Original subtitles

The days of childhood are over, Johnny.

You must grow up and face the truth.

There are spots on the sun, you know.

And sometimes a hero turns out to have feet of clay.

Hello.

Burdon said you were looking for me.

I thought we might go for a walk before lunch.

Unless you'd rather not.

If you like.

Will you excuse us, John?

Of course. I'll take the gun back for you.

Thank you.

Take yourself back.

Have a nap before lunch.

Bye, John.

Hi, hog, wake up! Wake up!

Latest edition.

Beau's gone, left this letter.

Beau's vanished.

Disappeared.

He's done a bunk.

My dear Dig,

by the time you read this I shall be well on my way to where I'm going.

Will you please tell Aunt

that there's no further need to chivvy any of you about the Blue Water.

If the police come,

tell them you knew I was in sore straights

(or is it crookeds?) for money.

But this is my first offense

and I must have been led astray by bad companions

(you and John, of course).

Give my love to John,

tell him to keep out of trouble.

If I send you an address later

it will be in absolute confidence

relying on your utterly refusing to give it to anybody for any reason whatsoever.

I do hope things will settle down quickly now that the criminal's known.

Sad, sad, sad.

Give my love to Claudia.

Ever thine, Michael.

It can't be true. It's impossible. Of course it is, fat-head.

He's just taking the blame, shielding his little brother.

Oh, it's you. No.

Me? Quite the little mathematician.

I didn't do it. Nor did I.

Oh, I think I'm going potty. I've gone.

Where are you going?

Take a look in Beau's room, maybe he left a clue.

Dig.

Do you really think Beau suspects you or me?

Not really. He must know we didn't do it.

Gussie then? Wouldn't have the nerve.

Claudia? No.

Isobel. Of course, not.

Who then?

Well if Beau didn't do it, all he knows is that one of us did.

Did you speak to Aunt Patricia?

No, she's keeping to her room.

Claudia.

Are you afraid she suspects you?

Why should she?

No reason.

Then why say it?

You seem a little on edge.

Has Beau been in here? No.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen Beau since lunch.

My dear John,

after much mental wrestling in which I lost a trouser button,

I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer deceive you all,

and let the innocent suffer for my guilty sin.

No one knows the shame I feel, not even me.

Michael's noble and beautiful action in taking the blame for me has wrung my heart.

What he should have done was wring my neck.

When you find yourself in a witness box,

tell the beak that you have always known me to be weak but not vicious

and that my downfall has been due to

drinking rough cider and going in for newspaper competitions.

Don't forget to play up and make people realize that I am the thief

or suspicion will still rest on the poor girls.

Digby!

Bad form I call it.

Two of them going off like this,

after what Aunt said about sticking to the house.

Shocking bad form.

You are an authority on good form, of course.

You ask me, they didn't relish the prospect of being visited by the police.

Ah, John, you're still with us.

Just shut up, Gussy.

Or you won't be for much longer.

Where has Beau gone? And Digby?

I don't know. Really and truly?

Claudia. I honestly haven't the faintest idea.

I wish they'd come back.

Oh, I can't bear with this.

Johnny? Hmm?

Johnny, do you mind if I ask you a question.

It's a silly one and I already know the answer but I just want to hear you say it.

Ask away.

You won't be angry with me?

Have I ever been angry with you?

Could I be?

Did you take the Blue Water?

No, I didn't.

Oh, Johnny.

Isobel. Oh, Johnny, Johnny.

What is it?

Can't you see? I love you.

What about Digby?

Of course I'm fond of Digby but I love you.

You're my life.

I've loved everything you've said or done since I was a baby.

Anyway now you've told me you didn't take it, I know you didn't.

What makes you think I took it?

I didn't think so really, but,

when I saw you going downstairs… You saw me.

I woke in the night and I heard something. I came and looked over the banister.

I was going to see if the wretched thing had come back.

Oh, I have been so miserable.

Still, I don't care now.

Nothing on earth matters as long as you love me.

You do love me, don't you, John?

Of course, I love you, I've always loved you.

And I always shall.

Are you sure?

Are you really sure?

Nothing can ever change my love for you. You must never forget that.

Don't doubt it for a single moment.

No matter what happens to me

or where I may be.

So now John's absconded as well?

Don't understand Aunt's delay in calling in the police.

If she'd done it right away the rotters would be behind bars now.

Oh I really have heard quite enough.

Would you please mind shutting up?

I always knew those three would come to a bad end.

Oh, stop it, Gussy. You really are a pain in the neck.

I'm not surprised you're annoyed, Claudia.

Your blue-eyed Michael has turned out to be not quite so beau after all.

Common thief, in fact. Your precious Gestes are all thieves.

That isn't true.

Poor Claudia, you've been let down very badly, haven't you?

There's no fear of you letting anyone down.

Nobody expects anything from you.

Perhaps, if you gave your whole life to it,

you might possibly one day be fit to clean Beau's boots

or John's or Digby's.

He's right about one thing though.

I have been let down.

You can't say that.

We don't know why they've gone away.

I do. Michael stole the Blue Water.

He told you?

No, he didn't, but he took it all the same.

He wouldn't have gone away for any other treason.

I suppose I should be glad I learned the truth about him before it was too late.

I thought you loved Beau.

Haven't you any faith in him?

There is one consolation.

Aunt may not feel like calling the police in,

but Uncle Hector will as soon as he arrives.

They won't get far once Scotland Yard's on their tails.

Wonder where they have gone?

What is your business?

