Original subtitles

(bright orchestra music)

- Half a crown, please sir.

Oh, five shillings, thank you very much.

(children singing in Old English)

(sniffing)

- Oh dear.

Oh, excuse me.

I think this should do the trick.

- Oh, should you, Mr. Pillson?

- Oh yes, I love sewing.

- Padre, you will be careful, won't you?

- Oh, have no fear, Your Majesty.

- Pillson, would you care for a snifter?

- Oh, no thank you, Major.

Not before a performance.

(grunting)

- Just to steady the hand.

(grunting)

- Tell me,

exactly what is Mrs. Lucas going to represent?

- Oh, it's a secret.

That is, she refuses to say.

- But she's made it quite clear

that her tableau is to come last.

- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon, Foljambe.

That'll be five shillings, Mr Cadman.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

- Miss Grosvenor.

- Good afternoon, Grosvenor.

- Good afternoon, Miss Mapp.

- What a lovely day for Mrs. Lucas' fiesta.

- That'll be half a crown, Miss.

- To enter my own garden.

- My orders, Miss Mapp.

- Well, I don't know.

- And as Mrs. Lucas explains, it's not for her,

but for the Tilling Hospital.

- Of course, that's understood.

- Thank you very much, Miss.

- A very good attendance, Mrs. Wyse.

- Excellent, Mrs. Lucas, excellent.

Come on, boys, sing out.

(children singing in Old English)

- Mrs. Booker.

Very pleased to see you here this afternoon.

Hello, ladies.

Mr. Streeter, my dear, how are you?

I'm very pleased to hear it.

Oh now, hallo, little girls.

Hope you enjoy the tableau.

(giggling)

Oh, Cadman, Foljambe.

- Madam.

- Nice to see you. - My gal,

what a day for you.

- My dear Elizabeth, how nice of you to pop in.

(speaking in Italian)

- Oh, the half crown must have been rolling

in my own inclusion, "No, no," I said, "I insist,

"even if it is my own garden."

- Yes.

Tilling has indeed come to the aid of the hospital.

- And what a love of a costume.

- Oh, how sweet of you.

- What does it represent.

No, don't tell me, let me guess?

- I'm keeping it as a surprise.

- Florence Nightengale?

- Oh, you'll see when we do the tableau vivant,

if you can wait that long.

- Beau de Sierre?

- possibly.

- Well, I must not monopolize you,

dear one, or I shall be lynched.

There's a whole cue of people

wanting to get a word with you.

Au reservoir.

- Come along you lovely lot.

The tea's so strong, you could trot a mass across it.

- This sandwich is lovely.

- So pleased to see you all sitting

in my garden and enjoying your tea.

I must think you all a nice nose gate to take home with you.

- Hello mum, fancy seeing you here.

(chuckling)

- Susan, good afternoon.

So please you could come and help

us entertain the old folks.

Mr. Wyse, good afternoon.

- How very nice your garden looks, Elizabeth.

Those del finnians.

- Exquisite, aren't they?

I must give you some seed.

And what is your part to be in the proceedings?

- Humble, indeed.

I pull the curtains to and fro as called upon.

- I hope the post of that stage

won't have made very big holes in my lawn.

- Oh, dear.

- Oh, that naughty choir boy,

now that I really cannot allow.

(applauding)

You're a very naughty little boy.

(bugle blaring)

- The execution of Mary, Queen of Scots.

(giggling)

(applauding)

(groaning)

(laughing and applauding)

- Congratulations.

- Oh yes, well done.

- I was simply terrified.

- Well done, Quadry.

You turned it up.

Going splendidly.

Come along, Georgie, your turn.

Come along my dear, hurry up, you're on.

- Do I look the thing?

- You look exactly the thing, old man.

- Thank you.

- Whatever it is.

Oscar Wilde.

Marie Antoinette.

- Major Benjy, behave yourself.

- Beau Brummell.

- Come along, my dear.

Georgie, hurry up.

Good luck.

Come along, you're on.

There you are.

Good luck, Georgie.

(laughing)

(applauding)

Come along, my dear.

- I was attacked by a wasp.

Oh, what a disaster.

- No, no Georgie, a veritable triumph.

Off you go, Major.

And don't forget the hall dine portrait.

- The what?

- Bluff king whole, but regal, legs apart.

- Regal,

legs apart.

