All language subtitles for Scarlet & Black episode 2 4 1993 BBC mini series The Red and The Black Stendhal

differentiate Ray Terry's

He says the king visited, resulted in life's centuries behavior.

I consider that an understatement that the time was positively back-eat.

Look, at least Mr. Falco has the grace not to mention that idiot and Juarez lack of horsemanship.

Who brought this?

A boy.

A boy what boy?

Just a boy, sir.

What's wrong?

Leave the child.

You sir, I had to teach. What to play?

There's your soul function here to teach.

He knows.

He knows.

They're exactly as I say.

Look, you're a little famous known to me.

From the lingering affection I bear you, I beg you to announce the little.

Pessent. Yes, peasant.

Sir, here's an abomination to him.

Well, pressed into my hands on my right about. One thing I must demand for my own reputation is that you dismiss the boys to where I'll forthwith.

My worthy of your love.

Am I done?

Why do you delay?

I'm not done.

Why do you delay?

I'm not done.

Am I done?

Why do you delay? Call the boy, pay him off with a few francs.

Not perhaps trifle unjust. If the man is as innocent in all this, is he?

You can easily find another post.

Both Miss Yvalinor, for example.

Yvalinor, my dear, let's not be too hist.

If you don't dismiss him, I will. This instant.

You really want him gone?

I've held out peasant and little esteem since you refused to marry Elisa.

Sir Vallinor.

Shit, what? Who told you that? Elisa and Vallinor?

Sir, that is an old tale.

One that I'm not aware of.

Sir Vallinor is most liberal in his affections. They cannot be a woman in the region who has not received letters of admiration from that particular blood.

Letters? Vallinor has written you letters?

Frequently.

Show them me immediately.

Another day when you are more yourself.

Now, I command it.

I do not wish to be the cause of discontent between you and our prison governor.

Swear them.

I will swear nothing.

Where are they?

In my desk.

But I'll not surrender the key until you...

You will not determine, Mother.

Go pay call on the survivor.

Leave now.

Please.

Please, I have written on the same paper as my letter.

Your letter?

You too have received a letter.

And yet you did not speak of this to me.

Sir, is there anything in those to hint that I so much as vouch saved Mr. Vallinor a smile?

Not yet.

You can conceive that I with some peasants brat.

I'll challenge the village with you.

And confirm the rumours.

Thank you, sir.

You take so great a care of my honour.

What about to do?

Dismiss the boy!

Excuse me.

Where have you been, sir?

With Mr. Vallinor.

Where?

He had invited me to call.

To this arm?

He very kindly extended the invitation to dinner.

And did you have an agreeable time, sir?

Most.

All this to destroy me and gain the services of my servant.

No.

I'll not fall for Vallinor's little trap.

Aah!

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Children?

Children?

Children?

Children?

You.

I've come to say goodbye, Julian. It's over for me now. I've died my last profession.

How could they, Father?

I've not come for sympathy, but to try to save you.

From what, Master?

People believe we priests hear everything first. No, the world merely confesses to us

what it already knows. Our only hope is that sometimes there's a moment to intervene

before it acts upon its knowledge. You know, say nothing, I want no more confessions.

I have arranged an old friend there, Beppe Ra. You are to enter his seminary at Bazarso

immediately. I'm not sure of the wisdom of this course, but it is all I can do to save

you from the wrath of the world. Father?

No, don't.

This is a spiritual question. I've ever been more than cherished to come between a man

of his god. The wisdom is not running to Bana. And it does resolve your particular desire

as well, man.

Oh, no.

scratched Which means four injection

My purgatory, priest's prayers and false piety, is there no other way forward for a man of

courage than on his bended knees?

Am I a coward?

It is no coward, is served to prepare oneself for the act of war.

Here is where the power lies now.

Take heart, sir.

A man of destiny will not remain here long.

I am Sir Pierre-Ad, Director of this seminary.

And you, sir, are you, sir, are you, sir?

I am Sir Pierre-Ad, sir.

Have you given me the favor, sir?

Are you given the favor?

