All language subtitles for mysteries.of.lisbon.2010.limited.720p.bluray.x264-nodlabs

PAULO BRANCO PRESENTS

Special appearances by

Mysteries of Lisbon

A film by

Screenplay by

Based on the homonymous novel by

Director of Photography

Art director

Editors

Production manager

Assistant directors

Sound

Music

Produced by

Directed by

"This story is not my child,
nor my godchild.

"It is not a work of fiction:
it is a diary of suffering... "

There have been rumors of
rioting in Campo Grande...

Stories of deaths and fires!

Riots to protest the arrival
of British troops supporting Don Pedro.

It's not true! I, myself,
went to see, and all was calm,

with no signs of bloodshed,
nor troops.

Trustworthy accounts confirm the chaos
of Don Pedro's troops landing in Minho.

Even more reliable witnesses guarantee
that nothing really happened,

and that the naval fleet was
forced to return to the Azores.

I was fourteen, and I didn't know
who I was at all...

Children! Everyone inside! Lunch!

Sometimes the others would ask me
if I was Father Dinis's son.

I didn't know how to answer them.

They all had surnames.
Four or Eve, and some even more.

I was just Joao.

Unlike the others, I had no holidays,
went on no outings, received no presents-

Do you think you're going to find
your father in some book, Joao?

Because books don't talk
about shoemakers, or thieves...

Or bastards.
And you are a bastard!

The son of a thief or a shoemaker!
If not, then why do they call you Joao?

Just Joao!

You're right. And you can keep
the book, as a gift from me.

You need it more than I do.
Maybe you'll end up learning to read.

I don't know how long passed
between the time I lost consciousness...

and the moment I opened my eyes again.
I thought I had dreamt it all.

It seemed there was someone
in all my fevered visions.

And I wondered for a long time if that
someone was real...

Good morning.

Are you feeling better?

Yes, you're feeling better.

What are you thinking about?

About the boy who
offended my father.

Are you talking about Antonio Santos?

I know his father well.
He's in prison.

A horse thief.

Think about it.

Antonio is a very unhappy boy.

I can't forgive him.

You can't?

Are you sure?

You said I should never lie.

I hate the boy who offended my father.

It's true.

Don't forget what I'm about to tell you:

We must be sincere with God,
and among men, we must be loyal.

Joao struck Antonio,
and he answered in return...

I'll keep this with me.

Now eat.

What's that?

A present a lady friend
brought you tonight.

What lady friend?

A friend of Father Dinis_

Do you recognize?

Is it a horse?

My son...

It is quite late, Countess.
We must go.

Make haste and have courage,
my child.

And rest easy, he is in good hands.

She is my mother, isn't she?

A lady friend.

But you told me...

You shouldn't speak, Joao!
You mustn't speak...

But she...

Remember what the doctor said.

Go on, get some rest.
We'll talk later.

Neither Dona Antonia nor father Dinis
helped to dispel my doubts

regarding that extraordinary visit.

Instead they were evasive and reticent.

Who was the first to study
and observe dynamic physics?

Joao.

Galileo.

What is dynamic physics?

Dynamics is the branch of mechanics

that studies forces and the movements
they themselves produce.

And what is force?

That which can alter the resting state
or movement of a body, or distort it.

Dictation!

Father Dinis didn't want me
to just meditate.

As soon as I recovered,
he increased my lessons.

He forced me to reason, scientifically

in order to distract me from sterile
meditations about my enigmatic life...

It was...

in 1593,

period.

Rafael, silence!

Four years had gone by...

One day he told me to get dressed
to go for a walk with him.

His order surprised me because
it was a school day

and he'd never paid that kind
of attention to me before...

Do you want to come see something?

Come, come!

It's my father...

Joao, that's enough.

Don't you want to play with me?

I can't.

Goodbye.

Show your respect.

It's her!
The lady from the other night!

Quiet!

Do you want something?

No, sir. Just to rest.

But if we're bothering you,
we'll leave.

Who was that lady?

Why did she come see me?

That lady is your mother.

I knew it as soon as
I saw her! I was certain of it!

So, that man...

No. He's not your father.
Your father is no longer living.

That man is your mother's husband.

Now don't ask me any more questions,
because I won't answer.

Days later; they came to announce

that there was a man in the
entrance hall asking to see me.

Master Joao, the son of my dear Lady,
the son of that Saint!

I'm sorry, but who are you?

I am Bernardo, the Countess's
manservant.

I came to deliver a letter,

but when my Lady said you were here,

I couldn't
resist meeting you myself...

"My little knight."

If you only knew how much that soul
has suffered for you...

So you must know her well!
You can tell me everything.

Come. Let's go to my room.
We'll be more comfortable.

That man is a tiger.

He had the Countess locked up
for eight years.

Without seeing the sun or the moon!

Eight years...

So that's why she has
come to see me now.

But why did the Count lock her up?

That's a good one!

It was because of you!

Because of me?!

But he doesn't know me...

He's never seen me.

But he knows that you exist.

He found out, or someone told him,

that the Countess had borne
another man's child.

And that was enough for him.
That beast!

And this man...

my father...

Did you know him?

I never had that pleasure.

But you know who he was?

Again, no. The one who knows all this
is Father Dinis.

So you were here!

I've been looking for you for hours.

I brought him here.

It doesn't matter. Forget it.

Here is my reply to the Countess.

Be prudent.

Make sure she burns it
after it has been read.

You may leave. Go with God.

May God watch over you, child.

When shall you return?

You will return, won't you?

If the Father allows...

We'll talk later.

You should go, the Countess
is awaiting an answer.

Goodbye, child.

Your blessing, Father.

Here.

It's a letter from your mother.

It's not addressed to you, but I think
it's time you knew

what a bitter life she has.

Read it and ask God to have mercy
upon the person who wrote it.

The Count suspected it.

He wanted to wrench the secret
from me of the two people

he had
seen from the window

He locked me back in the room.

Then he placed a dagger over my heart.

I was certain he was going to kill me-

I begged for my life to be taken.

He spat in my face,
while deciding not to kill me.

Was it cowardice ?

Was it the pleasure
of seeing me suffer?

Who told you to leave here?

Did I tell you to leave?
I didn't tell you, did I?

Who told you to leave here?

Do you want me to shut you in here,
is that it?

Is that what you want?
Is that what you prefer?

Is that what you prefer?
It is, isn't it?

On the floor, right now!
On the floor, immediately!

On the floor!

Kill me!

But you want this don't you?

Kill me!

You want this, is that right?

You want me to kill you, is that it?

I beg you!

I'm begging you...

You're not going to leave here!

- You're not getting out of here!
- Kill me!

Stop!

Don't do this!

Let me go!

And you, what are you doing here?

Get moving! Get out of here!

Get out of here now!
Get out!

You've already been told not to leave
your chambers!

Please!

My soul covered itself
in a veil of sadness

the moment I read
my mother's letter.

Every morning I would ask
Father Dinis about hen

For months I had no
news, neither good nor bad.

Bernardo!

What's going on?
Has something happened?

The lady, your mother... The Count,
the King... The Countess...

The what?... My mother what?...
What did the Count do?

Now, Bernardo, easy, go on.
Your mother wants to see you.

See me? Where?
Did the Count let her go free?

The Count left. He went with the King.
With the troops.

It seems Don Pedro's Liberals
landed up North. In Minho.

His Majesty went to throw them
all into the sea.

- The Count...
- Left? The Count went away?

But then why didn't my mother
come with you?

She wanted nothing else
more than to come.

If she hadn't been ill...

She's ill?

It's nothing serious. Don't worry.

In any event, she is in bed and
she wants you to go there.

I'm going right away!

Easy. Calm down, Joao.
No rash actions.

Antonia, have them prepare
the coach.

Forgive me for turning my back, it's
just not good to see a manservant cry.

As the coach approached
the little palace of Santa Barbara,

I was stuck between the fear that
the sinister building filled me with,

and the joy of going to see
my mother again.

But the idea that I might be able to
take refuge in her arms,

ended up dispelling all fears.

Sit down.

You may come in.

Father Dinis.
Please sit down.

It's strange for me to be
receiving visitors.

I'm always...

afraid the Count might
appear at any moment.

If the troops are as numerous
as I've been told,

it's not likely the
Count will return very soon.

They spoke of three ships filled
with French and English mercenaries.

This war might last a lot
longer than we all imagined.

May God hear you...

However long it lasts, it won't
make up for the years I lost with my son...

Bernardo! Bernardo!
See if it's her. Hurry!

"Her"?

"Her" who, Countess,
if I'm not indiscreet?

Eugenia. The maid who lives
with the Count.

The Count lives with a maid?

I say maid but,

in fact, I am the maid,

and she is the Lady.

She is in charge here.
She decides everything.

It wasn't her, Countess.
Just a quarrel between two kitchen girls.

She hasn't left the Count's room
since he went away.

A good thing...

Perhaps I can breathe freely
for another day or two.

After what I've seen and heard,

I can't leave you alone
in this house.

But this is my house!

It's the only one I have.

Where would you have me go,
Father Dinis?

He who sheltered the child can
also shelter the mother.

Father Dinis, your generosity
confounds me.

And it shames me.
I'm not worthy of it.

Please allow me to be the judge
of what you deserve.

But what will the rest of the world say?

Have you already thought
of the slanders, the moral outrage?

The rest of the world is not under
my jurisdiction, Countess.

I am accountable to a
considerably higher power.

Please, mother, accept.
This way I can see you every day.

Do you think it's possible?
Do you think we can do it?

I think we must.

When?

Right away.

Bernardo!

Bring me my cape, please.

May I take a trunk?

Naturally.

I shall take it.

Thank you.

Let us go.

For my happiness to be complete,

I only needed to meet the other
half of my story

I didn't dare ask my mother to talk
about the father who was "no longer living",

as Father Dinis had put it.

I didn't want to torment her with the past
that had made her suffer so much.

I was truly startled when I saw him...

Don't say anything to the other one.
She can't know I am here.

I feel so happy, I could die without fear.

Mother. Don't speak any more of death.
Promise me.

You're right, my son. I promise.

But there will come a day when,
in this hell on earth,

the hope of death will be a paradise
for those that are unhappy.

But you said you were happy!

And I am.

What are you afraid of, then?

Of the past, Pedro.

Of my past...

oh, My God!

What misfortune will befall upon us now?

The Count has returned, Countess.

Forgive the delay.

Bernardo.

The Count kicked me out on the street.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I packed
my things and moved right away.

If you wish, you can always stay here,
Bernardo.

Thank you, Father Dinis,
I already have somewhere to stay.

You see, Countess,
everything works out.

Your husband will leave Lisbon with
the maid shortly. You are finally free.

Do you really think so?

You don't think the man won't use
his authority

to snatch my son away
from my own arms?

He might try. But first he'll have to
discover where to find the Countess.

It won't be easy for him.

And if he succeeds?

If he does succeed, there are the means,
even in this poor house,

to place Your Excellency and
your son out of his reach,

some two thousand leagues
from Lisbon.

Rest easy, Countess: God's blessing did
not abandon Agar in the desert.

My child, that's quite enough tears.
It's the time for smiles.

Think of your son.

Think of the future.

Father Dinis kept his reticent manner
every time I touched on the matter

But I insisted so much that one day..

Pedro!

Angela!

Pedro, I called you because your mother
has authorized me to tell you

what you keep wanting to know,
what you insisted to know.

Let's go to my office.

Angela!

It seems to me your mother
is not feeling well.

Angela!

I didn't tell you before, because
this story does not only belong to me.

I'm telling you now,
because it also belongs to you.

The year you were born, a man came to
this house and asked to see me...