(hiccuping)

The way, high.

- Oh dear.

- Georgie.

- Hm?

- You know who's here, don't you?

- Oh, she isn't.

- She is.

But I have a little plan in mind.

A little experiment.

(speaking in Italian)

(laughing)

- Woah.

(cheering and applauding)

(body thudding)

(frame thudding)

(sighing)

- Thank you, Grosvenor.

How delicious.

- Thank you, Madam.

- Boisted on the burning deck,

his feet were covered in blisters.

(groaning)

And his trousers were burnt off,

he borrowed a pair of his sisters.

Oh, a life on the ocean great,

a home on the rolling deep.

Where the scout their watchers read,

and the winds their elders keep.

And the winds their elders keep,

and the winds their elders keep.

(humming)

- Woah.

(applauding and murmuring)

Our beloved Britannia.

♫ Rule Britannia

♫ Britannia, rule the waves

♫ Britons never, never, never shall be slaves

♫ Rule, Britannia

♫ Britannia, rule the waves

♫ Britons never, never, never shall be slaves

(applauding)

(murmuring)

- Major, how about you?

Cucumber sandwich, maybe?

- Oh thank you, dear lady, no.

You don't think a little too military, do you?

- No, no, Major, it was King Harold, to the life.

So lucky you didn't trip until the curtain had come to.

- Well done, Mr. Pillson. - Eddy?

- No, thank you.

- Godiva? - And a stirring finale.

It was wee Britannia, with all her fiddle-faddles.

(giggling)

- Pardon me, you're much too flattering, I'm sure.

(chuckling)

Elizabeth, come in, come in.

I'll pour you a cup of tea.

- Just popped in to congratulate you all.

Padre, you were divine as executioner.

Your mouth so fixed and stern.

- I thank you, Mistress Mapp.

- I had a relief when the curtain came down.

And Irene, quaint one, how you made them laugh.

- I didn't hear you laughing.

- No, dear, but I've heard your little piece

on a number of occasions.

And above all, a wonderful Britannia, is it?

What a treat it has all been.

- That's very generous of you, Elizabeth.

Milk and sugar?

No sugar, just a drop of milk.

Well, we are all still Christians, are we not?

We must put aside any petty differences

in the cause of charity.

- Way high.

- A thousand pities the Contessa wasn't with us, Susan.

-[Susan] Oh, such a shame.

She writes you a lot for visiting us after all this summer.

- Alas, alas.

Thank you, dear.

- And your garden, dear?

How everyone enjoyed it.

- Yes, they seemed to.

Especially the choirboys with my figs.

- Well, your figs are a temptation, Mistress Mapp.

They're so very succulent.

- The Garden of Eden.

- What was that, Major?

- Temptation, but a fig 'stead of an apple.

- Oh quite, yes, I see.

- Which reminds me, I must send

the wee choirboys and girlies away.

Excuse me.

- Of course.

Elizabeth's Garden of Eden.

It was heartwarming to see the workhouse folk

wandering around picking my flowers.

- Heartwarming's the word, Lulu.

- Well, it's time I dragged myself away.

- Me, too.

- Oh, well then you will permit me to escort you.

We should make a pretty pair.

- Henry the Eighth and Mary Queen of Scots.

Now there's a combination.

I'll come with you and make a sketch of it en route.

- Tilling has never seen a month

with so much pleasure provided.

- Oh, Major.

- Miss Coles, the wee folk are asking for you

to repeat your horn pipe.

(giggling)

Or they won't go home.

- Well, the boys all know I'm a gal,

and the girls know I look like boy,

so here it goes, quite high.

(chuckling)

- Refreshingly outspoken, don't you think?

- I must be away and count up the lucky half crowns.

(laughing)

- So, it's off we go.

(murmuring)

(chuckling)

- Benjamin, would you mind.

- Oh, how well I remember you painting that picture,

and how I disturbed you with my blundering car.

- Perfectly delightful.

- Perfect little masterpiece,

that crooked chimney to the life.

-[Susan] Delightful.

The light in the shadow.

- Beautiful, what a touch.

- Lucia, my dear, I must be off, too.

Just one more stroll around the garden.

My roses will never forgive me

if I go without saluting them.

- How I wish I'd known that you'd finished it.

I would have begged you to let us

display it at our art exhibition.

It would have been the gem of it.