No, sir.

Then what was the cause?

Beware smiling, beautiful faces.

They can be the most falsehood, the theatre of duplicity.

Truth says, austere.

Understand me?

Yes, Father.

Name your sentence.

Take love with your own, I was the world's, it was a coward.

Now that is true.

Why?

Why doesn't she write to me?

No, that is fair.

She deserted me as your wife, did you?

No, that is fair.

No one tells me how to survive through this.

I do not answer my letters.

It adds to my own, in a way that nothing else could.

I can face damnation, but it'd be unloved.

The past few months have been beyond pain.

Pain suggests at least the possibility of pleasure.

If only in memory.

Heaven may perhaps permit me not to hate the author of my shame.

All my shall always hold more precious than the entire world, but myself.

The sacrifice is made.

I dedicate myself to the salvation of those to whom I am found, and those who held so dear.

The sacrifice is not made, as you can see without tears.

How will she?

It's true.

At least the boy has not loved a woman who imparted.

This much can be hidden.

The government has no real will or determinant power.

So that delegated to it by God's figure on earth.

So serve not a weak and expected war.

Power of the church knows no bounds.

Neither does the pope's generous banjo towards his servants.

Why, my friends?

I have learned 19 parishes, where the priest's rewards were greater than those of some cities.

And not only in his feast, but also in fact gay bonds.

Sausage meets the endless stream of butter, eggs, milk, delicious delicacies.

In such places the puree, rule supreme, no good dinner would pass without his presence.

Not your taste, Miss Yusser-El.

I find Cape on not good enough for you then.

Mr. Luther?

You were asked a question, brother.

How do you not deem us worthy of your wit?

I am as fond of Cape on as the next.

And sausage?

Tell us how you love sausage.

I worship sausage.

For me, as it is with you, sausage is my very sacrament.

The

ong wisdomOK.

Yah Celtic.

I signed under the reduced Miracle, sprays.

You plan of asking our

will?

I also request that during the day I not be left out of your sight for one moment.

I'm afraid of the storytellers at the seminary, yes?

To work, my friend.

To work?

Are you afraid of heights?

Fail.

Thank you.

He is representing

The treasures of the south.

Guard the treasures.

This is the owl when the church is empty.

The evens still the lace trimmings.

You can all hide yourself.

You'll wear confessionals.

That's where the women like to hide.

I feel married with a rose.

I'll do this with you.

Let's not be honest.

I'll do this with you.

I'll do this with you.

For a citizen.

I'll do this with you.

I'll do this with you.

Sometimes.

That's just the food I love.

Jesus.

I want you very much.

For you for a citizen.

I want you very much.

Go. Go. Don't you understand?

I love you, no shame.

Are you faint, my son?

Too much exertion.

But you have done well, my son.

Come.

Why should you feel shame?

He meant an oh-harm?

She obviously feels that.

Then she betrays your love, sir.

Don't misdirect your anger, sir.

They come from large and starving families.

Don't judge them for wearing black-took-aimed-only-bread.

They do not besmirch the dignity of the church, but are exactly what it wants.

An army that asks no questions, but advances on its belly.

Don't look to what the troops are doing, but to what the generals intend.

What is there, Vipirad?

Thank you for your concern.

I will not forget it.

I am not in ill health, though.

We may have it, sir.

But I will soon be forced to leave here as punishment for my crime.

If crime had been to stand against intrigue and instill intelligence in my students in preference

to indulgence, if in any way I might be of any service.

There is very little left in my power.

But if you head the list of the examinations, I intend conferring on you the post of New Testament tutor.

At least, might save you from the hounds.

What are you doing?

F

Trust in God, not in man. Go.

Father, I will not disappoint you.

Ego Alpha at Omega, Primus at Novismus,

Grachipium at Phineas,

Beate, Ki, Lavant, Stola, Sous,

Uch, Sip, Potestas, Yorum, Superlingum, Vitai,

and Portis in Trent and Chivatata.

Forest Cannons at Venerfeche, at Empurice, at Homucide,

Edolus Servientes, at Omlys, Ki, Amat, at Fachitmondakium.