- Joao, why aren't you writing?
- I have no more ink!

Ink, Joao, is to be brought from home!
Come here, you're going to be punished.

He was so pale and emaciated
he seemed more like a corpse.

With as little noise as possible...

Father, there's a ghost out there!

Be seated!

Joao, go and sit down!

Help me here.

Silence!

My name is Pedro da Silva.

I am the second son of the
Count of Alvaçoes.

As such, I am a poor man.

I'm a sort of bastard, but I was
born from a legitimate marriage.

It's as if I was the son of a Shoemaker
or a pig-keeper.

But my situation only became
unbearable

the day I met a rather fateful woman.

The kind who carry in their first loving look
either adventure or absolute disgrace.

The woman I loved was the daughter
of the Marquis of Montezelos.

A second child, just like me.

And predestined, like myself
to misfortune.

Deolinda!

What a fright!

Come in.

What is this?

Don't open it here, miss.

It's from the nobleman you saw
yesterday. The one from church.

When?

This morning, at the market...

Be careful, miss. The Marquis has
already returned from the guild.

Most Excellent Lady

Forgive my audacity in sending you
this letter

But nothing could keep me away
from the gaze I discovered yesterday

and dreamed of today

Ever since I saw you in church

I could not rest until I knew
to whom such enchantment belonged.

My minutes seem like hours.

My hours, like days.

This will endure until you have the
kindness to receive me.

For this reason, without calculation
and in all innocence,

I dare to ask you to
relieve me from this torment.

Yours,

Pedro da Silva.

At first, Father; it was a dream
without any repercussions.

A subtle drunkenness of the heart,
without the delirium of the senses.

A truly burning desire for happiness,

without imagining what happiness
should be for us...

If you'd care to rest a moment.

I'm sorry, no. It's nothing.
Don't worry.

I would rather finish my story;

I don't wish to occupy any more
of your time.

Later on, there was a shyness to
our relationship. Blushing for no reason.

A lowering of the eyes
in each other's presence.

It was, in the end, a struggle
between the heart and the head,

between innocence and calculation.

Between the sanctity of our affection
and the demon of social convention.

We saw each other almost every day
at the same place.

Enough to be sure that we wanted to
spend the rest of our lives together.

Yes .

I had already sworn thus
before you asked me.

I want to be yours.

In body and soul.

In life and in death.

I'm asking your father to allow
me an audience with him today.

I'm afraid, Pedro, I'm afraid.

Afraid of what, my love?

Afraid of what?

When one is in love as we are,
there's no reason to be afraid!

Right?

I love you so much...

Sir marquis...

Don Pedro.

Come.

You wanted to have a word.

And I received you out of deference
to your present situation,

although I feel it would be best
if you give up this charade.

But, Sir Marquis...

Believe me, it's better this way.

We can both avoid a rather
embarrassing moment.

You, asking for my daughter's hand,
and I, having to refuse you.

I shall only give my daughter away
to the man who meets two conditions.

First: he has to prove to me that he is
as noble as she is.

And second: he must be wealthy enough

to give her everything I have given her
until now.

Your Excellency certainly satisfies
the first condition.

However, the second, you do not.

My daughter is poor, Don Pedro da Silva.
Your Excellency is poor.

And neither I, nor your father can steal
from our firstborn children

to benefit the second.

Goodbye, Don Pedro.
It was a great pleasure.

It's best if you leave through this garden;
one never knows.

That is all.

Excuse me.

Angela, my girl!

Mother!

It's nothing.

Just dizziness, that's all.

From all the emotion.

Please continue, Father.

Don't worry about me.
Please continue.

All right, I shall continue,
but in your room.

You look tired.

I want you to rest.

Come, let's go, Countess.
Let's go.

Curiously, Don Pedro felt ill
at the same point in his tale.

I settled him on that very same sofa.

But he refused to rest until he had
finished telling me his story.

I had really embarrassed myself

I was tempted to take revenge.

To make his face flush with shame!
That father who had shamed me first.

But the struggle between pride and
dishonor did not last long.

I decided to leave for America,
where much gold had been found,

and where they had conquered
the European notion of social status.

A place where they trade
even human beings.

A place you later leave to get a
diploma as an honest man in Portugal.

I'm leaving for America.

I'll kill myself.

- Angela!
- If you leave, I'll kill myself.

My father will force me
to marry someone else.

I'd rather die.

Angela, wait.
Angela!

You're burning with a fever.

It's nothing. I've been like this for
months. Don't worry.

I abandoned my plans,

of course.

I couldn't abandon her like that.

I was sure she would put into practice
what she had threatened to do.

As a result of Deolinda's complicity

Angela began to receive me at home,
every time her father was away

We played silly games together
and dreamt of an unexpected fortune

and of escaping to another land...

Young lady! Don Pedro! Hurry!
It's the marquis!

At first, our meetings were
pure, almost fraternal.

But little by little,
the angel of innocence abandoned us.

And the impetuous voice of passion
spoke louder

And neither Angela nor I knew
how to resist it.

Bastard .

No.

Don't cry, Mother...

Come, my girl,
you must be strong.

I'm sorry.
It is too strong for me...

When I heard those shots,
I thought I was going to die!

My father had dismissed Deolinda,
and had locked me in my room.

Let's stop for now.
Let's let her rest.

No! Please, Father,
I beg you to continue.

I beg you to continue, please.

I want my son to know
who his father was.

I know I don't have the strength
to tell him myself.

Please continue Father.
I beg you to continue, for me.

Good morning.

What happened to me?

You lost consciousness, my friend.

No, no, no! Don't move.

You're in no condition to get up.

Can you move your arm?

No.

You haven't lost much blood.

The doctor will be back this afternoon
to examine you again.

Now, eat. You need to regain
your strength.

In the weeks that I lay
between life and death,

the Marquis of Montezelos
forced Angela to enter a convent.

You should rest assured that
at least there she is protected.

No doubt, Father.
But only a temporary protection.

Her father's intention was
to have her removed from there

as soon as he arranged her a husband.

Which convent?

The convent is the reason
that I came to see you.

I heard you had a sister
in the same place.

The Convent of Nazaré...

Unfortunately I arrived too late.

The Marquis came to take her
away two days ago.

For weeks, she remained in
a very bad state.

She cried all day, the poor thing.

And she didn't trust any one of us.

Not even the prelate
could reach her.

Do you know where they took her?

Home, I suppose.

But I can find out, if you want.

Then find out.

I fear the worst, Antonia.

For her, and for the other life
she carries in her bosom.

Most Holy Virgin!

May God protect her!

It's from Miss Antonia!
She said it's urgent.

Thank you.

You may go.

My sister Antonia told me that the
Marquis of Montezelos

had secretly sent his daughter to a ranch
he owns about 25 leagues from Lisbon.

Good morning, brother!

Might there be a drop of water to give
these poor beasts?

We'll pay, of course.

They haven't drunk since sunrise.

They're dying of thirst.

This isn't a public drinking place.

And I am no brother to any gypsy.

Go on, keep moving on your way.

There's a stream down there.
Less than two leagues away.

The water is free of charge.
And the information as well.

Be well.

Thank you, brother.

Have a swig, to compensate for
our inconvenience.

It's the good stuff.

It may not quench your thirst,
but it'll give you a kick.

If I don't drink, you're going to think
I'm being arrogant.

That is the good stuff!

If you want more, just come around.

I'll be up there, on Mule Mountain,
beyond the tree grove.

Just ask for me: Sabine Cabra.

I might come visit, you never know...

If I get thirsty and I have the urge...

My name is Heliodoro. But everyone
knows me as Knife-Eater.

The name isn't that pretty,
but it fits the person that I am.

I'll wait to see you there.
Stay in peace.

Oh, it's you! You scared me, man.
I didn't hear you coming.

People only hear me coming when
I want them to.

Sit down.

Are you alone?

Better alone...

That's right.

I was going to eat.
Will you join me?

It's meat.
Some people don't like it.

Stones are the only thing I don't eat.

But this horse business,
does it work or not?

It's working out.

To be honest, my friend Heliodoro...

Call me Knife-Eater!

Otherwise I'll think you're talking
to someone else.

Knife-Eater, my friend.

Let's just say if I sold only the ones
I buy and the ones I raise,

you might well say
that I would die of hunger.

But counting on others,
I can't complain.

Which "others"?

The ones I End...

Where?

Wherever...

The ones you "find"!

What about you?

More or less like you.

Like me?

Like this: I made a treaty with the
marquis down there...

The one with the farm.

When he has a problem,
I solve it for him.

And it works out for you?

Yes .

It's better than walking around
planting seeds in the ground.

Which is what I used to do...

Right now I have a special job
from him.

And this one is going to be a
real piece of work, seriously...

A special one...

It's the Marquis' daughter.

No!

His actual daughter!?

The girl is... you know...

And the father's unknown.

The finer they are,
the more they're like goats.

Unless it is... No offense...

And so?

And so?
The baby's a bastard, man!

But it's almost born, almost.

And when it's born, two shovelfuls
of dirt and it's all over.

At that age,
it doesn't have an age at all.

Nor a size!
Not even a sin!

Just a tiny grain of sand...
in this entire desert...

When it comes out: Whoosh!
It will go straight to Heaven.

Was it me?
Was I the bastard?

In the eyes of the Lord, there are
no bastards, nor second children.

We are all firstborn.

But I was the one
he was supposed to kill?

What are you doing here?

The Marquis doesn't like visitors.

Luckily, he's not here,
but he might have been.

Good morning, brother.

I already told you I'm not your brother.

It's not from drinking two glasses
together that we're now the same blood.

What do you want?

I came here to make you
a business proposition.

A business proposition?

What business?

I don't buy or sell horses and
I don't steal them, either.

What about bastards?

What did you say?
What is that all about?

You told me yourself, last night.

You shouldn't drink.

Lower your voice, you fool!
What else did I tell you?

Isn't there a place
where we can speak in peace?

What I want to propose
shouldn't be done here.

Come on, then.

Thank you, brother.

Sit down over there.

What's that?

Open it.

Count them.

I have just as many more on me.

If it's more than the Marquis gives you,
then the bastard is mine.

The bastard is yours?

Why do you want it?

What purpose does it serve you?

That's up to me. Don't worry.

But if you're not interested
in the deal...

Hey, hold on!

Who said I wasn't interested?

There must be around 40 coins here!

Eighty, counting the ones I have on me.

But that's a lot of money!

He's worth that much?

To you, he's worth it.

And you avoid having one more crime
on your conscience.

Come on, decide!
I have the horses waiting.

It's decided.

Forty it is then, brother.

Bread, sausage, brother.

He sold me to Father Dinis,
is that it?

Who?

The gypsy. That animal.

He saved my life...

He bought me from the assassin,
and sold me to Father Dinis.

It was like that, wasn't it?

No, it wasn't quite like that.

But the story has gone on for
too long now, and it's late.

Your mother is exhausted.
Come on, we'll let her rest.

Sleep well, mother.

I doubt it, my son.

But just knowing you're nearby will
make my insomnia more bearable.

Good night, Father Dinis.

Good night, Countess.

Can I ask you one more question,
Father?

It's the last one, I swear.

What about my father?

God allowed your father to see his
son and kiss him before leaving.

He died two days after
you arrived in this house.

He was still able to dictate
a letter for the Countess,

in which he declared that the boy
was safe and sound.

He left this world
with your mother's name on his lips.

He was a just and virtuous
man who was unfortunate.

Don't be embarrassed in being his son.

Now go to sleep!

Tomorrow eight o'clock.
Botany.

You know I don't like you to be late.

See you tomorrow, Father.

Before leaving Lisbon with Eugenia,

the Count of Santa Barbara
told everyone

that my mother had
abandoned him for another man.

