All language subtitles for Beauty.and.the.Beast.1987.S01E05.Masques.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-squalor_Track03

Vincent:
This is where the wealthy
and the powerful rule.

It is her world,
a world apart from mine.

Her name...Is Catherine.

From the moment I saw her,
she captured my heart...

With her beauty,

her warmth and her courage.

I knew then, as I know now,

she would change my life...
Forever.

Catherine:
He comes from a secret place,
far below the city streets.

Hiding his face from strangers,
safe from hate and harm.

He brought me there
to save my life.

And now, wherever I g,

he is with me in spirit.

For we have a bond stronger
than friendship or love.

And although
we cannot be together,

we will never, ever be apart.

♪ ♪

(Shower running,
doorbell rings)

Catherine:
I'm coming!

Kid:
Trick or treat!

Trick or treat!
Trick or treat!

(Kids giggling)

Trick or treat!

Trick or treat.

Don't you all look just great.

Happy Halloween.

Thank you.
Thank you!
Thanks.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Dad. Hi.

Am I early, are you late,
or is that your costume?

Oh, I'm late.
I'm sorry, dad.

I lost track of time
at the office.

Well, you never use
to lose track of time

when you worked for me.
Oh, sure I did.

Every morning.

If you could just hold the
trick-or-treaters at bay,

I'm sure I can get dressed in
time to arrive fashionably late.

Likely story.

I figure
about an hour and a half.

Oh, that was the old Cathy.

I'll be ready in 15 minutes.

Father:
And from that day forward,

John always kept a light
burning in his window by night,

so that Deirdre might
find her way back to him.

And in the deepest
part of winter,

when the snows lay thick

against the walls
of his cottage

and the cold wind came
shrieking from the north,

John would take
down his bow

and he would walk through
the forest, calling her name,

until his voice was hoarse

and the tears froze
hard on his face.

But she never answered.

And, until his dying day,

John never saw her again.

Child:
Oh! That was so sad.

Child 2:
Yeah.
Child 3:
Great story.

That was a good one.

Tell US another one, father.

The one about
the headless horseman.

Yeah, tell US that one.
Oh, my favorite.

Yes, please.

You had enough ghosts
for one night.
Please.

Now, go on.
Please.
Come on.

Mary wants some help to carve up
more Jack-o-lanterns.

Oh, yeah!
That'll be fun.

I have a great idea.
I get to use the knife.

Girl:
No, I asked for it.

Every year, they ask
for the same stories.

By now, they must know them
better than you do.

(Chuckles)

Well, you know, old stories
are rather like old friends.

Every so often, you have
to drop in on them again,

just to see how
they're doing.

And anyway, I can remember
a certain young boy

who would never let a
mere Jack-o-lantern

deny him a visit
to ichabod crane.

(Chuckles)

You're still determined
to go, are you?

I wish you'd reconsider.

Father, surely on
this night of all nights,

I can walk among them
in safety.

Safety, Vincent?

There is no safety up there.

For you or anyone else.

Well...

Sometimes, we must leave
our safe places, father,

and walk empty-handed
among our enemies.

Those are brigit
O'Donnell's words.

Those are true words.

Words that have
opened doors for me,

let some light in
on the dark places.

You know what she's meant to me.

I do.

And I also know

there's a danger of confusing
the magic with the magician.

Sometimes the person is smaller
than the work.

Weaker, more frightened,
more human.

And I don't want to see
you hurt, disappointed.

She will not
disappoint me.

Our lives are very different,

and yet, I'm sure we'll
understand each other.

I will not lose
this opportunity.

I must see her,
talk to her.

Well, go on, then,
if you're set on it.

Obviously, there's nothing
I can do to stop you.

Vincent...

Be careful.

(Kisses)

Don't worry.

Whoa. Well, hardly
15 minutes...

But well worth
waiting for.

Isn't it wonderful.

Oh, you don't know
how happy I am

that you let me
talk you into this.

Since you left the firm, I
hardly ever get to see you.