That's your sorrel we are impressed with your knowledge of Latin in the Scriptures.

Indeed, we are.

However, me and Abbe de Filleur, I am nothing but admiration.

It is the old landscape of a golden age limited only to the Scriptures.

Does it not include the great poets and thinkers of that time?

What a virgin.

Forest?

Miss Youssarell, have we now tracked down the borders of your learning?

In Primus Lucanas Aper, Lene Field Oistro Captus,

Ut Awebat Cannae Pater, Achria Sorkum Rapula, Lech Tukai, Radikeys,

Kualia Lasum Perwannon Stomakum, Sisar, Alec, Fakulokor.

Why stop, my friend?

Miss Youssarell recites from Horace of a splendid meal, with wild boar,

turnips, lettuces, radishes, such things as wet-ajaded appetite.

No doubt a prelude to some Roman orgy.

And do you know by heart the love poems of this pagan author?

Lord Jule, Alexander Man, Old Garah,

Krishna Nol, Julian Sarell, Julian Sarell,

Julian Sarell, Julian Sarell,

Julian Sarell, Julian Sarell, Julian Sarell,

In a room full of graves, we wanted to listen to the last one.

This is the fruit of eggman, Jesus.

How is it?

A friend.

Why do you hold me?

Because you betrayed our love.

Why? Why did you never write?

Did I love me nothing to you?

I wrote every day for months.

You're just too late to speak of this.

A priest that taught me to repent my love.

No.

Yes. I'll leave me to my pen and scold you then.

I'm beyond your touch now.

Is it that easy?

That I will leave.

And I swear to go where you'll never have to see me again.

I'll leave for Paris.

Paris.

Yes, my one true friend is my near post there.

Paris.

You come back just to torment me.

Dafu!

Forgive me.

I never drunk my love would be a curse.

Noone stopped.

Imbudsman me.

Walking on the kitchen and I'd never ever

felt alone.

St Eyere least remind me that he fuckin'

married

one person.

You're against my spirit.

A priest visits regularly to guide my soul.

We'll spend so much time watching us both, June.

Why? Are we so important?

I don't want to leave.

Hide me in your closet. Feed me from your hand.

Pray the children outside the window. I want to see how much they've grown.

Touch me.

I've always watched.

Watched everywhere.

Why do you love this dog enough?

You can ask both. Go.

I will be.

You have a love beyond. Go.

Come on.

Confess nothing. Confess nothing.

Retreaters never did an infomerite.

Go.

You are about to work in one of the most powerful houses in Paris.

Julian.

Father?

The Machia de la Moel is a man of considerable influence.

Here, out of here. Don't you think I'm back?

But he's also, and possessed by Caprice, which is the main reason that we are both under his patronage.

It am users him to raise up the victims of his old enemy, the Abedee Philaire.

Beyond that, however, we will have to prove our worth.

He seeks us a secretary, a man he can trust.

I have personally vouched for your sincerity.

I would also caution you to be wary of the family.

While their ancestors fought in the crusades, he was a merely carpenter.

They are bound to look down on you.

So it seems to me I'm not long for Paris.

There is a hope of advancement for men like us, without the patronage of the great nobles.

However, if life amongst these Caprice souls becomes an endurable company, I will share my living in for you.

So my father hates a myth from the cradle.

I've always considered that my greatest misfortune.

However, I shall no longer complain.

Now I've found a true father in you.

Speak not a fortune.

I need a provident.

They hide behind high walls.

They clear a revolution so much.

That is the one question never to be voiced.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Not you, sir.

What are you doing here?

I thought...

No, sir.

You did not think.

Sit.

I am surrounded by sycophants, Monsieur Samuel.

I am assured you will not add to the ranks, in which case you constitute a divine blessing.

Copy these letters.

I understand you have a prodigious memory.

In a month, I expect you to know they're varying forms by heart, and to be able to write variants of them, with only the smallest directions from me.

Is this possible?

Yes, sir.

Mac Crouper.