Cruel of you, dear Mrs. Lucas.

- Oh?

There must be some mistake.

- Mistake?

- Mrs. Lucas did submit it, Mr. Wyse.

- And Mr Pillson sent a sketch, too.

- The church.

- Submitted them?

-[Lucia] Exactly.

- To the hanging committee?

- Yes.

- But,

oh no.

- Yes, both our submissions were returned.

- Impossible.

My wife, Miss Mapp, and I are the hanging committee.

Susan, did that little masterpiece ever come before us?

- Never.

Never.

Never, never.

- Mark my words, there's been some hanky-panky.

That picture never came before the hanging committee.

- Georgie, may I?

Let us recall exactly what happened.

We had sent our little efforts down to the framer's

and told him to send them to Miss Mapp

at the Assembly Hall direct.

- To save time.

- Exactly.

- Never.

(gasping)

- Obviously, the framer misunderstood,

and returned the pictures to us

instead of to Dear Elizabeth at the hall.

- Are you sure? - Let me think

when, exactly that was.

What time did the hanging committee meet?

- At noon, precisely.

(gasping)

- That fits perfectly.

Georgie came round, and we had a little

confab about it, didn't we, Georgie?

- Well, what must you have thought of us?

- That you didn't think a great deal of our little efforts.

- This is really most distressing.

- How we all congratulate ourselves

that it has been cleared up.

Such a stupid framer.

- Stupid, in deed.

- Criminal, by hook or by crook, the exhibition

must secure Mrs. Lucas' enchanting picture.

- And Mr. Pillson's.

- Certainly, certainly.

- No, no, no, no, please, please, please.

Don't make too much fuss about it.

- No fuss at all.

I shall withdraw my paltry still life.

- No, no, that would never do.

That beautiful wallflower, I can almost smell it.

- The my King of Italy.

- No, no, mine shall go.

Two or three of mine, I insist.

- I have a better plan, we shall disturb nothing.

We shall place the two pictures in question

on easels in a prominent position.

- Certainly.

- You mean as one comes in?

- Yes, to show our appreciation

of our good fortune in procuring them.

- Excellent.

- Besides, it means that our little sketches

will not be so closely compared to Mrs. Lucas'

or Mr. Pillson's.

- So, all those in favor.

Carried.

(chuckling)

(fife music)

- Come and dance, Mapp.

It's fun.

(giggling)

-[Lucia] I insist on buying Georgie,

Mr. Pillson's, watercolor.

-[Georgie] Too kind, Mrs. Lucas.

(chuckling)

- And

that lovely little gouache of the marshes,

whose is that?

- Well, Miss Mapp's, of course.

- Not sold yet.

What a piece of luck.

- Ah.

And what about Mrs. Lucas' masterpiece?

- The only painting left unsold, I believe.

- Perhaps I put too high a price on it.

- The money will go to the hospital, of course.

- Of course.

- Of course.

- Of course.

Sold.

(humming)

- Why, I just can't get over it.

Can you?

Sending them back, oh myself.

- I'm not in the least surprised.

- But why did you let her off?

You should have exposed her and had done with her.

- What?

You mean produce the formal notice of rejection?

- What I would have done.

- Then it would have been a bad mistake.

- Oh, why's that?

- Because she knows now that we know.

And I can't wish her worse than that.

- Well, I see you point, but.

- Mr. Wyse certainly suspects something of the sort.

- Yes, he said there'd been some hanky-panky,

which is pretty strong language for him.

(giggling)

You should have exposed her, Lucia.

- No, Georgie, no.

(giggling)

Don't you see that I've knocked

the moral stuffing out of her?

But she's a liar, and a cheat.

She hasn't any moral stuffing to knock out.

- Then think of the moral stuffing I've put into my self.

A far greater score than to have exposed her.

- Oh.

Do you mean it'll be hanging over her

like the sword of Damocles, forever and a day?

(chuckling)

- Come.

Georgine.

- Hm?

- We mustn't be vindictive.

(giggling)

Now, let us forget these piccoli disturbi, and have

un po de musica to put us in touch with beauty again.

- Let's.

(sighing)

What a day.

Oh, your Britannia was absolutely magnifico.

(speaking in Italian)

- And I simply adored your Gonash.

- Brummell.

- What was that dear?

- I was portraying Beau Brummell.

- Of course.

Stupid of me, Beau Brummell.

