. It's such a happy thing to see old friends.

- Nice girl, Lady Mab. - Oh, yes.

And Miss Cassewary has a good old son,

staying on with Mabel and putting up with that beastly father.

I always understood that Miss Caasewary had no choice.

She's a good old sort, all the same.

How well do you know her? Mabel, I mean.

I knew her quite well once.

I thought there was something between you.

Don't sit on my hat. But lately I've seen her very little.

Why not stay a bit longer and see a bit more?

I'm not inclined to change my plans on account of Lady Mabel Grex.

I have some serious travelling to do.

I shall miss you, old fellow. Will you come back to Venice when you're done?

I dare say. I plan to finish my tour

with a long hike through the Camic Alps.

That'll bring me full circle and very near Venice.

Well, you're welcome here.

That's if I'm still here to welcome you. Which is quite likely, I think.

It'll be some time yet before I'm allowed to return home.

There you are, sir. I did warn you.

Mr Arthur Fletcher, Esquire: 1044 votes.

Ferdinand Lopez, Esquire: 182 votes.

More than I thought you'd get doing it off your own bat

I don't suppose any man was ever so treated before.

The fact is, sir, you were to come here as the Duke's nominee.

Once he said he had no nominee, you were never anywhere.

I did not understand that from the Duchess.

I dare say Her Grace meant for the best,

but just this once the Duke's been too many for her.

I'd say there's been a little misunderstanding up at the castle.

A little misunderstanding for which I am left to pay the bill.

You ain't the only one out of pocket.

It cost Her Grace 35 guineas for a dozen pair of thick com-soled boots,

not one of which she'll ever wear if I know her dainty ways.

You had my telegram?

Oh, Ferdinand, it is so wretched.

And a wretched business it was too.

I could hardly believe it.

Everybody suddenly seemed to turn away from me.

Everybody there deserted me.

You did not give up?

No, the more fool I.

The Duchess originally intimated that I would be returned unopposed,

in which case the cost would have been almost nothing.

But new the expense of a contested election,

win or lose, is at least £1,000.

Ferdinand. Have you paid it?

Not yet, but no doubt the bill will come in before long,

that at least I can depend upon.

I mean, the Duchess must have known what would happen.

By Jove, Emily, she left the castle the day I reached Silverbridge.

A short visit to London, they say.

Men and women have become so dishonest that nobody is safe anywhere.

It is hard.

It is cruelly hard, Emily. I don't suppose there was ever a time in my life

when the loss of £1 ,000 would have been as much as 'it is now.

The question is, what will your father do for us?

So you have come back from Silverbridge?

- Yes, sir, and not triumphant. - Oh?

Thank you.

The Duchess left me in the lurch.

She was always a somewhat volatile woman.

Listening to her has cost me £1,000 for nothing.

Seats in Parliament have always been an expensive luxury.

Well, I have had the expense but not the seat,

and I did not look upon it as a luxury, sir, but as an honor.

And as an assistance in your trade, I suppose?

An assistance, sir, in my profession,

but I still should not have tried 'rt had the Duchess not encouraged me.

What is all this to me, Lopez?

Emily wanted 'rt so much, sir, and but for her I should not have thought of it.

You have just blamed the Duchess for that.

The Duchess was very certain, sir,

but I still should not have tried it had not Emily desired it. Just at present...

Lopez, rather than hear any more of this, I will pay the money.

You have already drawn on me extensively.

But rather than have my chambers used as a kind of Wailing Wall, sir,

I will this once accede to your obvious wish.

£1,000, you say?

There may be some small extra charges for which I have yet to be apprised.

Those you may apply to the Duchess, perhaps.

There you are, sir. Here's what you came for.

You are very generous, sir.

Someday soon, I do hope that you will allow me to explain

the scope of my affairs to you.

I do not know that it can do any good.

You object to hearing about my concerns?

No, I would not object. I simply do not see how I could serve them.

And yet serve them he must.

I had wished to tell him everything there and then,

but his manner was too discouraging.

Now, I may yet have to ask you to do it.

It would come better from you, I think.

Very well. But as he has come up to the mark with this, it would be sensible,

I think, to let the reins lie loose on his neck for a while.

Is that how you think of him?

Upon my soul, I do not know what to think!

I've been so abused and cheated over this election

that I can hardly see straight.

There is one thing I have begun to see.

The Duchess encouraged me to go in for Silverbridge under false pretenses.

If anyone owes me compensation, it is she.

But Papa has just paid the cost.

But I have no doubt the bill will be more in the end. They always are.