Within the upper social circles
of Lisbon,

my mother became the ignoble
topic of conversation

in the salons
and city squares.

She's even my cousin,
imagine that!

Two or three times removed,
in truth, but regardless to say...

- I heard that the man is a priest.
- My God! What a shameful thing.

It seems that even
before she was married she...

Alas, what is certain
is that her father,

the poor Marquis of Montezelos,
my father's distant cousin,

forced her to enter a convent,
before arranging her a husband.

What do you suppose was the reason?

The reason is that she was...
You know...

It was the Count of Santa Barbara
himself who told my husband...

Poor man.

Apparently tears came to his eyes.
He's an absolute mess.

I heard that he even left Lisbon
altogether.

He left to join the troops
of King Don Miguel, in Minho.

In the condition I saw him,

I wouldn't be surprise if he did
something foolish.

Who is that tall gentleman, Marquise?

I never saw him here before.

And he has a foreign air about him.

The Brazilian.

His name is Alberto de Magalhaes.

They say he's the bastard son
of King Don Joao VI

and an attendant of Queen Dona Maria.

If one look's closely, in fact,
the lower lip is just like the Braganças.

What is certain is that
not long ago he came from Brazil

and that he has money
to burn.

To me, as far as I can tell,
he's a liberal. A spy for Don Pedro.

And that his fortune will only
allow him

to bring down the court
and the altar as well.

That is what they told my husband,
from a trustworthy source.

Neither royal bastard, nor liberal spy,
my dear ladies.

I am sorry to disappoint you,
but my information is trustworthy.

Your Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes
got rich in the ignoble slave trade.

And nowadays, he maintains his fortune
through piracy.

How horrible!
Could it actually be possible?

I've already heard those rumors,
Don Martinho.

And I don't believe them.

My husband would never have agreed
to receive a man of that ilk.

Would you be so kind as to bring me
my handkerchief, Don Martinho?

I left it on that table.

Certainly.

What are you smiling about,
Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes?

Can you tell me?

About you Your Excellency, Countess.

About me?

Or people in general,
if your prefer, Countess.

I do not understand.

Neither do I.

I thought about what Your Excellency
had said a moment ago

about the Countess of Santa Barbara.

And that makes you smile?

That the poor Countess
of Santa Barbara

is the "shame of the
Portuguese nobility"?

Does Your Excellency think
we should all take this so seriously?

I did not ask for your...

I do not ask your opinion, sir.

I only ask for the respect of not
laughing at my opinion.

You ask too much of me,
Your Excellency.

It's difficult not to laugh at something
so laughable.

This is an insult!

To the Countess, I say it's not.

To Your Excellency,
I say interpret it as you wish.

I take it as a provocation!

And I feel I have the right
to demand some explanations!

You do not have to touch me,
Don Martinho de Almeida.

Nonsense like that
can be spoken from a distance.

Pardon me, Your Excellency,

but you have a note at your feet.

If it's not from your husband,

it might be an outrage to the
principles you yourself proclaim!

Dear Friend,
I wait impatiently for the moment

when I can hold you tightly
in my arms again.

Don Martinho de Almeida instructed us
to ask Your Excellency:

with whom we should negotiate
the conditions of the duel.

With me.

Your Excellency, forgive me,
but that is not standard practice.

You must subject yourself
to the conditions that are imposed

by two gentlemen whom you trust.

That is precisely why I do not concede
to anyone.

I am the one who imposes
obligations of honor.

I am in full use of my capacities.

I answer for myself: I do not fight.

You don't fight?
You don't fight?

No.

Have you seriously considered the
consequences of this decision?

What consequences?

The risk of an unexpected
encounter, which could be fatal...

I assume that risk.

Is that all?

No, no.

I haven't yet wished you
a very nice day.

Good morning, boss.

Good morning Mr. Joao.

Mr. Paulo, Mr. Raul.

That was not the case with Father Dinis.

He had also heard the rumors
that were spreading through Lisbon.

Without saying a word to my mother;

he presented a case
against the Count of Santa Barbara

at the court which deals with abuse,
and punishes slanderers.

He called for justice, and that the Count
prove his slanderous claim, or recant.

Informed that the Count had taken ill
during the journey

and was convalescing in an Inn
in Santarem,

father Dinis didn't hesitate
to take a trip there,

accompanied by a bailiff
and a registrar.

He was determined to put an end,
without delay

to the offense inflicted
on the honor of his protege.

I am sorry, gentlemen, but the Count
is in no condition to receive visitors.

This isn't a visit, dear sir.

This is a matter of judicial diligence.

Forgive me, Father, but
wouldn't it be better

to wait for a
more auspicious moment?

No, Registrar.

The person I represent has already
waited far too long.

Count,

this gentleman is the Registrar
of the Third Order,

and this other one is the bailiff.

They have been empowered with a
diligence,

to be collected from Your Excellency.

Diligence?! Third Order?!
What is this all about?

I don't owe anything to anyone.

This is not about a debt, Count.

Your Excellency, forgive me.
I come involuntarily to charge you.

I was sent here at the request of the
Countess of Santa Barbara.

What does that woman want from me?

She wants the Count
to respect her honor.

Who are you, sir?!
I know you. I've seen you before!

You've seen me, indeed.

But where?
Where have I seen you?

You saw me in front of your house.
In the garden.

Yes, yes, with a little boy...
I remember well. But before that?

It was before, long before...

It's possible.

It will come back to me.

I'll remember.

I don't understand.

What do you have to do with this matter,
with the court, and its jurisdiction?

I am here in the capacity of protector
of the Countess of Santa Barbara.

I am the vigilant sentinel of her honor
and I can point out,

without hesitation, that I protect
your honor as well, Your Excellency.

For my honor!
You're mocking me, Father.

No, no. I am not mocking you.

I know that Your Excellency
was not the only one

who was responsible for the misfortunes
of the Countess.

And I also know that you were
a puppet

in the hands of her father,
the Marquis of Montezelos.

You know that?
You know that?

So, I was right.

We have seen each other before.

I know you!

It's possible.

Eugenia. Gentlemen.

I beg you to leave me for a moment with
the priest.

Eugenia, you may leave.

I will sign anything you want.

But first, I must speak with him alone.

Would you leave, please?

Sit down.

I am sorry. I feel like I'm suffocating.

What did the doctor say?

That this is an extraordinary case,
and he delays his diagnosis,

because he wants to consult
his colleagues.

In other words: he doesn't know.

But let us forget about all that.

It's strange, I have such a strong
impression that I know you,

but I am not able to remember.

You mean to say you're aware the
Marquis of Montezelos was my tutor?

I am.

You're right, it's true. He treated me
like a puppet.

I was practically a child.
Frivolous, foolhardy.

I only thought about racing dogs and
Arabian horses.

He spoke to me of his daughter.

He wanted to introduce her to me.

I had heard a vague story about a
convent...

I resisted him.

I would invent excuses.

The last thing on my mind
was getting married.

One day he took me to the Ball of the
Count of Colares.

She was a fascinating figure,
a mixture of richness and beauty that

completely astonished me.

This is the latest fashion in the salons.
Dancing African Lunduns.

Is it also a fashion to go around
pointing fingers?

My butler is the culprit,
he is a deaf-mute.

The poor man can't say anything
so he points instead.

Now, everyone points.
It seems to be fashion.

But it is very ugly, is it not?

If it's the fashion, it's the fashion.

Do you really think so?

You'll see the good it does you.
Just for one night,

trading horses and dogs for men
in elegant clothes and beautiful women.

Something happened?
Are you feeling all right?

Who is that woman talking to those two
ladies over there?

Do you know her?

That's my daughter, Angela.
You've never seen her?

I don't believe so.

At least I've never seen her with the
eyes I have today.

I was just about to introduce you. Come.

I don't feel well, Father.

I wanted to ask for
your permission to retire...

Angela! You promised me.

You don't feel well because you're all
alone here.

I've brought you just the right company.

The Count of Santa Barbara.

A dear friend.
And an admirer of yours.

Good. Well, I'll leave you two to
get acquainted.

The company of old people isn't healthy
for the young.

Don't make me look bad.

So long. Enjoy yourselves.

Don't you like dancing?

It doesn't really speak to me any more.

I don't even know if I still know how.

I never knew...

But I know how to hunt boar and ride
without a saddle...

Do you like horses?
I have two thoroughbreds.

I brought them from Marrakesh.
They cost me an arm and a leg.

They're the most elegant horses in
all of Lisbon.

I'd like you to see them, but
I don't allow anyone to ride them.

But for you, young lady, I might be
convinced to allow.

If it pleases you, of course.

You should not be interested in me,
Count.

You shouldn't.

My heart is dead.

It's too late, Angela.
My heart already belongs to you.

- It's been yours since I first saw you.
- Don't say that.

Don't do that.

You can't...

I can't.
I Can't!

Seen from close up,
the heart increased in value

what it had lost in the caliber of her eyes.

She was a woman to be seen,
but she was more to be loved...

So, you talked?

Your daughter, Marquis,
isn't much for conversation.

Don't tell me she didn't talk to you.

Obviously, I don't interest her.

That nonsense!
Of course you interest her.

I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

She had a shrine of lost love in her soul.

And they turned it into a cup of bile...

What?

I'm talking about Angela de Lima,
Count of Santa Barbara.

They turned the love she had in her soul
into a cup of bile.

Do you also want to place yourself into
the heart of that unhappy girl?

Leave her, Count.

The memory of a first love,
the corpse of the first man she loved,

marked her existence with longings that
your passion can't compete against.

Leave her, for pity's sake.

Don't buy her from her father,
because you're buying a dead slave.

But who are you,

how did you know?

It doesn't matter. I am a friend.

Everything is cleared up, dear Count.

A passing indisposition.
A misunderstanding.

Go. She is waiting for you
to excuse herself.

Don't make her wait!
She'll think you're still bitter.

Count. Father.

I am sorry, but this isn't good
for the patient's condition...

Get him out of here.

Tell him to leave us in peace.

Please, Doctor.

If I need you, I will call you.

Please, Doctor.

When I returned to Angela's side,
I found her docile and cheerful.

But the smile was forced and her
docility was really just her resignation.

I didn't want to see it then,
but now I see it much clearer.

She accepted my courtship
with a certain obedience.

I wanted her to accept me of
her own free will,

and pretended not to see the iron hand
of her father,

who constrained her in the shadows.

I heard only my own feelings,

my selfishness,

instead of opening my ears
to that man,

the unknown man who had
approached me at the Ball.

You never saw him again?

Once. Only once.

On the eve of my marriage
to Angela de Lima.

I had gone to finalize the preparations
for the ceremony

when I had the unusual yet
irrepressible impulse,

to ask God to bless
our union.

And I recognized his voice immediately..

I see you haven't followed my advice,
Count of Santa Barbara.

I lament that.

For you and,
principally, for her.

This marriage will cause the disgrace
of Angela de Lima, and you, too.

If you can't find happiness
in being her executioner,

you too shall be disgraced.

A disgrace with no cure.

But who are you, sir?

How can you say such a thing?

What is your name?

Everything he told me, happened...

I tried to find out who he was...

They told me his name was
Sebastiao de Melo.

They told me the most contradictory
things about him.

I looked for him.

But no one ever saw him again.

He magically disappeared.

Naturally, he died.

No, he didn't die.
But it was as if he had.

Did you know him?

I knew him.

It's not possible!

Everything is possible.

That look!

That voice!

I knew I had seen you before!

Sebastiao de Melo!

Father Dinis Ramalho e Sousa.

The world now
knows me by this name.

I have asked you to come, Eugenia,

because I wanted you to bear
witness to my penance.