- Toss-em wasp.

- Ecobite of Divine, Mozartina.

- I'll try.

- It does look rather diffy.

- Oh, well.

- One thing more Georgie.

I think we both better keep those notes

of rejection from the hanging committee, just in case.

- But our pictures are there now.

- I know, but we might need them someday, though.

I sincerely hope we shan't.

- Alright, I'll be glad to pay you.

- Good, you see, one must be careful

with dealing with that kind of woman.

- Oh, absolutely.

- And now, let us breathe harmony and loveliness again.

(counting in Italian)

("Non piu andrai" from The Marriage of Figaro)

(Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata")

(coughing)

(applauding)

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

Devoted to Chopin.

Major, dear, I see that I shall have to take

your musical education in hand.

- Well, or whoever.

(chuckling)

- Now, oh please, some more tomato salad,

light a cigarette, pour yourselves a drink.

Un po de musica must be informal.

Enjoy a bottle.

And now, an arrangement for four hands.

"Non piu andrai" by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

("Non piu andrai" from The Marriage of Figaro)

(snoring)

(applauding)

-[Wyse] Charming.

-[Elizabeth] Indeed.

Something more, I hope.

- How you all work me.

A fugue by Bach, then, if you insist on it.

And Georgie won't scold me if I break down.

(pages rustling)

- Nearly finished, 'Diva, dear.

Marrow,

six pots for you.

- You said a dozen the other day.

- So be it then, a dozen.

- Too generous.

- Have you had your invitation for Lucia's next po de mu?

- Thursday, yes.

Rather hot foot on the last.

So many movements of Mozart, I began to think

he discovered the secret of perpetual motion,

and we'd be there to doomsday.

- Yes, but are you going?

- Isn't a pity, 'Diva dear, or haven't you forgotten

you're playing piquette here with me that very night?

- Have I?

So I have.

- So, that'll put a dent in her po de mu.

- And her bridge parties.

- Well, of course, I haven't had the privilege

of playing with her.

- She began by saying how anxious she was to learn.

Now, she lays down the law like anything.

It's quite like playing with you.

This marrow stuff looks tasty.

- I told you, she hasn't rudiments of the game.

Mind you, she has every other

accomplishment, including push.

(door knocking)

- Pardon me, Miss, but Mr. Wyse would like a word with you.

- Mr. Wyse, how delightful.

Ask him to come in.

It will be about Lucia's po de mu, or I'm a Dutchman.

- We must put him off the idea of going.

- Not difficult, I imagine.

Caught him stifling several yawns the other night.

- Mr. Wyse, Miss.

- Miss Mapp.

Mrs. Plaistow.

- Good morning.

- How fortunate.

Two birds with one stone, as it were.

- Forgive me for receiving you in the kitchen,

but I pride myself on my bottling.

- Delightful.

The devil finds work for idle hands.

- I was just going to take my idle hands away.

- No no, I was casting no aspersions,

but I need your advice.

No doubt you've both been invited to Mrs. Lucas on Thursday.

- Another po de mu, yes, 9:30, I believe.

- Yes, I believe so.

- Unfortunately, I have a previous engagement.

- She's playing piquette with me.

Have you and Mrs. Wyse accepted?

- Yes, but a difficulty has arisen.

- In what way?

- From out of the blue, my sister writes

that he is going to pay us a visit after all.

- Not the Contessa.

- Di Faraglione.

Exactly.

- When do you expect her?

- Tomorrow.

- And staying?

- A week.

- So, she'll be here for Lulu's po de mu on Thursday?

- Quite.

It is about that that I need your advice.

Now, would it be socially in order if I were to ask

Mrs. Lucas if my wife and I could bring her?

- How could you ask?

Of course you must as Lulu, and of course she will say yes.

What else can she say?

(giggling)

- I say, as well as floods of Mozartino,

we'll have floods and floods of Italian.

- Yes, that's what I thought.

Such a treat for everybody, hearing my sister

and Mrs. Lucas in full flood, as it were.

- You may be sure that Mrs. Plaistow and I shall be there.

- Well, thank you for your advice.

Now I shall leave you to your bottling.

Good morning.

- Good morning.

- Good morning. - Good morning.

- What a ripe piece of news.

'Diva dear, we shall have to put off

our piquette to another night.

- I should say so.