I wish to join the Foreign Legion.

Eh bien, doubtless Monsieur will have much innocent amusement

at the expense of the Sergeant-Major there too, hmm?

Monsieur is only a Sergeant-Major?

Yes. I am a Sergeant-Major.

And let me tell you: It is the most important rank in the French army.

You will wait over there.

Idiot.

Buongiorno.

Hello.

Oh, you're English?

Yes.

Francesco Boldini.

John Smith.

An English Smith.

You are not the first of the family to join the Legion.

Are you joining the Legion? Rejoining.

You must know a lot about it.

There is nothing about the Legion I do not know, Monsieur.

Suppose a friend of mine joined a day or two ago.

Where would it be now do you think?

Oran now, Sidi-bel-Abbes or Saide tomorrow or the day after.

Thank you. Buon, happy to help.

This…this friend of yours, is he… Friends.

There are two of them as a matter of fact.

Oh, three English swells joining the Legion at the same time.

That doesn't happen every day, Monsieur. Monsieur. Boldini.

In there, remove all clothing, put on the gown and wait.

Yes, Chef.

Here, Monsieur, the Colonel will see you. This way.

So, you too wish to enlist in our Foreign Legion, do you?

Yes.

Has England started an export trade of the best of her young men?

I don't see many Englishmen from from one year's end to the next,

but you are the third this week!

Were the other two anything like me, sir?

There is a resemblance I believe.

You are related?

But I will ask no indiscreet questions.

So you wish to become a soldier of France?

If France will have me, mon Colonel?

You understand what you are doing?

Yes, I think so.

The life is a very hard one.

I would urge no one to adopt it unless you are born soldier

and desirous of a life of discipline,

adventure, and hardship.

I would still like to join, sir.

I've heard something of life in the Sahara from an officer in the Spahis.

But you will not be an officer of the Spahis,

nor of the Legion either.

Except after long years in the ranks and as a non-commissioned officer.

One realizes must start at the bottom, sir.

Very well.

The engagement volontaire for the Foreign Legion is for five years' service

in Algiers or any other French colony.

And the pay is one sou a day.

A legionnaire can reenlist at the end of five years

and again at the end of 10 years.

He is eligible for a pension varying according to his rank.

The foreigner, on conclusion of five-years' service,

can claim to be naturalized as a French subject.

You understand all that?

Yes, thank you, mon Colonel.

Mind, I say nothing of the number of men who survive to claim the pension.

I'm not thinking of the pension, sir.

Just the military experience.

Ah, there is... plenty of that.

Le Legion is a real ecole militaire

and one that offers a good soldier considerable opportunities for

distinction, glory, decoration.

Then please accept me as a recruit, sir.

We will see first what the doctor has to say about you.

But there is little doubt about that I should think.

What is your name? John Smith.

Age? 21 years.

Nationality? English?

Yes.

Very well, if you pass the doctor, I shall see you again.

Monsieur.

The doctor awaits you, monsieur.

You all right? Fighting fit, sir.

You have the paper?

Fit for service, Chef.

Trouble again, Boldini?

To you the Legion is just a hideout,

somewhere the police can't get at you. Hmm?

That is not true, Chef.

Just keep your nose clean when you wear the uniform of France,

hurry up and get dressed. Yes, Chef.

Well, you are accepted.

Can I enlist at once, sir?

I think perhaps you should go away and sleep on it.

Come back tomorrow, and if you are still of the same mind I will enroll you.

Already given it very deep thought, sir and my mind is quite definitely made up.

You realize this is a very serious step you take?

Yes, I do, sir.

Until you sign your name on the enlistment form

you're absolutely free and have committed yourself in no way whatsoever.

Consider that.

I would prefer to enlist now, mon Colonel.

Very well.

Read this form carefully and then sign it.

You may sit. Thank you.

Bear in mind,

as soon as you have signed that form,

you are a soldier of France, under martial law,

without any appeal whatever.

Your friends cannot buy you out,

your Consul cannot help you for five years.

Nothing but death can release you from the Legion.

A little error.

Or do you prefer this nom de guerre, Geste?

No, sir, I've changed my mind. I'll use my own name,

Smith.

Very well, John Smith.

You are now a duly enlisted soldier of France.

You will report to Fort Saint-Jean in Marseille.

The Sergeant-Major will give you your travel orders.

Thank you, mon Colonel.

Is there anything further I can tell you?

Do you always advise applicants to think better of it, sir?

It is not for me to deter people from joining the Foreign Legion.

But some strike me as better suited to the life than others.

I wish you quick promotion. Au revoir, mon enfant.

Thank you.

And good luck.

Quickly. Move to the left. Left turn.

Quick march, left wheel.

Pardon, Monsieur.

Recruit for the Legion. Poor devil.

Welcome to Marseille. Oh, Boldini.

What happened to you, then, you're late! I got lost.

Oh! We're in block C. Come. I know this place,

I'll take you there.

Where are we kitted out? What?

Uniform, rifle, when do we get them?

Oh, in Algeria, where you're to recruit-train.

I will do it also, of course, but I know it already.

We must stick together, you and I,

and we're, I think, birds of a feather, no?

Sorry, I don't understand.

Listen, my young English friend.

For you, this life is new and strange.

But not for me. I know all the ropes,

can put you up to everything.

Get you in right with the corporals.

Trust me, friend.

I, Boldini, will be your guardian angel.

What I know and who I know

can be of great help to you, my friend.

But a man has to live.

I get your meaning, Boldini.

Good. We understand each other. Come.