This is the declaration
I am prepared to sign, Mr. Registrar:

I have dishonored myself by insulting
the Countess of Santa Barbara, my wife.

I wanted her to pay for the sins of
her father,

the Marquis of Montezelos,

and so I gave her, for fifteen years,
a life of incredible bitterness.

I invented torturous methods to
humiliate her self-esteem,

and made attacks upon her dignity.

I brought her close to the grave,
and when I saw her run away,

I was indignant that the victim
hadn't let me extract her last whimper,

without society hearing it.

The Countess of Santa Barbara
ran away just days ago, from her home.

I presumed that she had gone to count
her lashes,

which nobody could imagine.

I wanted to justify one disgrace with
anothen

I accused her of adultery
In truth, if her honor is stained,

it is due to my perversions,

and the contact I forced her into
with a man

of degenerate instincts that dishonor
the name of my forefathers.

Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes!

I told you the other day

that your ethics have imposed your
duty to give an explanation.

You told me.

I sent you two "seconds".
You refused the proposal of a duel.

I refused.

Do I thus understand that,
in counterpoint,

you propose
to make your amends?

You misunderstood.

In that case,
Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes,

I must consider you a coward.

You are a Coward!

You are a coward,
Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes!

You are a Coward!

Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes is a coward!

You are a coward! Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes!

Easy!

- Easy! Easy!
- You are a coward!

You are a coward! You are a coward,
Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes!

What happened, sir?

An uproar here between two nobles.

One of them called the other a
coward and tried to shoot him.

So, the other one grabbed him and sent
him through the air like a feather.

But what a spectacle!

And do you know what it was about?

One of the nobles with him
had mentioned

it was over some Countess or Vice
Countess of Santa Barbara.

Did you say the Countess
of Santa Barbara?

Or Vice Countess,
I'm not precisely certain.

Did you hear either of their names?
These fighting nobles?

One of them talked of...
Alberto de Magalhaes.

And this one, Alberto,
headed toward the other one...

I didn't hear what they were
talking about very well.

The unknown man who courageously
took up my mother's defense,

was that mysterious correspondent
who called himself Alberto de Magalhaes.

He tried to deflect revelations about
the son

who had been ripped from
her arms at birth.

And would become the most enigmatic
celebrity in Lisbon.

And yet, Father Dinis was not one
to leave a puzzle unsolved.

What comes around goes around,
my dear. Do you see?

Disgrace has tired itself out.

Thanks to you, Father Dinis.

I could never repay you for what you did
for me and for my son. Never.

No, my child. You owe me nothing.

I did no more than repair
a tiny part

of the evil the world has done to you.

And the Count?

Now that he has had his penance,

won't he want my mother
to return home?

No, no. Have no fear.

The Count is in no position to demand
anything at all.

He hardly dares beg you to forgive him.

If he doesn't oblige me to return,
I will forgive him!

I will forgive him with all my heart!

Would you agree to make this
statement in Santarem?

His condition is quite poor.

He fears he may not be able
to return to Lisbon.

And he despairs at the thought of dying

without hearing from your lips
that you forgive him.

No, mother, don't agree! Don't go!

I must agree my son.

Otherwise, I 'll regret it my whole life-

Won't you follow me there?

That's perfectly understood.

When?

Tomorrow at dawn.

I wanted to ask you, Countess:

Alberto de Magalhaes,

does that name mean anything to you?

Yes, I saw it in writing once.

Where?

On a note a gentleman gave Bernardo to
deliver to me.

What did this note say,
if I am not being too indiscreet?

Something about the secret
of my son's birth...

I confess, I attached no importance
to it at the time.

I thought it was one more of the Count's
intrigues to torment me.

I threw it in a trunk and never
thought of it again.

But the name on the signature, yes...

Yes. It was Alberto de Magalhaes...

Why do you ask, Father Dinis?

Because I was told yesterday
that a man with that name

fought another man, on your behalf.

On my behalf? About what?

I don't know, Countess.
But we must find out

You must show me that note
when we return to Lisbon.

Countess, allow me to introduce you
to the Circuit Judge.

I know it is late, Countess,
but if Your Excellency desires

I can call witnesses to proceed with the
opening of the will...

No, Your Honor, please spare me.

I understand. As you wish.
I am at your disposal.

I am Friar Baltasar da Encarnaçao.

And I was here during
the Count's final moments

I have a letter to deliver to the
Countess.

Countess.

Friar Baltasar da Encarnaçao,

he spent the final moments
with the Count.

If you'll allow me to explain,
Your Excellency...

I promised your husband

that I would personally deliver
this letter to you.

He dictated it to me with his last
breath,

and he signed it himself with his last
bit of strength.

My heart tells me
you will come too late.

And when you come, if you come,
my body will already be cold,

my eyes will already be closed,

and my ears will already be deaf
to the forgiveness from your lips.

Don't curse me, Angela.

A man who promises me
your forgiveness is by my side.

And a just man who will tell you to
forgive me is by your side.

Listen to both of them!

Save me and may the world curse the
memory of the Count of Santa Barbara.

I die with your Visage etched
upon my heart.

I was right to have
objected to their journey

When my mother returned,
she was someone else.

What is going on?
Why won't she speak to me?

The Count is dead, my son.

Your mother has been greatly affected.

She hardly slept.

Come. I have serious things to tell you.

What I am about to tell you will
probably make you suffer.

But think of your mother.

You can be certain that her suffering
is infinitely greater than yours.

Think of her.

The Count of Santa Barbara
made your mother his sole heir.

She has refused the inheritance.

She thinks she has no right
to the fortune

of the man she never considered
nor accepted as her husband.

She did the right thing!

This inheritance would be
dishonorable.

That is what she thinks, as well.

Simply put, her refusal now leaves her
without the means

to live according
to her accustomed status.

As your grandfather,
the Marquis of Montezelos,

had said to your father,
your mother is poor.

A lady of her background,
with no fortune

and without a husband, has no place in
the world she knows.

But, alas, she has me. She has a son!

A year or two from now
I will be able to End a...

I don't know, a mentor!

I could be a mentor! I could teach...

A year or two from now, maybe...

Three or four, more likely.

But in the meantime, you must admit
you are more of a burden for your

mother than anything else.

And so?

So your mother has decided to enter
a convent.

No!

It's the only reasonable solution.

And, beyond that, it corresponds with your
mother's wish

to retire from the world that has made
her suffer so much,

and to respect the memory of the Count
of Santa Barbara...

What about me?

I just found my mother,
only to lose her again?

I know it's not fair, my son.

But I can only repeat what I said
a little while ago.

Think of her.

Think of her spirit,

after all these torments
that she has been through.

Think of your mother.

Goodbye, my lady.

God be with you.

Good luck.

Pedro... Pedro!

Come on.

Our men there boarded three
Spanish ships.

Silks and porcelain.
There was no resistance at all.

I've calculated our take at one hundred
and twenty thousand!

Silk has become scarce.

And in the Baltic?

No news. It's early.

What about Panama?

One boarding, but of no real interest.

The business in Peru is almost
finished.

Go on. You can come in.

The priest is here to see you,
Your Excellency.

I always thought you would end up
entering a religious order!

Have him come into the salon.

You'll wait for me here?

It is pointless. I had already finished.

They are waiting for me at the guild.

Leave through the garden.
You never know...

Is it with Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes
that I have this honor?

Don't you recognize me?

Should I?

Well, I recognize you.

It seems like yesterday...

Even after all these years
and with that cassock...

By the way,

is the cassock real?

Or is it more of a disguise?

I'm sorry, I don't understand
your intended irony.

Of what disguise do you speak?

The disguise of a gypsy.

His name was Sabine Cabra...

How do you know?

Where did you hear it?

Only two men knew that name.

One died, and the other...

The other called himself Knife-Eater!

Have I changed that much,
Mr. Sabine Cabra?

The cat is to be placed there!

Come on, quickly!

I want this done quickly!
Now leave!

I'm sorry.

The money you gave me
changed my life.

It freed my spirit.

It opened me up to knowledge.

The path of knowledge, of science.

Of free will!

This pot is going on that side!
Come on, quickly!

I want everyone working!
Come on! Such incompetence!

I'm sorry.

But that's enough of my speech.

I'm not going to tell you how
Knife-Eater

transformed himself into Alberto de
Magalhaes.

It would be long and tedious.

But I am also not going to ask how a
gypsy transformed himself into a priest.

But I am somewhat curious as to

whether the son of Angela de Lima
is alive.

He is. Thanks to God, he is.

Relieved to hear it.

Sincerely relieved.

I would like to see him.

You may.

But preferably without being seen.

I don't wish to explain the
circumstances

under which I saw him for the last time.

I understand.

You know...

at times I think I actually did
what I had intended to do.

It gives me the cold sweats.

I will never be able to repay you,
Father.

I am already paid in full,
Mr. Alberto de Magalhaes.

We settled all our accounts today.

Accounts, yes, accounts!

I would like to entrust you with the sum
that had saved the boy's life.

So that you can use to his benefit.

It was once the price of his blood.
It is only fair that he gets it back.

Careful with the Bust!

Let's get going, hurry up!

I want the candlesticks on that side!

I want everyone working!

Today!

This mission pleases me,
and I accept.

What are you doing here?

Get outside!

And quickly!

Gentlemen,

we're done for today.

Thank you very much.

Thank you...

Oh, I almost forgot! All of your
husband's wishes were fulfilled.

With the exception of the sum left to
Eugenia, his maid.

Why?

She didn't want to accept it.

She told me she hadn't sold herself
to the Count of Santa Barbara

while he was alive, let alone sold herself
to him after his death.

I didn't expect that of her.

Could I have been mistaken about her?

Days later, I met her in a carriage.

She stopped the horses,
called me to the window,

and gave me her address
in Praçaa da Alegria.

He invited me to visit him.

And you're going?

One of these days.

The mystery is provocative...

Oh, another thing:
tomorrow I can't come.

I'm leaving for Santarem.

Does it still have to do with the death
of the Count?

Indirectly. The count's Confessor,
remember, the monk?

He asked me to visit him.

Will you please tell my sister?

Your sister?
Dona Antonia?

As far as I know,

Sebastiao de Melo had no sisters...

Didn't he?

Another secret?

You'll get your answer later.

I beg you to continue to consider
her as my sister.

You'll tell her?

Rest assured.

End of part one.

Second part

Father. Father!

If you only knew how anxiously and
impatiently I've been waiting for you!

I was uncertain about
writing to the Countess...

With what intention?

With the intention of spending
a few hours

to help an old monk.

But I've gone on and on and you
must be dying of hunger and thirst

after such a journey, Father!

Come.
Come.

The monk in charge has left
us the pick of his chicken coop.

As a special treat!

The capon is divine, you'll see...

Baked, with baby potatoes.

And the monastery wine?

Renowned! You'll see.

I'm not that much of an eater and
drinker.

I was. But I'm afraid I've lost the
habit and the taste.

Bad! That's bad.

They're the blessings of the Lord

it's our duty to honor them.

We, more than anyone else,
as His true servants...

But in the present case,

I must confess that
my references to the menu

are a secondary issue.

What do you mean?

I have a long story to tell you

My story.

I've never told it to anyone.

During my long tale
you will surely ask yourself

why I am telling you these things.

You will understand,
once and for all, why.

Accept that I'll keep you quiet for now.

I was born in Minho.

My father was from a noble family,
older than the kings of this land...

I was born with bad instincts
and was freely educated.

They issued me carte blanche
to freely dispose of the gold

with which I prodigiously
indulged my immoralities.

All of this ended

when I saw the
Countess of Viso for the first time

It was my cousin, Paulo,
my best and most loyal friend,

almost like a brother,

who took me one night
to a gala held by the Count,

her husband...