Well, they keep
me pretty busy.

But I've missed you too.

Now, don't be shy about
leaving me to fend for myself.

I'm not so old
that I don't remember

how romantic
these affairs can be.

A lot of your old friends are
going to be there tonight.

Well, I'm going to this party
to be with you.

You're going to this party
to meet brigit O'Donnell,

just like everybody else.

That too.

Have I told you
how beautiful you look?

Sometimes you remind me
so much of your mother.

I miss her too.

Well, someday, you'll find
someone you can love

as much as I loved
your mother.

We were two of the lucky ones.

I have my memories...

And I have you.

You sure do.

Sorry, I'm closed.

Now, listen, I must
have a costume.

And if it's money you
want, I've got it.

Come on.
You come

back, you can have your pick.

Jesse James, Darth Vader,
king Arthur, whatever you want.

But closing time
on Halloween night?

All right.

All right, I'll see what
there is in the back.

You don't mind maybe a little
frayed, a button missing?

It doesn't matter;
Just hurry up.

Here, maybe this will fit.

Now, what the hell's this?

Are you having a bit of fun
with me, or something?

Is that your game?

Now get that damnable rag
out of my sight

and find something decent.

Here...here...

It's too big?

Well, there's
nothing else.

If that doesn't suit you, then
take your business elsewhere.

This will do rightly.

The changing booth is there.

(Playing mellow jazz)

(People laughing)

(Speaks indistinctly)

Butler:
Good evening, sir.

Matador:
Buenas noche.

Good evening.

Good evening.
Good evening.
Hi.

Champagne, madame?

Sir?

Brennan:
Charles, is that you?

Hi.

Surely not Cathy.

Hi, Mr. Brennan.

Marie:
Cathy!

Catherine:
Marie?

You look wonderful.

You do, too.

Hi, Jeff.

Hi, cath.

Did you meet brigit yet?

No, I just arrived.

Jeff:
She's a remarkable woman.

Jeff's taken a tremendous
interest in her cause.

(Laughing):
I can imagine.

Uh, did you hear?

She sold that book
300 days to hollywoo.

It's Romeo and Juliet
with Irish accents.

Oh, come on now,
that's a terrific story.

Brennan:
Cathy.

I was going to introduce
your father to brigit.

Care to come along?

I'd love to.

Man:
It's a great party.

Woman:
Oh, what fun.

(Band finishes song,
guests applaud)

(Irish accent):
Hold up there.

Let's have a look here.

I'm terribly
sorry, Charles.

Mr. Cavanaugh here is one
of brigit's bodyguards.

No offense, sir, but
there have been threats.

Orangemen, croppies.

Croppies, did he say?

I'm afraid
I don't understand.

Brigit (irish accent):
No reason you should.

It's from an old war.

An Irish catholic uprising

against the British
and their protestant allies.

The rebels
had short-cropped hair, you see.

That was, what,
200 years ago?

(Chuckling):
That's a long time
to remember a haircut.

We Irish have long memories.

My father taught me
all the songs

about the brave croppy boys
when I was still in the cradle.

I stand instructed.

I'm afraid history
was never my subject,

and most of what I did learn,
I managed to forget.

Forgetting is a trick
ulster could stand to learn.

Charles, there's
Samantha.

She'll never forgive me

if I don't take you over
to say hello.

Duty beckons.

I like your mask.

(Laughs)

I wrote a story

about an owl-woman once-- just
a little fable for children.

Well, children
of all ages.

I read it just last year,
and I loved it.

Did you now?

Well, it's not easy
to find, that one.

It was given to me
by a friend,

a very special friend.

(Sighing):
You have a real gift.

I only wish you wrote
more children's stories.

I wish I could,

but there are darker things
than ghosts in Ireland now,

and you can't hear the
fairy music for the gunfire.

I love the work.

For the first time
in my life, I feel...

Catherine, what's wrong?

Nothing,

I just... thought
I saw someone I know.

Would you excuse me?

Vincent.