I wouldn't miss the Countess Faragiglione for anything.

What if it turns out that Lucia does speak Italian?

- Trust me, 'Diva dearest, she knows no more Italian

than "good morning, good night, and spaghetti."

She can't help but be exposed.

- That would be rather amusing.

Being taken down a peg wouldn't do her any harm.

- We'll go.

Just the man I was hoping for.

- Oh, Mistress Mapp.

Very good day to you.

- I heard an extraordinary rumor.

- I can only guess what it could be, Mistress Mapp.

- That you have called a choir practice

at half past nine on Thursday evening.

- Aye, is that a crime?

- It's unusual, surely.

Isn't late afternoon a more usual hour?

- Aye, but a change is no bad thing for all that.

- But it means you won't be free to go

to Mrs. Lucas' next po de mu.

Very same time.

- Oh no.

I never thought of that.

- What a shame.

Especially as the Contessa di Faraglione will be present.

- Mr. Wyse's sister?

- None else.

- But I heard she wasn't to come.

- Well, she is now, and I was going to suggest

that you and Mrs. Plaistow might dine with me first,

and then go on to Mrs. Lucas' afterwards.

- Well, that's very kind.

I know you have replied to Mistress Lucas' kind invitation.

Gimme a wee think on it.

- Of course, well, do try.

- Good day.

- Quaint Ireney, joyful news.

- Something spiteful, I bet.

- Nothing of the sort.

The Contessa di Faraglione is visiting us afterall,

and so, we'll be,

oh my goodness, you have been invited

to Lucia's next po de mu, haven't you?

- Of course I have, but I'm surprised you have.

- My dear, I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Yards and yards of Mozart and Bach,

and yards and yards and yards of Italian as she spoke.

- Buon giorno, Lucia.

- Ah, good morning Lulu.

Joyful news.

- Yes, isn't it?

The Contessa after all.

- You mean you knew?

- Of course.

Mrs. Wyse telephoned me a half hour ago.

I told her how molto amabile it was of her

to give me the gran piacere of seeing the Contessa

at my little po de musica tomorrow evening,

and it would be another gran piacere

to talk la bella lingua again.

See you, casa mia, tomorrow, I hope?

(giggling)

Au reservoir.

Well, of course I had to say yes.

No way out of it.

- All Tilling is agog.

- The Contessa's going to be here for a whole week,

and I've had to accept an invitation to lunch

at the Wyse's the day after my po de musica.

- Couldn't you lose your voice?

- You lose yours, too.

Your an Italian linguist too, don't forget.

- Sprain your thumb.

- It would stop me playing, but not speaking.

- Sprain your thumb and lose your voice.

- Georgie, this is not time for frivolity.

No, no.

I have to avoid meeting her all together.

- What about influenza, then?

That's very popular this year.

- Georgino mia.

Georgie, I mean, that's it, of course, of course.

Influenza.

- But I can't have influenza, too?

- Why not?

- Because it would look too suspicious.

- Too?

Oh yes, I see what you mean.

- So, I'm bound to meet the Contessa, and she'll see

in a flash that I only have a handful of Italian words.

- Well?

- I'm not only thinking of myself.

Think how it will reflect on you.

How are you supposed to be jabbering away at me

in Italian all day long if it's quite obvious

I don't understand of what you're saying?

(groaning)

- What are we to do?

- I'm sure I don't know.

Quite obvious you haven't grasped the situation at all.

- Georgie, ou not cross with poor Lucia?

- Yes, I was rather.

Oh well, no matter.

Well what am I to do?

Che faro, in fact?

- Oh, for goodness sake, no more Italian.

It is ridiculous that we have to break ourselves

of the habit of doing something we can't do.

- Of course you realize Miss Mapp suspects.

- Of course she does.

- She said something to me in Italian the other day,

and was surprised, or rather pretended to be,

when I didn't understand it.

- Paper knife.

- How did you know that?

- She tried the same word on me.

- She didn't.

- She did.

- She looked it up in a dictionary, it was a trap.

- I've forgotten what the Italian word was now.

- Oh, so have I.

But what did you say?

- I said that it was her pronunciation that puzzled me.

(giggling)

- Oh, you're wonderful.

Fancy.

(giggling)

- Georgie.

Georgie.

- What?

- You'll have to go away.

- Go away?

I don't want to go away.

- And I don't want to have influenza.