The baroness would have bitten
you if she could have...

What did you do to her?

I couldn't take it any longer.

I broke it off with her.

She wouldn't give in.

Tears, screams, howls.
Unbearable.

I wrote to her husband.

You wrote to him!?
Saying what?

That I had been his wife's lover.

And the lie:

that I had broken it off because I
found it hard to deceive him.

You wrote that to him?!

Literally.

And I stressed that the woman
would not let me go,

and that it was now up to him,
the husband, to take her in hand.

No! What did he do?

I don't know, but she left me in peace.

Alvaro, you are truly unique!

No, Paulo, I'm not.

I'm bored with myself.

Bored, but why?

I'm twenty-three years old, Paulo.
Twenty-three!

And in twenty-three years I've never
known the thrill of a noble passion.

Noble passion!

That doesn't even sound like you,
cousin.

With all the women that you...

With all the women I've thrown into
dishonor.

No, that you threw or they threw
themselves.

Don't tell me you're feeling remorse.
Is that it?

No, it's not that...

Not one of them
weighs on my conscience.

What weighs on me is that not one of
them inspired true affection in me.

Be careful, the Count is a jealous man...

And a man of arms!

And the Countess has everything
that can cause a man to lose himself.

Yes, an almost pilgrim-like beauty,
and they say she has a rich spirit.

For the love of such a woman,
I could become my friend's assassin...

If the condition of my power were such.

What a look!

A look that says: retreat,
you wretched man!

It's not just the Countess who is
looking at you...

Didn't I tell you he was jealous?

Count.

They tell me that we share feelings
for the same person,

Don Alvaro de Albuquerque.

It isn't always appropriate
to put faith in what people say, Count.

How so?

Was it not your father who died

in the dungeons of the Castle of S. Joao
da Foz, near here?

Just some ten years ago?

It was eleven, Count. Eleven years ago.

Eleven years ago.

So they hadn't misinformed me then.

Not by the look of things.

If you'll excuse me...

But, in fact, I'm sorry, Count.

To whom does this sentiment that
we share refer?

- Did you perchance know my father?
- No. Unfortunately.

I did not have that honor.

I was referring to the man responsible
for his death.

The Count of Oeiras?

Was it not the torture of this
butcher of a man

that led to you losing your father?

It was also thanks to his intrigues
with His Majesty

that I was removed from
the Palace.

I shall never forgive him.

Nor shall I, believe me.

I've waited eleven years
for this happy moment

where I can alleviate my rancor
with the spilled blood

of the Marquis of Pombal.

Holy words, my friend, Holy words!

Friends throughout life
and throughout death!

This house is yours.

I will take full pleasure in keeping my
door open to you,

both by day and by night!

Music, Music.

The friendship of the Count in no way
altered the iciness of the Countess.

Her indifference, silent and impassable,
was like a sarcastic jab at my vanity...

She was my first passion;

and I fed it with generous tears.

Alvaro...

That was my name back then,

but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I will tell you everything at the
appropriate time.

Until that evening I had never met the
Countess face to face.

What happened?
Who is going to travel?

The Count, sir. His Majesty died
yesterday

Don Alvaro.

I was going to send someone
to advise you.

We are going to have to move our
little game.

Don José is dead.

Her Highness, Dona Maria
called me to the Palace

to attend the tribute and has named me
a Knight of the Royal Chamber!

Good, which means that the
Marquis...

now has his days numbered.

Her Highness loathes him more
than the two of us together, man!

Where are you going in such a hurry?

I'm going to get a Port wine I've had
in the house for fifteen years,

that's been waiting
for this very occasion!

There is plenty of time for that, man.

First, I wanted to ask you a favor.
From one friend to another...

Tell me, only if I'm unable to...

You're able. Just willing to is enough.

I would like you to give two words of
consolation to the Countess...

But isn't the Countess going with you?

What a thought, Don Alvaro!

You know that women, in these political
matters, are an obstacle.

The Countess sat down, and she was
offended. Well, you know...

Who better than my friend to explain it
to her?

It's just that I don't have the time.
Nor the talent.

I am a man of arms, not words,

I have no knack whatsoever
for speeches.

Well, but will the Countess listen to me?

She hears just fine
so why wouldn't she listen?

Women melt with beautiful words.

Thank you, my friend.

And don't let the Countess
embarrass herself any further.

Strike the iron while it's hot.

I'm dying to see the face of the Marquis

being run out of the Palace with a
swift foot to the seat of his pants!

Well they're wrong!

The Count is wrong,
and so is his lawyer.

It's not about vanity.

Nor about wounded self-esteem.

What hurts me is
the lack of consideration.

It's being treated like a...

like a ridiculous obstacle.

I'm delighted you find me amusing,
Don Alvaro.

Especially when I'm not trying to be
funny.

I am afraid you have
mistaken me, Countess.

I am not the Count's lawyer,

nor does my smile carry the intention
you have attributed it

It was the word "obstacle" that
made me smile.

It was the same word the Count
used just now.

He referred to me as an obstacle?

No, not personally.

He spoke of women in general.

You know the Count carries his heart in
his mouth. He is a soldier.

He has the rude frankness of a soldier.
He has no style. No pretense.

Is that the case?

But the truth is, either
in general or in particular,

you think my role is not by his side in
the Palace,

but here as your servant in this place
of exile!

You certainly think like he does.

No. Not in any way.

I don't think your place is here.

And even less as a servant.

Why?

You hardly know me.

I know you well enough, Silvina,

To guess, to see beyond appearances,

all your desires and anxieties.

The Countess could tell...

stifled dreams...

She knew only too well...
that I adored her.

She would fight against her heart,
denying its impulses...

But she was weak.

Am I really so transparent?

As weak as every woman
who fights two powerful enemies:

the indifference of her husband...

and the most loving warmth of desire.

She gave in to it.

They all give in in the end, Father Dinis, when
the lover's patience takes

advantage of the husband's impatience.

God in heaven! It's daytime!

Alvaro! Alvaro!

For the love of God, wake up!
It's already daytime!

Alvaro! Alvaro!

Such a shame.

You're going to have to hide me here
until night time.

That's impossible!

They're bound to want to clean up...

Oh my God!
Someone is coming!

Yes, what is it?

Forgive me, Countess, a letter has
arrived from the Count. It is urgent.

Do you not feel well, Countess?

No, I slept poorly.
Don't interrupt me again unless I call.

Alvaro! Please...please.

He wants you to go to him.

Right now. Today.
"Come at once".

Why this hurry?

He doesn't say...

But like this, suddenly,
after three months...

He knows.

Impossible. We were so careful.

How could he know?

He knows.

Someone told him.
Someone must have seen us.

No, Alvaro, you're right.

I can't go to be with him...

Better to die. Better to kill myself!

No!

Better to live!

The two of us. Far away from here.
In France or Italy. It doesn't matter.

But the two of us. Together.

Run away?!

With what? How?

When?

I'll sell everything I own here.

Two days are all I need.

Two days from now we'll be in Spain.

Three days later, we can be in Venice.

But the two of us! Free!

We crossed half of Europe
as if in a dream.

To Spain, France, the north of Italy.

We only stopped in Venice.

We spent months of supreme
happiness there.

But in the shadows, and with no
signs as to excite curiosity in us,

we were without a country.

There wasn't a single hint that could give
away our identity as outsiders.

Until the day Silvina told me
she was carrying a child.

Quite soon, however, the event that
should have crowned our happiness,

now threatened it's very existence.

How are you?

How is she?

How do you expect her to be?

I don't understand.

You knew the risk you were running...

Risk? What risk, doctor?

She didn't tell you?

What was she supposed
to have told me?

She didn't tell you.

The physiological constitution
of the lady...

The what? What does she have?
What constitution?

The doctors had advised her...

They said nothing to you?

When she married, they warned her:
childbirth could be fatal for her...

Fatal!?

Don't despair. Science sometimes
works miracles.

Come with me, come see her.

Alvaro.

My God, I am going to die!

No. I won't leave Silvina!

Why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want to...

- You should have told me!
- I didn't want to frighten you...

I thought, with time the doctors might...

Come on, be strong!

Now leave.
Let us work.

Be strong!

I thought I would die,
but I did not die.

I considered suicide.

I looked around me,

searching for a
pistol, a dagger, an abyss...

Paradoxically, my religious beliefs were
born in that very instant.

Without God, there are incurable
wounds.

I had to convince myself
I was struggling with God

to retract the blasphemies in my heart
invented by my desperation.

I could not abandon Silvina's body
in Venice.

I took it with me.

My cousin Paulo had been put in
charge of Portugal's commerce in Rome.

He was my only hope.

Alvaro.

Such horrible news.

My poor friend.

Sit down.

Life, at times, is like that.

Cruel.

And quite unjust.

Cruel, without doubt.

Unjust, I don't know...

I speak for myself.
I suffer what I caused to suffer. I pay.

But her, my God!

She is paying for me!

Because she certainly is not
paying for herself.

Enough. You can't continue to torment
yourself like this.

I'm sorry, Paulo.

It's you I'm tormenting now.

You're right.

Enough tears.

I've decided to retreat to a monastery.

You?

Not out of my love for religion!

Nor out of a thirst for humiliation.

Nor for the cilices, the fasting,
the discipline...

No. it's my way of leaving life,

without resorting to the cowardly
annihilation of my body.

To kill my body.

And to weather
the storms of the soul.

Yes but, after all, you have a son...

Exactly.

That is why I came to see you.

So that you can take responsibility
for his upbringing.

Me?!

Yes, you, Paulo.

You're the only friend I have left.

Alvaro.

You left him in Rome?

I never saw him again.

For how long?

Fifty-four years.

It isn't possible!
Venice, Rome.

Fifty-four years!

My cousin Paulo died two years later.

He entrusted the child to a friend.

The Marquis of Luso.

Guillotined in France by the Jacobins.

I lost track of you there.

I didn't care if you were alive,
or if you were dead.

I was picked up by Raymond
de Montfort, a retainer of Louis XVI.

He took me to Angouleme
and raised me like his own son.

What winding roads we had
to travel, my son, for us to meet again.

How did you know?

I recognized you as soon as I saw you
enter the antechamber

of the Count of Santa Barbara.

Why, I don't know. Don't ask me.

The way you carry yourself, perhaps.

Her look...

Silvina.

Your mother's look...

And her...

My mother?

Has accompanied me ever since.
At every meal.

I give it to you, my son.

My time has come...

There was a tightly sealed door
at Father Dinis's school,

and no one was allowed
to open it...

You know perfectly well
no one is allowed in here.

Forgive me, Father Dinis,
I didn't know.

You knew! Keep quiet!

Save what you have to say for
confession!

But as long as you're here,
I'll explain it to you...

This was my uniform as
a soldier of the Emperor.

This was the hat worn by "worldly man".

The gypsy, Sabine Cabra.

And here,

my mother's skull.

Now you know.

And don't forget:

Solidarity with all men.

This is my temple to sincerity.

That is all.

Father Dinis! Father Dinis!

I'm sorry.

And now, my friends, let's talk...

Father Dinis decided to send
me to France for my studies.

On the night before my departure,

I went to see my mother, through
the bars of the convent gate.

We both remained speechless.

We just kept looking at each
other for the entire visit,

as if we already knew it might
be the last time

we would ever see each other.

While I waited to board the ship
that would take me to France,

I noticed a man who couldn't
seem to take his eyes off me.

I could not have imagined
the decisive role

he had played in my past,

let alone what role he was
to play in my future.

In life, there are events and
coincidences of such extravagance

that no novelist would ever dare
to invent them...