(Band strikes up
lively jazz melody)

(Whispering):
Vincent.

(Jazz playing,
subway train passing)

(Urgent whisper):
Vincent.

(Cork pops)

♪ ♪

Caviar, sir?

Caviar.

It's beluga, sir.

From Russia...?

♪ ♪

(Music ends,
guests applaud)

What is it, brigit?

Is it trouble?

Oh, no, Thomas.

It's all right.

Go on with you, now.

It's a party.

Not every man who
is looking at me

is wanting to lay
me in my grave.

Brigit O'Donnell.

Herself.
I...

Didn't mean to interrupt
your dancing.

An act of mercy.

Thomas is a good friend
and a brave man,

but a dancer he's not.

Extraordinary.

You look as though you might
have ridden with cúchulainn,

or sailed with theseus.

Only in my dreams.

And, sometimes, in
books like yours.

Your writing has helped
me through dark times.

You've touched me...

Made me think.

I just wanted...

To tell you.

To thank you.

Come.

Thank me outside.

Masks make life
so interesting.

Under all those feathers,
you could be anyone.

A childhood friend,
an old lover...

Come on now, help me
out, am I getting warm?

I'm afraid not.

A famous writer, then?

You're getting colder.
I tripped over

my own sword again, is it?

The Butler's the real pirate,
I... I slipped him a ten-spot

to tell me what
the guest of honor was wearing.

Well, I don't think you'll be
getting a refund.

Brigit is also wearing
an owl mask.

Consider it money
well spent.

I'm Donald Pratt.

Catherine Chandler.

Well, Catherine Chandler,
shall I run up the jolly Roger

and steal you away
for this dance?

Why not?

Brigit:
The night has a
special magic to it,

don't you think?

This night especially.

Halloween.

In the old religion,
they called it samhain.

It's the night

when the walls 'tween
the worlds grow thin,

and spirits of the underworld
walk the earth.

A night of masks
and balefires,

when anything is possible and
nothing is quite as it seems.

Your city has its
own magic, as well.

(Traffic passing,
horns honking)

The lights, towers...

Listen to it.

In derry, the night has
a darker music.

(Siren wailing in distance)

Bombs... gunfire...

...the screams of dying men.

Yet you always return.

Oh, I've thought of leaving.

But derry's my home

and whatever else I might be,

I'm still a bogside girl,
and me father's daughter,

and me husband
Ian's widow.

When you wrote of Ian
in 300 days...

...i almost felt
as though I knew him.

You made him live again,
with your words.

It's been two years since
he got into that car,

and not an hour has passed
that I haven't spoken of him,

written of him, thought of him.

I don't want to waken
painful memories.

No, it hurts,

it hurts...

...but it's such a sweet pain.

Ian and I were born
six streets apart

and yet, in different worlds.

A stiff-necked orangeman and
a croppy girl from bogside,

we were.

Daft enough to fall in love,
but not so big a pair of fools

that we thought he could live
in my world, or me in his.

So we tried to create
a new world

that we could share together.

Well, you know how that ended.

It could've been me,
you know.

There are times...

...i wish it had been.

(Lively jazz playing,
people laughing)

Your invitation, sir.

Invitation?!

I have it here somewhere.

Damn, you know, I think I
must've lost it somewhere.

But I did have one, I swear.

I'm afraid I can't admit you
without an invitation, sir.

I just told you I
was invited here.

Are you calling
me a liar now?

Mr. Brennan's instructions
were quite firm.

Uh, perhaps
I should summon him.
Uh...

Michael:
No, no, no, uh...

I just remembered
where I left it.

The very place.

I'll, uh, go and get it
and then I'll be back.

Butler:
Very good, sir.
Henry xiii:
Let's go, ladies.

Come on.

Good evening.

Henry xiii:
Come on.

All right. Thanks.

(Jazz playing)

I can't be that bad
of a dancer.

Oh, I'm sorry. I...

I'm just not very good
company at the moment.

I'll be the judge of that.

He's a lucky rogue.

Who?