But the devil drives when the needs must.

- Where will I go?

- And you must stay away 'til I send you a telegram

that the Faraglione has left.

- Where?

- Oh.

Folkston or Littleston, whichever you prefer.

- Well, nobody could prefer Littleston.

- Folkston, then.

Georgie, Georgie, I see it all.

You've not been looking well lately.

My dear, you're the picture of health, really,

but I'll put it about that you need a change of air.

You needn't bathe.

Take the rules and Cadman and Foljambe.

- I say, steady on.

- Oh well, we may as well make other people happy, Georgie.

(giggling)

Go to a nice hotel.

Half a bottle of champagne in the evening.

- Oh Lucia, look, this is all very well.

- One thing more.

- What?

- Georgie, Georgie, your little jaunt

is being taken entirely for my sake,

so I insist on paying for it.

- Oh.

- No, no, no, no, no, I insist.

So, off you go and pack, and leave

for Folkston first thing in the morning.

- Oh, Lucia.

- Georgie, I'll send you a telegram

when it's safe to return.

- You know,

perhaps Folkston may not be too disagreeable.

What do you think?

(laughing)

Au reservoir.

- Au reservoir.

(bright music)

Grosvenor,

I am confiding in you because I trust you.

That goes without saying, I hope.

- Thank you, Madam.

- Such a whirly-gig of social life entailing,

I've got very behind a hand in my correspondence

and reading and accounts, that sort of thing.

- Yes, Madam?

- So, for the next week, I am going to live the life

of a hermit.

No engagements, no callers.

But how am I to manage it?

- I really couldn't say, Madam.

- Do you think a good excuse would be

influenza?

- Very good, Madam.

- I'll give you a bulletin each day

as to the state of my health, and you will

pass it onto anyone who might call.

- I understand.

- And tell Coplan to take his week's holiday at once.

He wouldn't want to catch my influenza.

- No, Madam.

- Then, I want you to deliver these

envelopes as soon as possible.

Mr. And Mrs. Wyse, Major Flint, Mrs. Plaistow, the Padre,

and

(envelopes rustling)

Miss Coles.

Oh.

And Miss Mapp.

- Very good, Madam.

(bright music)

- Ready?

- Certainly, close the door.

- And how is Mrs. Lucas today?

- Still very poorly, Mrs. Plaistow, temperature is over 102.

- Oh dear, oh dear.

Please tell her I called and was asking after her.

- Yes, Madam, certainly.

(bright orchestra music)

- No better, Grosvenor?

Oh dear.

Are you sure she wouldn't like to have a word with me?

- Those are my orders, Miss Mapp.

No visitors.

She really isn't well enough, still a high temperature.

- Still in bed?

- Oh yes, Miss.

Hasn't stirred these past four days.

- Tell her I looked in, and hope she'll be better soon.

- Yes, Miss, of course.

(birds chirping)

(counting in Italian)

(bright music)

- This is little bibilo I picked up this morning.

- Picked up?

- Oh not in a trilly, no.

(chuckling)

I bought at the jewelers in the arcade.

(laughing)

(speaking in Italian)

So, how are you enjoying your stay here, Mrs. Brocklebank?

- Oh very much.

Folkston is so gay.

- Oh, I'm so pleased.

What about you, Maria?

- Oh yes, in a way.

- Maria and I have a little arrangement.

As I told you, my husband is English.

All as English is English.

- That's right, dear.

- He is a diplomatist, and he is next posted to Roma.

- Oh, lovely.

- Like a letter, no?

- Rome.

- Oh Rome, exactly, cara.

So, I am teaching Maria Italian

so she will know her way around.

- Oh, of course, it's so useful

to have foreign languages at one's fingertips, isn't it?

- Mommy gives me little letters to write each day

on something or other, then I write them in Italian,

and Mommy corrects them.

- But I am afraid I have just about exhausted my ideas.

Ah, perhaps you could suggest a theme, Mr. Pillson.

- Yes, Mrs. Lucas is out of bed, sir,

but it has left her very weak.

No appetite.

- Will you tell her how sorry my wife and I are.

Also, my sister, the Countess Faraglione,

so hoped to meet her.

- Yes sir, of course.

(birds chirping)

(bright orchestra music)

- Mrs. Brocklebank.

Good morning to you.

(speaking in Italian)

And of course, Maria,

(speaking in Italian)

Do please sit down.