It was one of those improbable events
that led Alberto de Magalhaes

to marry Eugenia, the former lover
of the Count of Santa Barbara...

Superb creature!

Careful, old man, her husband
is as jealous as a tiger.

And, as ferocious as two.

Speak of the devil...

But I know him.

Who? Alberto de Magalhaes?

That's what he calls himself
around here?

In Paris, his name
was Leopoldo Saavedra

and in Brussels, Tobias Navarro!

Are you serious?
When?

About three or four years ago.

Look, they're leaving. It appears
they didn't like the performance.

They didn't even stay
for the second act.

No, my friend, the performance
had nothing to do with it...

It appears our dear Alberto
de Magalhaes has seen a ghost.

Magnificent, yes indeed!
Who is she?

Elisa de Montfort.
The Duchess of Cliton.

Cliton, a French woman...

As French as one can be.

Is she the ghost?

In flesh and blood.

Our friend must have had
a fit when he saw her here.

Why, is there something
between them?

In Paris it was said they
had been lovers...

It seems the man behaved
like a genuine savage...

There was talk of tarnished
reputations and insults.

Shadowy stories about money.
There may have been bloodshed.

A duel of honor...
with one of her relatives.

What is certain is that our Leopoldo
Saavedra vanished rather suddenly,

and then in Brussels he was already
known as Tobias Navarro.

The lady Duchess
is also leaving.

Dear Baron de Sá,
what is your secret?

There isn't a beautiful woman
who escapes you.

Where did you meet that goddess
there whom you just approached?

To be honest, it was she
who approached me!

And she's not the first,
in any case...

She says we met in Paris!

Although I honestly don't remember...

My time there was spent
with so many pretty women!

She approached you, nevertheless,
and in what context?

I don't mean to be indiscreet!

She implored me to go and
visit her at the Isidro!

She has been lodging there.

Her request came under the pretext
of exchanging old memories...

"Souvenir, souvenir..."

But to me, something doesn't fit!
There's a mystery there.

Court, Royal Family,
Versailles...

Yet she wants to be known
as Madame Cliton,

like an ordinary "bourgeoisie".

I must hurry! It would be a sin
to miss the duet. We'll talk later.

I'm thinking of taking
all the artists here

away from the Sao Carlos Theatre.

Brazil must see these productions.

The second act is even better.

Yes, but unfortunately
I won't be able to stay.

Did you say the entire cast?

Yes, the chorus as well,
everyone.

That's a lot of people!

Brazil deserves it..

That woman is looking at you.

She has been following us
this whole time.

I had already noticed.

I knew her some time ago,
but I don't remember any more.

Shall we go?

Shall we escape?

- Good evening.
- Good evening.

Good evening.

A thousand pardons...

- I was told downstairs to come up.
- That was the order I gave.

I couldn't wait to see you.

I didn't come earlier,

because I feared I would be
bothering you.

I've been stifling my own
impatience since last night.

You exaggerate, I'm sure.
But I am flattered.

I thank you so much for
having come.

It brings me such happiness
to meet a familiar face

in a town where really
I know no one at all.

It would be an honor
to be your guide.

Please think of me as your servant.

I certainly intend to.

But it is I who shall be honored

to have as my guide
a man of your quality.

A very modest quality

compared to the charm and elegance
of Your Excellency...

It is my tea time.

I am counting on you
to keep me company...

I assure you, Madame,
in Portugal there is little conversation..

We are missing the words that
most captivate the ears.

Especially the Portuguese ladies.

In no way can one compare
them to French woman.

They lack the spirit, the spice,
the champagne!

I love the French!

The fortunate Parisian!

With this ardor you must have
had enormous success there.

If you permit me, Madame,

I can tell you without vanity that

I have taken fortresses that
would have made others desist.

I am most convinced.

I'm convinced just by watching
and hearing you.

But permit me to question you,
in return,

whether all the Portuguese
are as you say...

For example, the lady with whom
I saw you chatting yesterday

at the opera...

Ah, yes: Eugenia de Magalhaes.

Eugenia. Pretty name...

And his name?

His name?

His name...

Ah! Alberto.
Alberto de Magalhaes.

Alberto.

Eugenia and Alberto.

They're married, of course...

Of course...

For long?

About a year now.

I'd like to meet him.

The couple?

No. Just him.

Alberto de Magalhaes?!

Do you find that impossible?

For a man such as myself, Madame,
nothing is impossible.

But you find it "inconvenient".

For someone like Your Excellency,

"inconvenience" does not exist.

But your interest, let us say,
in this man...

How shall I put it?

Well, it intrigues me. That's all!

Interest?!

Let's not exaggerate.

What is of interest are
my devotions to Your Excellency.

For him, I have merely curiosity.

If it is simply to satisfy curiosity,
I will take you to him tomorrow.

I would prefer that you send him
to me alone.

I don't like to mix intimate friends
with vulgar acquaintances...

Your wishes are my commands.

Forgive me, I had to leave for a minute.
But I'm counting on your support.

You delight me, Madame.

You delight me.

- You delight me.
- I understood!

Money is in the high seas!

Hello, Alberto!

I'm sorry to bother you,
just a few seconds.

Of course, Baron.

Make yourself comfortable, have a seat.

I won't be long. I can't be late.
They're waiting for me on the corner.

Here it is! Someone implored me
to deliver a message...

An invitation, actually.

A friend of mine, a close friend,
very close.

A lady from high society...
French.

An acquaintance from Paris.
Madame Cliton.

The Duchess?

Do you know her?

The Duchess? Yes, of course...
Yes, the Duchess!

Intimately!
I know her intimately!

But don't tell me,
you also know her?

I've heard her name spoken.

I see, of course...

Well, I spoke to her about you.

I piqued her curiosity, I think.

In summary,
she would like to meet you.

Simple curiosity. No bad intentions.

You know the French:
free, direct, unprejudiced.

So there, she's at the Isidro.
She receives visits from five until seven.

Mister Magalhaes has arrived.

You may come in.

You wanted to see me?
Here I am.

What do you want of me.

To pay you what I owe you.

Nothing.

You owe me nothing.

Nor do I owe you anything.

We have both respected
the terms of our transaction.

The balance has been paid in full.

No. The balance is right there.

It has burned my fingers
and my soul for years.

Take it. it's yours.

Is that all?

Does she know?

Who?

Eugenia.
That is her name, isn't it?

I see that fool of a Baron has
spoken of her to you as well.

But no, she doesn't know.
And I don't want her to know.

Watch yourself,
if she learns of any of this!

There are chasms in my life
I don't want her dangling over.

Feelings you couldn't
possibly understand.

Get going, Elisa.
Return to France.

It's useless to try and see me again.

Forget me, as I have forgotten you.

The past doesn't rewrite itself,
and the dead never rise again.

You're not going to have me
eat lunch all alone?

What kind of Christian charity is that?

Nothing would give me more pleasure,
my child.

Unfortunately,
the Countess of Santa Barbara

is waiting for me
in the Convent of Odivelas.

I'm the only visitor she has left,
since her son left for France.

There is a foreign lady downstairs.
She's asking for you.

Foreign?
Did she give her name?

If she did, I didn't understand,
my lady.

She speaks in her own manner.

But I did understand that she's
a friend of Sir Alberto.

A friend?

Send her up.

Yes, Madame, excuse me.

How amusing...

She's the first acquaintance
I've met of Alberto's...

apart from you, of course, Father.

Well, I'll be going...

At least I leave you with company.

Sit down, please.

He's funny, your butler.

Poor man, he's ill.
Alberto took him under his wing.

He's like a son to him.

I hope you'll forgive this intrusion
by a stranger...

Not a complete stranger...

You know who I am?!

No. But I have seen you before.

Of course, the day before yesterday.
At the opera.

I thought you hadn't even noticed me...

It is impossible not to notice you.

Should I take that as a compliment?

Take it as you wish, Madame...

But I beg your pardon:
I didn't catch your name...

Elisa de Montfort.

And you are a friend of Alberto's...

How strange! He has never
spoken about you to me!

You haven't any reason
to worry,

our dealings are strictly commercial.

I am not worried, Madame de Montfort.
I have complete faith in my husband.

I don't doubt it. He's very good at
winning the confidence of women...

You still haven't told me
the purpose of your visit.

I have come to pay a debt.

A debt? To me?

To your husband.

I assume you don't live together

under the terms of separation
of property.

I prefer that you settle
your accounts with him directly.

I am not used to meddling in his affairs.

If I've understood correctly,
he is away.

Anyway, I was curious to see,
up close,

the woman who made Alberto
lay down is guard.

I have no regrets.

Your beauty adds further justice
to his great reputation in Europe.

Unfortunately for you,
it is not his only reputation...

But it won't take you long
to discover that for yourself.

If you haven't already...

From now on you may
count on my compassion.

Goodbye, Madame.

Madame! Your purse!

Take it, if you please.
I cannot accept it.

You are well obliged to.

Unless you attach it

by force around my neck...

Come in, Duchess, come in.

Do not fear me.

I wish you no ill will.

I am here on behalf
of Blanche de Montfort.

My mother...

My friend.
Sit down, my girl.

You knew her?
You knew my mother?

I was quite close to her.
She died in my arms.

But I recognize you!
I saw you this morning!

I saw you at that man's house...

Alberto de Magalhaes...
Or Leopoldo Saavedra, if you prefer...

You Know about all that?

I know almost everything, Duchess.
I know too much.

I would have preferred not
to know so much...

But who are you?

Call me Father Dinis,
young lady.

I've had other names,
just like Alberto de Magalhaes.

I've been other men.
But they are all dead.

They died at the same time
as those whom they held most dear...

Like your mother.
Like Blanche de Montfort.

I beg your pardon,
just one moment...

I'm not well...
I'm feeling dizzy...

It will pass. Just give me a moment...
I shall return immediately.

But what did she say to you?
What did she tell you?

Nothing! Apart from
what I've told you, nothing!

She referred only to the debt.
She never said what, or why.

She made insinuations.

I really don't know what
she meant at all...

But the worst was her bitterness!

The hatred I sensed in her voice!
Toward you, and toward me!

A certain desire to do us harm!

It's my fault.
I should have told you everything.

I should have told you.

No! I don't want to know!
I don't want to know anything!

Don't tell me anything,
I'm not interested!

It has nothing to do with us.
It's not a part of our life.

If you tell me,
it's as if it mattered,

or that it will matter.

Don't tell me anything.

Otherwise, she wins.

My fear is that she will hurt you.

No, stop!
Don't be afraid.

She can't do anything to me.

And if she did something to you...

I would kill her.

I would kill her!

I was born in Venice.

My parents had taken refuge there

to escape the scorn
of a wronged husband.

But their escape was not enough
to avoid God's punishment...

Two years later, before his death,

Don Paulo entrusted me,
in turn, to the Marquis of Luso,

who took me to France,

where he was appointed for a
diplomatic mission in the town of Caen.

It is there that we were surprised
by the taking of the Bastille,

and the bloodshed that followed...

His relationship with a citizen of
Caen, Charlotte Corday,

and the revolutionary fervor she
incited within him,

led the Marquis straight to the gallows.

I was finally taken into the care
of an old friend of the Marquis de Luso.

Your grandfather, Madame Duchess,
Raymond de Montfort...

Whom I never knew...

He welcomed me like a son.

And your father, Benoit de Montfort,

like a brother...

Benoit and I grew up together.

We discovered together,
little by little,

the mysteries of Nature.

We both fell in love the same day
with the same young lady:

Blanche de Clermont.
A descendant of kings,

she was the most modest
and most beautiful of all...

My mother, Blanche de Montfort...
I never knew her, either.

She was the most beautiful
and the most modest...