Whoever the hell
you're looking for.

Charles (southern accent):
Don't I know you from somewhere?

Having a good time
tonight?

Who could this be?

I'm sorry, uh,

Donald... Pratt?
Mm.

This is my father,
Charles Chandler.

Donald Pratt? Not...

Not the Donald Pratt of bender,
sachs, and Pratt, surely.

Actually, yes.

Charles:
I never dreamed
you were so young.

Al prasker, one of my partners,
is still nursing his wounds

over the licking you gave him

over the Scott case.

Oh, Catherine,
be careful of this one.

He's not as harmless
as he seems.

How do you two
happen to know each other?

Well, actually
we don't but, uh,

I am trying to rectify that.

Brigit:
Father used to tell me
of New York

when I was just
a little girl.

He came here
a dozen times.

Never quite legally,
of course.

Raising money
for the cause,

collecting for the
widows and the orphans,

and the weapons...

To make more of them.

He always promised

that one day, he'd take me
across the ocean with him.

One day.

He never did?

My father cast me out.

It was three years ago.

My wedding day.

He came to the church...

Called me a traitor...

And an orangeman's whore.

Then I've not
seen him since.

By rights, I ought
to hate him.

You have no hate in you...
Only grief.

Aye.

How can you hate the man who
taught you what love meant?

You cold?

Cold? No.

Why, it's naught
but a brisk fall evening.

But I'd borrow your cloak,
if you're willing to lend it.

My cloak?

Thomas and the others,

they'd give their lives for me,
and I love them for it.

But sometimes, I want nothing
more than to just get away

from them for
a few hours.

They're only trying
to keep you safe.

Oh! I'm sick unto
death of safety.

Oh, I look at
the city and...

I want to touch it.

To walk its streets,

meet its people and
listen to its music.

I want to see all the things
my father told me of

and I can't.

Can you imagine
how that feels?

Yes.

To hell with the risks.

Sometimes we must leave
our safe places, Vincent,

and walk empty-handed
among our enemies.

(Music ends,
guests applaud)

(Band strikes up
jaunty new song)

Excuse me.

(Chuckling):
Hey, wait...

Wait!

Oh, brigit O'Donnell, right?

Something very strange
is going on,

and I'm going
to find out what.

C-Could you hold that
for me, for just a minute?

Look, Donald, I'm very sorry.

I don't mean to be rude,
but this is very...

Damn it!

Oh, no, whoa, whoa!
There's no problem.

We pirates, uh...

We, we can find stairs.

Come on.

(Siren wailing, horns honking)

Doorman:
Evening.

Hello.

Are you ready?
(Gasps)

Have you seen a woman
with red hair and a black cloak?

Oh, yeah, sure.

Looker like that, I'd have
to be dead not to notice.

She met a guy
in a cat mask.

Where did they go?

Off into the park,

uh, north, I think.

I have to go after them.

Look, it's a personal thing;
I appreciate your help,

but there's no need
for you to leave the party.

I'm not complaining, but
I can't let you go off
into the park all alone.

No, really...
Hasn't anybody
ever warned you

about things that go
bump in the night?

Donald, I...

While we're talking,
they're getting away.

I'm beholden to you,
Vincent.

You cannot know
what this means to me.

Or perhaps you can,
at that.

Will you be telling me
of her, then?

Of who?

Your lady.

The one who's breaking
your heart.

Ah, you didn't
come to me

just to say
you liked me books.

Something about Ian and me
struck close to home.

She brings me...

Such joy...

And such pain...

As I have never known.

I have no place
in her world,

she has none in mine.

Our bond endangers
everything.

People I love, secrets
I am sworn to keep,

beliefs I've lived by.

Aye, that sounds like
Ian and me, sure enough.

They don't understand,
do they?

Father raged.

Yet you went on,
despite everything.

Oh, yes, we went on
until he died for it.

Are you asking me
for counsel, then?

Forget you ever knew her
and you'll both be happier.