Besides,it is not only the money.

There has been treachery here, Emily.

And for me there has been humiliation.

I must therefore put it to you, my Lord Duke, that I was misled,

and I must respectfully request that I 'll be reimbursed the £1,000

which I was compelled to lay out in consequence.

Well? You see what you've brought upon me

with your interference and your disobedience?

- The man is a blackguard. - I don't think you can call him that

Let him be what he may. He was your friend.

He was my acquaintance and I swear I shall never speak to Mr Lopez again.

You speak to him or not, he was the man whom you selected

as your candidate for the borough against my wishes.

He was the man whom you continued to support for some time

in direcl disobedience to my orders.

Oh, Planty, we've had all this out already.

Cora, you feel no shame, being written about by such a man as that?

You want me to roll in the gutter because I mistook him for a gentleman?

Your mistake was to disobey me.

Now, what am I to do? My enemies I may overcome.

But I cannot avoid the pitfalls which are created for me by my wife.

I'm sorry. What more can I say?

My secretary read that letter

and he handed it back to me in silence.

What am I to do?

Tear it to pieces and let that be an end of it.

I'm not sure that he does not have right on his side.

The man's a blackguard, certainly, should never have made such a claim,

taken advantage of a mistake made by a good-natured woman

in her vanity and folly, but he does have a show of justice.

He stood no chance at Silverbridge once I was fully understood.

Money absolutely wasted and it was only through your encouragement

that he continued to spend it.

Pay it back, then. The loss will not hurt us.

Cora... If only it was so easy.

Suppose that I pay it, and indeed I begin to think that I must...

and suppose that such a payment,

made by a queen's first minister, became known to the newspapers.

- Why should it be? - Such things always are known.

And when it is known, they'll say I bribed him to hold his tongue.

To hold his tongue? About what?

Anything they care to imagine, including the truth, which is that at one stage

there positively was interference by the castle in the borough.

It will be no bribe if you pay him because you think you ought.

And how do I excuse that?

I shall know that my motives are pure, I shall know that I'm paying him the money

because she who is dearest in all the world to me

has through her impetuous folly caused that wretched man

to be led into this expense.

I can't say that out loud, Cora.

I cannot reveal that my wife, my wife,

has been arrogant and vain.

But you must say it, if it will save you.

You must say it everywhere.

It will not be new to anyone that your wife has done a foolish thing.

- You must say it everywhere. - No, Cora.

But you must. Pay the £1,000 if you will and make no secret of it.

- Then, if the papers talk about it... - There could be questions in the House.

If it becomes damaging in any way, tell the exact truth,

that it was I who brought this trouble upon you.

You are always saying that only the truth ever serves.

Well, tell it now and do not concern yourself with me.

My skin is so thick, so commonplace, I shall not care what anyone thinks.

Cora.

I don't think you quite understand me.

I never understand anything, IL seems.

No.

No, I don't think you quite understand what it is that I feel about you.

I could not say a word against you, even to a friend.

You think I would wish to avoid censure by putting the blame publicly on you?

But I think that you should, and stick to the truth.

The truth? The truth is that a man and his wife are one,

and for what she does, he is responsible.

Now, I shall pay the money because I think it's right that I should.

And I take the consequences myself.

I...am guilty, Plantagenet

I am guilty

I'm sorry to keep you wailing, Duke. Unavoidably delayed.

- Well, ready now. - For our walk? But it's raining.

Is it? Oh.

Oh. I hadn't noticed.

- Have you read the papers? - No. Are they hostile?

Quintus Slide in The People's Banner, that's the worst.

A f... ministry, he calls us.

Gatherum butterflies. Glencora's archers.

The smug fatty meat on the rotting carcass of the Whig aristocracy.

My dear boy, I don't know why you trouble to read such stuff.

Time was when you didn't trouble to.

I find I grow more sensitive as the months pass.

I despise everything I read, Duke, but I feel compelled to read 'em.

Hm. I search my conscience, lest any portion of it may be true.

Well, it is true that we are making no new laws,

but, then, we were not put in to make laws.

We were put in to hold the ring

until our trade and other such matters have been put right,

and that we are doing.

But it's not only the newspapers, Duke.

Some of our own men, they're getting restive.

Sir Oflando Drought for one, but most of them, and the best of them,

still like the peace and certainty of the coalition.

Well, perhaps that's it.

Perhaps the coalition is too peaceful, too certain.

Perhaps we should consider new legislation,

even if it does lead to uneasiness and dispute.