Now, Maria, I have invented a letter for you

which is written to, say, an Italian countess

whom you have never seen before,

saying how very sorry you are to be forced to give up

her musical party because you've caught influenza.

- Perfetto.

- Yes.

- Perfetto.

(speaking in Italian)

- Thank you.

- Oh, thank you.

- Yes.

(speaking in Italian)

- Now, do you think you're going

to be able to manage that?

- Well, I'll try.

Anyhow, mommy will correct it.

- Oh, of course she will.

There we are, I've written it out in English.

- Thank you.

- Now, if you'll forgive me, I must dash,

or I shall miss the channel steamer coming in.

That would never do, would it?

Now, do you think you could let me

have a fair copy of it?

Because I adore Italian, though of course,

I don't understand a word of it myself.

- But of course, of course, Mr. Pillson.

Oh, and thank you again.

- Not at all.

Well, arrivederci, then.

- Arrivederci, Mr. Pillson.

(birds chirping)

- Morning, Mapp.

- Any news?

- About Lucia, I presume?

Why not leave well enough alone?

- Because there's a mystery there somewhere.

Just look at the coincidences.

The Contessa arrives, Georgie leaves,

and Lucia has influenza.

- Oh, go and cool your savage breast with unholy sketching,

something new, for heaven's sake, and I'll see you later

at the Wyses', plus the Contessa.

-[Georgie] So, I enclose a suitable letter

in genuine Italian, which you can copy in your own hand

and have delivered to the Contessa.

Aren't I clever?

PS, Cadman and Foljambe have had a row,

but I'm afraid they've made it up.

- Thank you, Grosvenor.

Will you bring me a sheet or two of writing paper, please?

- Certainly, Madam.

(birds chirping)

- Grosvenor, I want you to deliver this by hand

at the Wyses' house when they are all having lunch.

- Certainly, Madam.

- As you see, it is addressed to the Contessa di Faraglione.

I want you to make sure that she receives it in person.

- I understand, Madam.

(sighing)

(birds chirping)

(jump rope whooshing)

(panting)

(screaming)

- Now I've got her, now I've got her.

- Of course my husband, the Count,

insists that I speak Italian in Italy,

and I insist that he speaks English and England.

(laughing)

Tell me, Susan, what is that

delicious looking dish over there?

- Oh, it's just a little recipe of my own.

- No doubt, but what is it?

- I call it Eggs a la Capri, in your honor, Amelia.

- Oh, thank you.

Though I was never very partial to Capri.

However,

may I ask for whom we are waiting?

- For Elizabeth Mapp.

It's unlike her to be so late.

- And she doesn't have influenza.

- Well, not as far as I know.

Maybe, perhaps, we should start.

- No, not on my account.

In Italy, we keep different hours.

I always remember when I first married the Count,

I used to feel half starved by 9:30 at night.

- Hear, hear.

Eat when you're hungry and when you get the chance,

I think the Duke of Wellington said that.

- Oh, he was talking about something quite different.

- What do you think, Algernon?

Should we commence the golation?

Oh, Elizabeth, there you are.

- Ecco, at last.

- You will never guess.

- I don't think you've met my sister,

the Contessa di Faraglione.

- No, but I've heard so much about you.

- How kind.

Now do we start, brother?

- Please, everybody help themselves.

AL fresco, al fresco.

(plates rattling)

- I'll give you three guesses.

- Hello, Grosvenor.

News of the invalid?

- I really couldn't say, Madam.

It's for the Contessa.

- Sitting down over there.

Talks a lot.

- Yes, Grosvenor?

- For the Contessa, Madam.

For you, Mum.

From Mrs. Lucas.

- Really?

Thank you.

- Surely.

- Thank you, Grosvenor, so much.

(paper tearing)

- Now, three guesses what I've just seen.

It's about someone we all know.

- Oh come on, Mapp, we don't have to guess who it is.

- I saw her from the church tower.

It was, Lucia, yes, in my secret garden,

but what was she wearing?

- Is it of interest, Mistress Mapp?

- For an invalid, I would say so, yes.

A bathing costume.

And what was she doing?

- Bathing.

(chuckling)

- No.

Skipping.

And physical jerks, fancy, with influenza.

- Good.

It means she's getting better.

- I shall go and see her this afternoon.