You wrote that the price
of your love had been high,

but that you would
pay it willingly,

until the end of your days,

that you would change
nothing, regret nothing.

That's damned unfair
of you, you know,

quoting me own words
back at me again,

after I gave you
all that good advice.

The brain tells you all
the sensible things to do,

but the heart knows
nothing about sense,

and the heart is
as stubborn as the Irish.

What is it?

(Roaring)

(Grunts)

(Vincent snarling)

What the hell?!

Catherine:
Is he...

He's out cold,
but he'll live.

It's just maybe
a concussion.

Well, brigit O'Donnell,
I presume.

What happened
to the other guy?

He had promises to keep,

but I'm thinking
he'd rather have stayed.

Brigit, what happened here?

Are you all right?

I'm fine, but it's not for
the want of this man... trying.

What?

Do you know him?

Him and his sort,
I've known all my life.

Michael McPhee
is his name.

He's one of the boys.

A good ira man.

Catherine:
As long as you're
all right.

I guess we better
call the police.

No need.

Actually, I think
I can handle it

from here, thank you.

You?!
Yes.

I'm afraid I haven't been
quite honest with you, Cathy.

Interpol...

I thought your father
was going to blow my cover

for a while there,
back at the party.

All that lawyer talk.

My apologies, Mrs. O'Donnell.

We received a tip

that an attempt would
be made on your life.

I was supposed to
stay close by you,

but, unfortunately...

I just got hooked up
with the wrong owl.

Perfectly
all right.

All owls look alike by night.

Evidence.

Have to be thorough.

We'll drop you off
back at the party.

No reason why everyone's
Halloween should be ruined.

Oh, no.

I'll see it through.

As long as the masks
are coming off,

I'm with the district
attorney's office.

Are you?

Well, this is a night
for surprises.

If you'll keep an eye
on sleeping beauty here,

I'll go bring
my car around.

(Subway train passing
in distance)

Vincent:
Father.

Lana told me you'd returned.

(Rhythmic clanking
echoes from distance)

Am I, uh, disturbing you?

No.

Well, did you
find brigit?

Yes... and so did a man
with a gun.

She's given so much and
gotten only violence...

And grief and pain.

How can they hate so?

Sometimes, during my first
few years in the tunnels,

I would lie awake at
night, wondering...

...if what i'd
done was right.

I was... full
of such anger.

I wanted to avenge all
the wrongs I'd suffered.

And yet you never
went back up.

No.

If I had, I think my anger
would've consumed me.

(Michael groaning)

He's coming to.

(Michael gasps)

Where... oh!

Oh, my head hurts
something fierce.

You ought to be grateful
it's still attached

to your shoulders,
Michael McPhee.

Don't take that tone
with me, woman.

You know
I wouldn't harm you.

Damn it all, it was Sean
himself who sent me.

(Scoffs)

And am I supposed to care?

He made it quite clear
he does not have a daughter.

He's dying, girl.

Michael:
There's not much
time left to him.

He wants to
see you again.

He sent me to you.

Aye, that he did...
With a gun in your hand.

My own flesh and blood.

What did I ever do
to make him hate me so?

Michael:
You've got it
all wrong, girl.

It wasn't you
I was after.

It was that fellow
that was with you.

The fellow in the black hood
and lion head.

What?! Vincent?!

He was a friend.

Michael:
A murdering orangeman's
what he was.

We had the word, girl.

It's Sean they're after,

and they don't have a lot
of love for you, either.

I was to keep you safe

and bring you secretly
to your father.

Wait a minute,
we're supposed to
be headed downtown.

This isn't...
(Tires screeching)

The best thing about croppies,

they're as stupid
as they are ugly.

What's wrong?

Catherine.

Don't do it, Donald.

Put down the gun.

Don't let this
get out of hand.

Do you remember William harland?

A lying, murdering,
orange bastard he was.

Donald:
You and your lads,

you didn't even have
the courage to face him

when you gunned him down.

You waited
until he was good and drunk,

and you caught him
leaving the pub.

That's no more than he'd done
for better men than him.