There is no sign at all the nation wants any such thing.

Remember this, Palliser.

Good government is unobtrusive government.

The less that is heard or seen about it, the better.

All Englishmen will cry amen to that

and will thank you for giving such government to them.

Here he is, Mama.

Gerald.

How well you look.

Well, I've been going out regularly up at Cambridge.

The Fen air obviously suits you.

I hope you've also been minding your books

and behaving very politely to all the dons.

- I've not been so bad, Mama. - I'm relieved to hear it.

Any repetition of your brother's behaviour would kill your father, I do believe.

- In a bad way, is he? - He worries so much.

Yes, and often about things that don't really matter.

But he has had his difficulties lately, so we must all be very considerate,

especially as I have a nice little plan that I want him to agree to.

What are you up to, Mama?

Well, I want to try and persuade your father to have a holiday

and take us all to Italy to join Silverbridge before the winter session.

- How lovely. - It'll be nice seeing Silver again.

But first His Grace must be persuaded,

so we must all be very, very good.

Sexty, what the devil are you doing here?

Why shouldn't I be here?

- I'm your partner, ain't I? - That is for the City.

Only you ain't been near me in the City, not for days.

I'm worried, Lopez. I'm worried rotten.

Well, perhaps this will cheer you up.

'Pray pay Ferdinand Lopez, Esquire, the sum of£1,000 only,

confirmed figure, signed...0mnium.'

Well, this'll be good, if it's what it says it is.

- And just how did you come by it? - It represents my election expenses.

I was the Duke's candidate, or I thought I was, and he let me down,

so he's done the only honorable thing.

Your election expenses were paid by your father-in-law.

His money indeed went to pay them.

This is, as you might say, compensation for my disappointment.

It should keep us going very nicely for a while.

- Not for long, Lopez. - What do you mean, not for long?

You had £3,000 paid into your bank by my father-in-law on my wedding tour.

- Which was some time ago. - This from the Duke makes 'rt £4,000.

2,000 went to buy back bills. You've had another fl.

- A man must have some money in his pocket. - You've had 500 in yours.

Then more settling over those dug mining shares.

Only a few hundred. That still leaves me with over 1,000 in credit.

You owe for your share of the guano, now worth about its weight in ...

I have told you the price will pick up in time.

But we've had all the time we can expect, Lopez.

Any minute new, they're going to come on us for the balance of the purchase money.

- There's only one thing for it. - You mean get more from old Wharton?

That's about it. It's time he came across with the real stuff,

instead of handing out loose change.

- How long have we got, Sexty? - Another month. With luck, maybe two.

I'll put more pressure on Abel. Like us, he has had all the time he can expect.

Now, you'd better be off. I've endorsed this cheque in your favour on the...

Afternoon, ma'am.

Right, you take yourself off and leave me to get working on the old man.

And who was that?

It was a business acquaintance, no-one for you to bother about.

But of course I bother.

I see some seedy little man sneaking out of my drawing room,

so seedy you don't introduce him to me,

and then you tell me you have business with him?

What did he want, Ferdinand?

He wanted money, my dearest.

I gave him some, but very soon he is going to want more.

Now, you have asked and now you shall hear.

There must be more money for that seedy little man, Emily.

There is only one source it can come from, your father.

He has never done the right thing by us, but, by God, he must do it now.

Since I cannot make him listen, you must get round him.

There must be more money!

You... You should go and see him every day.

He would be delighted if you were to go and visit him in his chambers or...

You could take care to be in his house when he comes home in the evenings.

I think he would like that

And when you are bringing him his slippers, just explain

that you, his only daughter, would wish to know what is to be done.

- Ferdinand... - Pet him and .. him.

Then tell him that he is a rich man and that he owes it to us to unbutton now.

How shall I ever find the words for this?

You'll find the right words.

If we are to go on being friends, my girl, you must find the right words.

Here we are, Mother.

Well, what do you think of it, sir?

It's enchanting, Silverbridge, that's the only word for it.

- But dangerously enchanting, sir. - Oh, Planty.

You're not to find fault the very minute you get here.

I know what Father means. I've fell it myself.

I thought you'd say something like that, sir.

Oh, Father, Mother, I'm so glad you could come.

Tell us about it, Silverbridge. Who did it belong to?

Well, the palazzo belonged - and still does -

to a family called the Monti Verdi del lsole.

Monti Verdi of the islands. Hm. Very pretty name.

But unfortunately they weren't a very pretty lot.

An ancestor founded their fortune with loot from the sack of Constantinople

and he brought back some Oriental habits as well.