To us, she was an angel,
who had fallen to earth,

among men who could not speak
the language of Heaven...

Both of us had stolen a scarf from her,
secretly, without the other knowing.

They accompanied us,
close against our hearts,

through every campaign we led together
under the Emperor's command.

Montebello, Malta, Alexandria,
Aboukir. ..

Up to Portugal, as far as Buçaco,
with Masséna...

There, we both saved a man's life
together...

A man who would eventually be the ruin
of Benoit and Blanche:

Colonel Ernest Lacroze.

Hoist the flag, in front!

Halt!

To the left, turn!

To the rear! March!

Halt!

To the left, turn!

Prepare arms!

Aim!

Fire!

Ready,

Aim!

Long live the Emperor!

Colonel Ernest Lacroze,
of the Imperial Guard.

Five minutes more and our heads
would have been placed on a stake.

I owe you my life, gentlemen
and I will never forget it...

Nurse, quickly!
Come quickly, Nurse!

He lay between life and death.

During the entire time our troops
were retreating from Portugal,

after the defeats of Buçaco
and Torres Vedras...

Benoit de Montfort spent every
free moment he had by his side...

to the point of making me jealous...

He ended up convincing him
to come with us to the castle

during his recovery.

Thus building with his own hands,
the tragedy which was soon to come...

Benoit, come look!

You look like the spy
we caught behind the lines, in Aboukir.

With the same assassin's gaze!

Your guest has a curious way
of repaying your hospitality...

He spends his days with Blanche!

Soon, he'll be spending
his nights with her, too...

What a thought! That's absurd!
He does it out of kindness.

Gut of gratitude, really.

How naive, Benoit!

What a ridiculous thought!

Wake up, in the name of God!

Open your eyes, you idiot,
open your eyes!

Idiot.

Where did Benoit go?

I think he's in there.

Were you jealous, Father?

I was by far the more jealous
of the two of us.

My Lusitanian blood,
no doubt...

But it didn't take long
for Benoit to surpass my jealousy.

It's true I never missed
an opportunity to draw his attention

to Blanche and Ernest's behavior.

I don't see Mademoiselle Blanche...

I wouldn't want to go without
bidding her farewell. Did you warn her?

I told her you were leaving, yes.

But she feared she might
not be able to come.

Some story about dresses
ordered in Angouleme...

Women!

She should have left this morning
with her father.

But all of this is unimportant:
I will convey your respects to her.

A shame.

In fact, I scribbled a small note

just in case I didn't see her.

To thank her for the kindness

of her hospitality and for her company.

Would you be so kind?

Of course, you can count on me.

Thank you, my friend.
Thank you for everything.

I will not forget Buçaco. And I
will always remember Montfort.

Little by little, Benoit's jealousy
became obsessive.

Under the pretext of being helpful,

he kept trying to convince the
Emperor to give Colonel Lacroze

the command of a garrison lost
at the far end of Calabria.

Far from everything.
And, most of all, from Blanche...

Careful, Jerome,
don't set the castle on fire!

No danger, my commander.

Even the English,
couldn't manage to burn it down.

It was made the old-fashioned way.

It won't catch fire.

Blanche...

The departure of Ernest Lacroze
did not cause many consequences

to my relationship with
Blanche de Clermont...

Come see

Only that from then on,
instead of the colonel,

It was Benoit
who monopolized her company...

There he is, spying on us.

You ought to kiss me,

just to make him burst with jealousy.

Come closer!

I don't want him to die.

And I don't want to kiss you.

I resigned myself
little by little, to the fact

that they would end up
getting married.

And though that made me suffer,

it was more bearable than thinking
she might marry someone else.

A foreigner.

Like Ernest Lacroze or worse!

You are tired, Father.

Would you like to rest?

No, my girl, it's not fatigue...

it's the pain of recalling that moment...

when Benoit de Montfort sold his soul
in exchange for Blanche de Clermont...

It was on that day
that everything changed.

It was then that he decided
to sacrifice everything.

His friends, his honor, and with one
sole purpose: to have Blanche.

Later, I learned that he had
intercepted all the letters,

that colonel Lacroze
had sent to Blanche.

Have you not heard more news
of Colonel Lacroze?

No.

That's strange.
Don't you think?

What's strange about it?

Military life is like that, you know.

Made up of meetings and separations.

Today here, tomorrow over there.

From battle to battle, garrison
to garrison, country to country...

For them it's best not to become
attached to anything.

That was not how I saw him.
Quite the contrary.

He left me the memory
of a man faithful in friendship,

dedicated, sincere, attentive,
and accountable...

Enough, that's sufficient, stop!

That is not a man, you describe.
That is "Prince Charming"!

Instead, admit that he courted you.

That is to say,

he played the role he thought
would be best to seduce you.

It's true: he courted me.

But he wasn't playing any role.

He was sincere.

I know he was sincere.

Sincere to the point of not
seeing you before he left,

of leaving without a word of farewell?

Blanche,

did something happen
between you?

I did not delude myself

The Emperor had just given
Benoit the title of Duke.

Something happened.

I was just an orphan.

Without a father, a mother,
or even a country.

Blanche's father, Richard de Clermont,

kept harassing
her for a decision.

And even the Emperor, they had said,
wanted this marriage.

It's not hot today.

Benoit's obstinacy,
her father's persistence,

and the will of the Emperor himself
toppled Blanche's resistance all together.

But the news of Lacroze's suicide
had something to do with her decision.

In spite of that,
your mother added a condition

that the ceremony would take place
without any splendor. And in intimacy.

There was no banquet.
Nor a honeymoon...

Blanche!

Come back! Blanche!

Blanche, where are you going?

I'm going to the hunting lodge.

I need to be alone.

Blanche!

Poor wedding.

Poor mother.

My poor family.

With these origins,
it's not surprising

that my whole life
has been branded by the iron of evil.

That iron is the fate of everyone,
my girl.

Perhaps, Father.

But then, it's the distribution
that is not done fairly.

Did you see her very much,
after the wedding?

Did you speak with her?

Unfortunately, no.

I left the castle of Montfort
that same day.

There was nothing that kept me
there any longer.

Benoit was no longer the same
and old Raymond was almost senile.

I was overtaken by the desire
to return to Portugal,

to strengthen my bond with
the country of my ancestors,

which I had until now, only glimpsed.

But I was in no hurry.

I used the occasion to get to know
France better.

And to sell off the few possessions
I owned here and there...

The months went by.

I found myself in Bordeaux,

when I received news that Blanche
had just given birth to twins.

You, Madame Duchess,
and your brother, Arthur.

I couldn 't resist the temptation
to return.

Good old Sebastiao!

I knew you'd come back.

They all end up coming back
sooner or later.

She will as well, you'll see.

Your room is just as you had left it.
Get yourself settled in.

But it's best if you take
your bag up yourself.

We are lacking staff at the moment...

Oh!

Old Raymond has passed away.

In his sleep. He didn't suffer.

I inherited his armchair.

It's quite practical.
You'll have to try it.

And Blanche?

And the children?

Madame de Montfort makes
her home apart from mine.

She's with the children.

When she got pregnant, she
moved into the hunting lodge.

It seems this whole business
was too painful for her.

Well, that is what she says.

But I know the real reason...

it's there that they meet.

Who?

She meets with the living-dead.
I saw him.

But whom?
Whom did you see?

The brave colonel.

Lacroze?

The fearless suicide.

I saw him alive!

Where?

Right near here.
I will show you tonight.

But sit down, sit down.

Tell me your stories...

Later.

Right now I'm going to see Blanche,
and the children.

I'll be right back.

That's it, go ahead!

Go on, go and see them!

Sebastiao!

Come.

You can do me a big favor.

Take off my boots for me.

What?

My boots.

Good morning.

I am a friend
of Madame de Montfort's...

Madame is not here.
She has gone to see her father.

She will only be back tonight.

Is he one of the twins?

Oh, no, this one here, he's mine.
The children are with Madame.

Thank you.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Benoit! Benoit!

Madame? Where is she?

Sir! She is inside.
I haven't seen her...

And the children?

The children stayed with
Madame's father!

She died in my arms, she never
regained consciousness.

She hadn't the slightest trace
of burns on her entire body.

If you ever speak to my wife again.
I'll smash you like a worm.

Knife-eater!

Remember Knife-eater,
Alberto de Magalhaes!

Remember the assassin!

Brother...

All right, brother...

Thank you, brother.

You're welcome, brother.

I'm no brother to any little priest.

What was this miracle,
Father?

Renounce your vengeance, Duchess.

It can only lead you into despair.

Go back to France.

Forgive and forget.

I will do what you want, Father Dinis_

I will go back to France tomorrow.

But, I do not forgive.

I do not forget.
I do not renounce.

Upon my return to Lisbon,

I paid a visit to my neighbor,
the Viscount of Armagnac,

in the hopes of distracting myself

from the obsession
that had tormented me.

Unfortunately, I was introduced

to one of his young friends,
Pedro da Silva,

a Portuguese gentleman
who would reimmerse me, even further...

I thought you were still in Paris,
my dear Viscount.

I arrived just two days ago,
Duchess.

If you please.

I had intended to go
and pay you my respects today even...

I shall receive you
with pleasure.

Sit down.

Oh, no, I don't have time.

To make up for it, however,
can I count on you for tea?

I shall not miss it.

Your friend will be welcome,
of course.

Who is she?

Elisa de Montfort. Duchesse de Cliton.
A neighbor.

She's lived as a recluse in Montfort
for the past three years.

She practically never
leaves the castle.

This is the first time
I've seen her outdoors.

She doesn't visit anyone.

She doesn't receive a living soul.

And she dresses in black...
A romantic?

I would say more melancholic
than romantic...

Melancholic? Why?

The secrets of a proud
and offended woman.

A fatal passion?

This is what they say...
In her youth, she had been

one of the ornaments
in Charles X's salons.

It was the King himself
who wed her to the Duke of Cliton...

She is married?

Oh, not quite.

The duke soon left
her a widow and in ruin.

They said that afterwards she found
a mysterious man, a foreigner...

A shadowy story that ended with
the death of her twin brother in a duel.

After which, she came here...
Isolated. Alone.

Always sad.

Like a character in a novel
by Radcliffe.

I can't wait to see her again.

Let's go then, my dear Pedro.

I wouldn't want you to die of
impatience...

Thank you.

No, no, no! No!

Such rain!

To think that it was the blue sky
that you had promised me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me...

I'll go see what is going on.

Excuse me...

I'm sorry.

I don't feel very well.

I'm going to have to leave you.

We must leave.

Let's go?

I'll explain later.

Don't deny it.

I'm sure she found me provincial,
awkward, spiritless...

On the contrary, my dear Pedro.

I am convinced that you interest
and intrigue her.

The looks she gave you

while you weren't looking...
They don't deceive!

Come in.

She merely addressed
a single word toward me.

Exactly. To provoke you.

There is nothing like the feigned
indifference

of a woman to excite a man's desire.

I see your eyes in the warm twilight...

Shit...

I see...
I see your eyes in the twilight warm

Shit...

For a week,
it rained constantly.

And no news of the Duchess of Cliton,
although I thought of her day and night...

Fallen into oblivion...
No, No!

Policarpo, help me.

I saw your eyes in the cold twilight.
It was in a sad and morbid castle.

At the top of a staircase,

one day when forgetfulness
had taken everything away

except for your stern gaze...

But what a charming thing,

seeing your limpid eyes
in the castle night.

Our livid bed, I am wounded
by the menacing stare

of the sad and watchful pupils
in your eyes?

I suddenly see the solitary figure of a
lunar and yawning woman,

who rises, so dignified,
from the waters.