All right, stop
it, both of you.

Donald, you don't
need to do this.

Turn him over
to the police.

He'll pay for
his crime.

Aye, he'll pay for it,
sure enough.

It's no use,
Catherine.

You can't talk
sense to them...

To any of them.

It's like a
sickness now,

and there's not a
drop of human decency

left in the lot of them.

Shut up.

I've heard enough
of your damned pious speeches.

Empty your pockets.

Michael, do as he says.

(Coins rattle)

(Coins, keys clattering)

Hm.

My name is Jamie harland.

William was my brother.

There were three
of them that killed him.

I got the first one a year ago.

Michael McPhee, here.

You're the second.

You might say you're
sort of a bonus.

But it was the other one
I was hoping she'd lead me to.

Your brother is dead.

You won't bring him
back with murder.

(Shouting):
I'm no murderer!

This is an execution!

For ulster and Billy!

No!

No!

(Brigit crying)

Damn you to hell.

We're going for a ride.

You. Drive.

Where are you taking US?

To pay a visit

to a gentleman of
the name Sean O'Reilly.

Who I'm thinking
might just be staying

at a certain hotel.

Ill, too.

Ah, but maybe a visit
from his loving daughter

will cheer him up.

(Coughing weakly)

(Door unlocks)

Michael?

Brigit.

Jamie:
Very touching.

Brings a tear to me eye,
it does.

And who the hell
might you be?

Where's Michael?

Jamie:
Burning in hell,
old man,

where you'll be
joining him soon.

Jamie, look at him.

He's just an old man.

I'm still strong
enough to spit

on the likes of him.

Go on, do your worse.

(Laughs):
I'm dying, anyway.

(Coughs)

Jamie:
Oh, you'll die
soon enough.

But not until you've
seen your daughter

die before you.

No. No.

Never.

Never.

It's me you want, not her.

Sean:
Show mercy.

I'll show her the same mercy
you showed Billy.

(Cocking gun)

(Yells)

(Grunts)

(Gunshot)

Back off, now.

I may be dying,

but at least I'll take one more

murdering orangeman with me

before I go.

Father, no.

I'm sorry girl, but
it's got to be done.

He's no better than his brother.

Murdering scum.

It was his sort
killed your mother.

Yes.

And it was your sort
that killed Ian.

Get out of my way.

It has to stop.

Do as I tell you, girl.

I'm your father.

Are you now?

Well, that's news to me.

Go on, if you're so

bound and determined
to kill him.

What's one more body?

Think what a fine hero
I'll be, once I'm dead.

Go on!

What are you
waiting for?!

I'm nothing to you!

Go on! Shoot!

Jamie:
Come on, brigit,
darling...

...we're leaving this party.

I'll find you again, old man.

(Jamie yells)

(Vincent growls)

Brigit!

(Vincent growls,
Jamie yells)

(Gently):
Brigit.

(Siren wailing)

Party's over.

(Indistinct radio
communication)

Officer:
Easy. In you go.

(Siren wailing)

I can arrange for you

to stay with your father
at the hospital,

if you like.

Brigit... you know that...

That there are warrants
out on the man

and he must be arrested?
Yes.

I've lived with that
since I was six years old.

We won't have much
time together.

Not even 300 days.

But we must take
what we're given.

300 days...
A few months...

Or a single night.

(Car door opens and closes)

Will she...?

She'll be all right.

Good.

Don't leave.

She told me...

That this is a special night.

Samhain.

When the walls...

When the walls between
the worlds grow thin...

...and spirits of the
underworld walk the earth.

Vincent...
We can't waste it.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

I've lived here
all my life...

...and yet, it's as though
I've never seen the city.

Until tonight.

You've seen so much
of the violence

and hatred of my world.

I wanted you to know that
there's beauty, as well.

Oh... I know that.

Ever since the night
I found you, Catherine.

What the...?!

Oh, geez!

You gave me
a real scare.

Hey, man, Halloween
was yesterday.

I must go.

♪ ♪