These have never died out of the family.

- Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. - Planty, you are in Venice, remember.

Well, finally, the Oriental habits got so out of hand

that the family had to move into a slum and hire out this place.

Now the Monti Verdis of the islands are the Monti Verdis on the rock.

- What a dreadful joke. - One should never mock at adversity.

Even when it's caused by vice. I'm worried about Mary and Gerald.

They're taking a long time. Venice is perilous for young, innocent people.

It is a beautiful city with much to see. I knew they'd dawdle.

Ah!

What a joy it is to be in Venice again,

where you only have to turn the corner to be utterly lost.

Before they get here, Mother, there is one thing I should tell you.

- Frank Tregear is here. - Mr Tregear?

He's been on a walking tour through Austria

and he arrived in Venice just yesterday, purely by chance.

- I couldn't just turn him way. - You couldn't turn your friend away.

Why should you? Mr Tregear, as I remember, very mannerly young fellow.

As long as he refrains from being too mannerly with you sister.

I have warned him about that

It's all so beautiful,

yet so decayed, so sad.

Well, that's its secret, my dear.

Beauty and decay has a special kind of melancholy

which lends a special kind of charm

for which those of us who are growing old must be grateful.

I see none of us here who is growing old, Your Grace.

- You are very kind, Mr Tregear. - Truthful, Duchess.

Veritas tum veritas. The truth and then the truth. My family motto.

- Your family comes from Cornwall. - Yes.

From a little village near the sea. That too is beautiful.

More beautiful than this, or so I think, but then...l look at it with love.

Home is always more beautiful than anywhere else.

Not Gatherum Castle. Hideous place. Thank goodness we're not going back.

- You going to open up Matching? - When we get back to England.

- After a few days in London first. - Matching is our real home, Frank.

- It's where Gerald and I grew up. - And you will bring Mr Tregear there?

- We will have so much to show him. - Don't worry.

There will always be a room at Matching for Francis Tregear.

There you are. I trust that you've been with your father.

- Did you get any further with him? - I have not been with my father today.

- But you know how urgent it is... - Ferdinand.

I've been with the doctor this afternoon.

- You are not ill? - No.

But I've thought for sometime now that I... well, that is,

Don't you understand?

Oh, Emily.

My dear, forgive me for being so stupid and harsh.

- If only I'd known. - Well, now you do.

And I'm very happy-

Oh, Emily.

I would be happier still if it were not for all these terrible worries.

- When you tell your father of this... - Yes?

Tell him in such a way as to make him see

that now it is more essential than ever that he should do the right thing by us,

now that a child is coming.

So new the child is to be used to put pressure on my father.

- First myself and now my child. - It is for the good of us all, Emily.

It is to ensure our very survival, the child's too.

- Of course my father must be told. - Of course.

But I cannot use my child as if I was some beggar in the street

as blackmail to extort money.

Look, a beggar in the street you may very well be

if your father does not do something soon!

I cannot use my child. I cannot tell him such a wonderful thing and...

then ask for money with my next breath.

Then I think, Emily, since your feelings are so delicate,

that I must spare you pain and tell your father myself.

So there it is, sir, and we both hope

that you will be as pleased about it as we are.

- Why has not Emily come to tell me? - Well, you know how it is, sir.

She's very fragile and very precious to me, and I thought she should rest.

Since we owed it to you to let you know at once, I came myself.

Very considerate of you, Lopez.

So Emily is to bear a child.

Do you like the idea of being a grandfather?

It's not so much that I like the idea, Lopez.

It is what a man at my time of life must expect.

Emily thinks that in this new situation

you may be prepared to discuss my affairs with me.

For Emily's sake and that of the child,

I am prepared to listen to what you have to tell me.

And to see what is to be done.

Before anything can be done, I require to know the nature of your operations.

I've never been quite able to understand this.

Well, I don't quite know if l understand it myself, sir.

That has always been my impression, but if my inferences are correct,

you are a general merchant buying and selling goods in the market?

- That's about it. - What capital have you in the business?

- What capital? - How much did you put in at starting?

Well, money has gone in by degrees.

I have had attogether about, what, £8,000 in it.

- Does that include the £3,000 from me? - Yes, it does.

So you have married my girl and started into the world

with a business based on £5,000, a business which had so far miscarried

that within a month of the marriage you were forced to apply to me for funds.

- I wanted money for a certain purpose. - I dare say.

You had leased very expensive accommodation

and were in the middle of a luxurious wedding tour.

Have you any partner, Mr Lopez?