- Oh is that wise?

She might not be free from infection.

- But your point is that she's never had influenza at all.

- Ecco.

I mean, listen.

- What is it, Amelia?

- It's from Mrs. Lucas, apologizing that she can't meet me.

- But that's only polite, Amelia.

- But it's in Italian.

- It's not.

- No?

Well, of course, I don't know her handwriting?

Is that her hand?

- Very much like it.

- Of course it is.

- But not only in Italian, in perfect Italian.

My dear Algernon, what an escape.

She would have thought how poorly

I speak the language compared to herself.

(chuckling)

- Must admit, it's very strange.

- If I were you, I'd hold my tongue, much wiser.

- What?

- You got hold of a false scent.

One of your worst shots.

Give it up.

- But skipping, 'Diva, there's something very queer.

- If there is, you're not clever

enough to find out what it is.

Give it up, that's my advice.

Take it or leave it.

Get on with your marrow and ginger.

It looks disgusting.

Au reservoir.

(screaming)

(bright piano music)

- Oh, for Heaven's sake.

(doorbell ringing)

(spitting)

(doorbell ringing)

News from the front.

- Good afternoon, Miss Coles.

Mrs. Lucas.

- Oh give over, Mrs. Lucas is this, that, or the other.

Absolute drivel.

- I have my orders, Miss.

- Not anymore, dear slave.

(bright piano music)

Angel.

You should have been there.

But of course you couldn't, could you?

(piano chord)

She'd seen you, did you know that?

No, I bet you didn't.

Mapp, from the top of the church tower.

Skipping.

She went up there to sketch, and saw you.

The only place that overlooks the secret garden.

Skipping, and physical jerking.

(piano scale)

And just when it seemed Mapp had you in her strangle hold,

the famous Contessa is handed your note,

(piano chord)

in perfect Italian.

Gasps galore.

You do speak Italian after all.

(piano scale)

Mapp was as white as a sheet.

Foiled again.

(giggling)

- Poor thing.

Sometimes, I think she is a trifle mad.

(speaking in Italian)

- Could be.

- When is the Contessa leaving?

Do you know?

- Tomorrow morning, I think she said.

- Then I shall still miss her.

After my illness, I must catch up on my calisthenics.

They are my life.

- Perhaps Mapp should take them up.

(laughing)

- I'm sure.

It's only her bitterness that makes her wretched.

Women who do everything they can to hurt others

are very often oversensitive themselves.

- What a joy you are.

And what a tragedy you're leaving us so soon.

- Irene, can you keep a secret?

- Not as a rule, no.

- Because I really should tell Georgie first,

but he's not back from Folkston 'til tomorrow.

- Then I'll keep a secret, honest injun.

- I'm not going back to Risum.

- Not?

- I've sold my house there to

an elderly Colonel and his wife.

- But where will you go?

- I've fallen in love.

With Tilling.

I'm going to settle here for good.

- Angel.

- I need to look about for a house that might suit me.

In fact, I'm just off to Woolgar and Pipstow's now

to see what's on their books.

- Oh, do let me come with you.

(speaking in Italian)

- Come along.

- Well, Mrs. Lucas, as a valued client,

may I as personage, we will naturally

do everything we can to accommodate you.

- How kind.

- Oh, come off it, Woolgar, or is it Pipstow?

- Woolgar.

- What have you got for sale in Tilling

which would accommodate Mrs. Lucas?

- In Tilling proper, very little.

- What about Tilling improper?

(giggling)

- Now Irene, do heel, old dear.

- Well, we do have a very attractive property

out on the marshes, about a mile away.

- Greeb.

You mean Greeb, don't you?

Is it for sale?

Oh lucky Lucia, it's just absolutely built for you.

No, built with you in mind.

- An order to view, then?

- Anytime.

- Now.

(table thudding)

- Now?

- Now.

Unfortunately, my own car won't be back until tomorrow.

I've lent it to Mr. Pillson for a week at Folkston.

- How like you, Angel, always so unselfish.

- Then you will allow me to drive you out.

Not a Rolls Royce, I'm afraid.

- I think I can safely say that I am not a snob.

- No, indeed Madam.

- What make is it?

- A humble Austin.

Windsor Saloon.

- Oh.

Then shall we go?

- Once more onto the beach, dear friends.

Greeb and Lucia for England.

(bright orchestra music)