I spent hours there,
hoping to see her leave,

not knowing if I'd have the courage
to approach her...

And without daring to knock on that door...

I finally couldn't resist,

I brought her the sonnet
I had decided not to show her.

That's what youth is all about.
Naivete and arrogance.

She returned it to me the same day,
with a short note...

I am returning your verses to you.

Give them to someone your own age

who deserves them much more than /_

It would be unusual for any man of mine

to have a pure enough
soul to understand them.

The pain, the humiliation,
was unbearable...

Come in!

I wanted to die, to run away,
to disappear forever...

Madame de Montfort.

Forgive me!
I am unforgivable.

I didn't want to offend you,
I swear. Pardon me.

How could I do that to you?
Tell me you'll forgive me.

Forgive you?

It is I who should be
asking forgiveness from you!

To think that I dared

I didn't want to, believe me...

I shouldn't have done it!

No, no! It's me alone!
It is I who am unforgivable!

Don't say that, I beg you!

But you are soaked!

How long have you been in the rain?
Come in, sit down, please.

No, I can't.

So, it's here that you write your poems?

How charming...

What is that?

A gift from my mother.

It's pretty.

Wait! I have an idea!

Come to the castle this evening.

At whatever time you want.
I will be waiting for you.

I'll explain everything, you'll see...

And bring the poem.

I beg you. Bring it to me.

To prove to me that you forgive me...

Mister da Silva has arrived.

Thank you.

I must leave.

He thinks I am at Angouleme.

Go out through there.

I saw you outside, in the rain

and I burned
with the desire to call you,

to go find you,
to shelter you in my arms...

Why didn't you do it?

Why didn't you call me?

Because I didn't know
if I had the right...

Who would refuse it?

You are free, Elisa.
As free as I am.

No, Pedro, I'm not free.

I'm a prisoner of the scruples
of my conscience

and the stain I have on my heart.

I don't have the right to be yours.

I don't understand you.
You talk in riddles.

You're so young!

Your verses are so innocent,

so clear, so pure...

They made me feel so bad...

Bad? Why?

They only meant well...

They took me back to a time
when I was also pure,

good and happy...

Before they made me
unhappy and nasty.

Elisa! Not nasty!

One could make you sad.
But not nasty!

My poor Pedro, if you knew!

If you knew the desires of death,

the thirst for blood that fill me
for nights on end!

The wishes for vengeance
that suffocate my heart

to the point of preventing it from
beating,

Or allowing myself to be
paralyzed for days...

In the darkest despair
and impotent rage...

That is how I have lived
for years, Pedro.

Since the day they robbed me
of my honor,

and of the life of my only brother.

This man...

The foreigner?

They spoke to you about him!
They told you...

Vaguely.

They told you he is Portuguese,
like you?

No!

What is his name?

He has had many names.

Right now, he calls himself
Alberto de Magalhaes.

Despite my insistence,

Elisa categorically refused
to give any more details

about the shadowy story that
had destroyed her life,

Yet as the night went on,

it became ever clearer to me that
that man's existence

was the only obstacle
to our happiness...

When the day came,
my decision had been made,

I would return to Lisbon to avenge
the honor of the Duchess of Cliton

and the death of her only brother...

Back at the estate, a letter from
Portugal awaited me,

announcing the death of my mother,

victim of the cholera epidemic that
had spread throughout the country.

By the cruel irony of fortune,
my decision to return to Lisbon

was now painfully justified.

Yes?

There is a gentlemen here
with a foreign air

and I told him you wouldn't
receive anyone, but he insisted.

He says he is an emissary
on behalf of Artur de Montfort.

He wrote his name here...

What kind of bad joke is this?

Is your Excellency the emissary
of Artur de Montfort?

I am!

Artur de Montfort!!

He died nine years ago!

Indeed!

Then I gather your Excellency
has come from the other world!

Are things well around there?

There the murderers rest...

Here, the murderers
await their hour...

I came precisely to demand
that the murderer of Artur de Montfort

answers me on the field of honor,
with weapons in hand.

Demand!

With what right?

You probably never knew poor Artur.

You couldn't have been more than ten
years old when he left us...

But perhaps you know his sister,

Elisa de Montfort,

the Duchess of Cliton...

Am I mistaken?

I have no intention of talking
about my personal acquaintances...

I already told you why I have come.

I leave the choice of arms up to you...

And I await your response.

Very well!

If you insist!

I'm just going to send you
my witnesses.

That is, if you'd be so kind
as to give me your address!

It's written on the card
I sent to you...

The Isidro, an excellent hotel!
A wise choice...

Come here!

Arms!

Considering that neither of us
had yet been wounded,

upon my insistence and despite
Alberto 's resistance,

it was decided to continue
our duel with pistols...

Unfortunately, my dear friend,

one cannot duck bullets
the way one ducks a sword.

One of us will end up
staying here forever.

Isn't that the idea?

In theory, yes!

And given that I can't dissuade you
to put a stop to this nonsense,

I find myself forced to suggest

that we have other means
placed at our disposal.

I don't understand.

You will understand...

I'm talking about where
I should give the money

that Father Dinis left me
to administer on your behalf.

On my behalf?

Father Dinis...
You knew him?

Strange, some things in life...

I knew Father Dinis.

And I knew you, Don Pedro.

I practically saw you being born...

I fear my dear gentlemen...

I feel we must change
the agenda...

I've just spoken to
my valiant opponent,

and told him some things

that have changed his mind
about continuing this duel.

If he agrees, I propose to postpone
this duel until a later date.

If it's not considered dishonorable
on my part...

No. Not at all...

isn't that true, gentlemen?

Come out from there,
Don Pedro.

Suddenly, I felt lost.

I was once again the Joao
of Father Dinis's school,

before I ever found my mother
or knew my name, or my history.

A mere puppet, manipulated
by invisible hands

at the mercy of some other will...

I didn't know what to do,
or what decision to make.

Everything he had told me was more
than convincing,

as it corresponded point by point to
what I already knew

from Father Dinis' intervention
to save my life

to the role played by Alberto himself

in defending the reputation
of my mother against her slanderers...

But despite my insistence,
he refused to reveal the origin

of the fortune he administered on my
behalf at the request of Father Dinis.

I met Elisa de Montfort, in Paris,

at a time when nothing could
make me resist satisfying my whims.

She had just lost the husband who
had decimated her fortune.

She was, in those days,
a dangerous woman

who acted like she wanted
to avenge herself in life,

and would use romance to crush
the self-esteem of several me-n

and several women.

It was said she had provoked six duels.

To me at the time, she was
an irresistible challenge...

It started as a frivolous game,
and ended as a sordid bourgeois drama...

You wanted to see me?

I am at your disposal.

Just now, I heard you say that
every man has his price.

Do you truly believe that?

Yes, I believe it.

That makes you laugh.

Bonaparte thought the same thing
and that didn't go too well for him.

I wasn't talking about politics.

Nor of war.

Even less.

So, what were you talking about?

I was talking about business.

And of love.

Yes...of love.

You mean to say that
I also have a price?

Yes Madame.

How much?

Fifty thousand.

Is that all?
In that case, for only one day...

One night.

One hundred thousand.

Eighty.

Done!

I will bring the contract
this afternoon.

Even now, I still ask myself
if she accepted the challenge

out of a real passion
for the game,

or merely for the love of money.

I had the contract written up
and sent it to her.

She came that same night to my hotel...

If you please, Madame.

The contract. Signed.

She returned the signed contract
to me,

and left the next morning
with the 80 thousand francs

which I had most discreetly
placed in her bag.

The game should have ended there.

But she returned the next night,

and the one after that,

and the one after that...

After a week she wanted
to give me my money back.

For her it was no longer a game,

It became serious...
I refused.

At that time,

the most serious thing
was precisely the game...

I changed hotels, she found me.

I gave orders for her not to be
allowed to enter,

and she left me the 80 thousand francs
at the reception desk,

with a note I never read.
I sent them back and moved again,

this time to an obscure inn
in a populated neighborhood.

Stop, please!

I'll walk from here.

In desperation,
she sent her twin brother,

Artur de Montfort,

And since then, she regularly
sends someone

no matter where I am,
with the mission of her vengeance.

The last time, she came herself
I guess that with time,

the thirst for vengeance
became her only reason to live...

At her grave, I couldn't even
cry for my mother,

whom I had seen so little
while she lived,

Angela de Lima,
Countess of Santa Barbara,

rested in an anonymous grave,
together with scores of wretches

victims like herself of the cholera
epidemic...

Is someone there?

Her poor name was not anywhere
to be seen.

Can I help you?

Oh, sir, please...

Are we in the eastern part
of the cemetery?

Yes...We're in the right place...
it's here...

Thank you very much.

I'm looking for the mausoleum
where my daughter is...

Mausoleum?

My friends assure me it is monumental.

My friends say it is the most beautiful
in the entire cemetery...

I'm unable to see it.

With the last money left from
my fortune,

I had this mausoleum built...

Would you be so kind
as to describe it to me?

It's beautiful, isn't it?

I don't know if I would be able...

I am the Marquis of Montezelos.
What is your name?

I am a simple student, Marquis...

my mother died and
I came to visit her...

So your mother is also
in a mausoleum, right?

No, Marquis, my mother is in
a common pauper's grave...

Poor woman.

Had I mentioned to you that
I was a bad father?

No. I hadn't.

This head of mine,
and now, as you see I am a beggar,

and now that we're having
this conversation,

would you happen to have a small coin,
for the love of God?

Of course...

Thank you very much...

Marquis, your friends
are waiting for you...

Poor Marquis.

He's lost his mind...

The accident...

He had an accident?

It wasn't an accident...
more of a failed suicide attempt...

His daughter's dishonor...

What to us are the things of life,
are enormous tragedies to the nobility...

He fired the shot as they left the Mass.

He didn't kill himself,
but he was blinded.

He wasted away the fortune
and people were moved by this sadness.

They were moved by a beggar Marquis
and still give him a lot of money.

That's the blessing of beggars...

Even in disgrace,

the nobles are favored.

And the mausoleum?

The mausoleum doesn't exist.
It was an invention of the Marquis...

Where are you , Manuel?

I'm here, Marquis.

I'll be right there!

Please excuse me...

I've heard that Alberto de Magalhaes
has enjoyed excellent health.

You lacked courage my dear.

And I, whose heart you once possessed...

My life no longer made any sense.

My only thought was to disappear,
to lose myself quickly, completely,

and without a trace...

I caught the first boat I found,
bound for Tangiers,

which allowed me to board for the coins
I still had in my pocket...

One soon discovers
that it is not difficult

to disappear from the eyes of others,

but that our own eyes follow us
wherever we go.

I continued to travel randomly,
aimlessly, to lose myself

I don't know how,

but the representatives
of Alberto Magalhaes

never lost my trail

and I continued to regularly receive
the money intended for me.

My footsteps have finally led me here.

I don't think I can go any further.

My condition doesn't allow me
many illusions.

Excuse me,

could you kindly direct me to an inn
that is far from the center of town?

That won't be easy.
Most of our inns are right in the center.

In that case, I'll have to settle
for the closest.

This is the closest.

Thank you.

I was fifteen years old
and I didn't know who I was at all...

Sometimes, the others would ask me
if I was Father Dinis' son...

I didn't know how to answer them.

They all had surnames...

Four, five, even more...

I was just "Joao."

Unlike the others,

I went on no outings,

had no holidays, received no presents.

I don't know how long had passed
between the time I lost consciousness...

and the moment
I opened my eyes again...

I thought I had dreamt it all.

Dona Antonia...

Help him lie down.

Father Dinis!

He is cold.

We'd better find a doctor!
I'll order the coach to be readied.