Yes, I have a partner who is in possess of some capital.

His name is Parker.

Seams Parker.

Mr Parker's capital is also your capital,

since you are business partners.

I can't quite explain it, but it is not as simple as that.

And what is the name of your firm?

- We haven't got a registered name. - Have you a place of business?

- Parker has premises in Tankard Lane. - That at least is true.

But he's described here as a stockbroker.

- Are you also a stockbroker? - No, sir.

Though I have sometimes had dealings in stocks.

I imagine you have dealings in anything which may be purchased on credit

and sold for a quick profit.

In one word, sir, you are an adventurer, if that be not too kind a word.

How can I possibly entrust my daughter's fortune or any part of it

to such a man as you?

- You entrusted your daughter to me. - Against my better judgement.

Which has now been most strongly confirmed.

I love my daughter but I see no reason for throwing good money after a poor, deluded girl.

- You can do as you please. - You've already had a substantial sum.

Although I fear it did not go far in concerns as far-reaching as yours.

- It was not very much! - Opinions on these matters differ.

At any rate, there will be no more.

So, you'll do nothing for us?

For Emily's sake and for the child's,

I shall be sure that they do not live in absolute want.

- And the child's father? - He too shall have bread from me.

- Since he cannot earn his own. - Bread? That is nothing. Nothing!

Then you may do without it, if you will.

There's a party to see you, Mr Slide, name of Lopez.

- A Ferdinand Lopez. - Mr Lopez to you, boy.

Very well. Show him in.

Mr Lopez. And what can I do, sir, for you?

- More what I can do for you, Mr Slide. - ls it, now?

Just a favour, Mr Lopez, or a quid pro quo?

I dare say you'll find yourself grateful.

In fact, £200 is what I had in mind.

In exchange for some parlamentary intelligence which I can offer you.

£200 is a lot to pay the piper, Mr Lopez.

Depends on the tune, Mr Slide.

Well, let's hear a bar or two and then we'll see.

Thing is, Mr Slide, I come to you as a victim.

I have been used and abused by high people and then trodden into the dirt.

We're on the side of the underdog,

but we don't pay good money just to listen to him whimpering,

not unless he's got something very particular to whimper about.

As you know, I was recently a candidate in the by-election at Silverbridge.

That's more like it, Lopez. That's more like it.

You just pipe a good ditty about that and 200 sovereigns it shall be.

In the beginning I agreed to stand because the Duchess of Omnium

represented to me that she would be my friend in the borough

and I also would be able to depend on the good office of the Duke.

Then the Duke got all righteous and announced

that he was determined not to influence the election.

And in the end the Duchess dropped me flat, so I lost, as you know,

and spent a lot of money to no purpose, £1,000, to be precise.

New, had it not been for the Duchess's promise of support,

I should never have thought of putting myself forward.

And so, Mr Slide, l...

Well, keep it coming, Mr Lopez. Keep it coming.

I wrote to His Grace and suggested

that I had been the vidim of a misunderstanding, to put it mildly,

and that my expenses should, in all equity, be reimbursed.

You did that, did you? Well!

And how did his high and mightiness reply?

- With a cheque for £1,000. - Really?

So, what it comes down to

is that the Duke of Omnium, the prime minister of England,

paid your expenses while you were standing

as a parliamentary candidate for his borough.

- That's it. - You'll sign a statement?

- Oh, yes. - He positively sent you the money? Yes?

The sending of the money was corrupt, whatever his motive may have been.

And talking of motives, may I ask, Mr Lopez, what your motive may be?

You don't come out of this story with much credit yourself.

My motive is to show up injustice and to uncover fraud.

And also to receive £200 and rub the Duchess's nose in the dirt.

But you surely realise, Mr Lopez, that if l publish all this,

your nose will go into the dirt alongside the Duchess's.

One good turn deserves another.

I was rather hoping that you might manage to adjust the facts very slightly

so that my part in the story might appear to be largely a passive one.

A passive one? Yes. The victim, of course.

And presumably you want us to say that you received the money from the Duke

rather than that you asked for it.

- That's about it. - Very well, Mr Ferdinand Lopez.

Suppose you agree to a smaller honorarium,

then we might be able to help you over that.

Let me suggest we present you as the innocent dupe

of the overweening aristocracy

and that instead of £200 for your statement, we pay you £100.

-150. -130.

Not bad, Lopez. A whole 100 more than the traditional fee.

- Traditional fee? - 30 pieces, if you recall, Lopez.

But I expect you've forgotten that old tale.