I omitted to mention that for dinner, you must dress.

Stocking, sir.

Respect yourself, my friend.

I guess.

I'll tell you.

Monsieur Samuel.

My wife.

Marquis de la Mo.

The Bishop of Agra.

My very good friend, the Academician, Monsieur Samuel, is Johnny.

My wife, Monsieur Tambo, his nephew, you already...

Ah!

The contact, Monsieur Samuel.

A super-influenced and both my children.

Where are they?

Late as usual.

We will not wait.

I'm not my father.

I wear this as your sister.

I'm not my sister's keeper, sir.

And pity any man who would be.

Monsieur Samuel, my new secretary.

I ask you to watch over him.

It'll be my pleasure, sir.

Let us lay open the heart of the question.

Does a man create a poetry out of a state of leisure, wherein he may write from a sense of personal joy, fulfillment, or from the very imperative of survival, the need to earn his daily bread?

Ease creates poetry, vocations simply manufacture verse.

Wasn't not d'laffon ten and chapao engaged in the act of self-diversion, but what if the British poet Loyn satty, who never composed the line except for gain?

One can hardly say that diminished his worth.

He was a far lesser poet than the man that he'd reduced.

And whom would that be, madamoiselle?

The great Lord Byron.

Matilda.

Forgive me, mother, I was deep in contemplation.

Let us anchor ourselves to the classic poets, where there is perhaps less debate on their individual merits.

But we know precious little of their lives.

Horace, for example.

Was he rich man or poor?

Did he write to eat or eat to write?

Julian?

The word is that you are something of a classical scholar yourself, Monsieur Sorel.

Or is your knowledge merely limited to scripture?

Perhaps those profane poets hold no interest for you.

Sibane tenove, scurantes specium prebeire, profesus amicum utumotrona meritrichi, despar, errit, aqua, discolores scurade.

This scholar and video scurade, the stab at amicus, es tick de vercium vito viteum propemius, asparatus agrestis, and inculkinagravisque.

Qui, ese commandant ton socute, d'etrebus atris, dum vault le bertestici, mira veracue virtus.

Whether Horace wrote for pleasure or for profit, I cannot say. It is my belief, however, he wrote out of a search for virtue.

Last love, Julian, felt like old campaigns. The outcome couldn't ever be changed.

Miss Yermadam, Sankler.

Your prophecy was correct, my friend. The boy is both diligent, highly intelligent, ever-trivalled, solemn. He's hardly left for library since he arrived.

And I feel he finds the leading somewhat painful for his pious soul.

Then perhaps we should relieve him of his suffering and ourselves of embarrassing.

Certainly not, my dear. Father Pira and I are set to see how he might shine. With a little polish.

Miss Yermadam, spare me more petitions?

Miss Yermadam, he has left off his wake to show us his learned brow. We're doubt he's open to secure the lesions on Earth.

The fellow deals in millions. Why does he come here to suffer my father's jibes? The other day he shouted at him, how many friends have you betrayed today, my dear, dear, dear.

Sir, the man is deceitful. Who is not? Miss Yer sorrel, enlighten me.

What is the height of the citadel at Bezarasau? Is it higher than that of Montmartre?

This year, the Daron battle? Well, I think the Baron battle is a ridiculous name.

A den of villain?

Father, is there no way to be spared this? I was less bored at the seminary.

You must not expect intellectual distinction. No one here would have the bad praise to discuss any topic of merit aside from personal advancement.

Let me take you to a place you might find more congenial.

What an ugly man.

Why? Why is there no political vision? Why are we cursed with the deadness of aspiration?

The reason is very simple. In the last 14 or 15 years since the so-called restoration, the powers have sought to put back the clock.

The petty have returned to possess the world. Men of meager spirit who count life and love only in coins.

It happens not just here, but across Europe. We've entered an epoch without heart, devoid of soul. That is why people are so bored.

Nothing is of course a quiz. We even commit cruel to use without passion.

All the worse. If one is to commit a crime, it should be done at least with pleasure. That's the only excuse that can justify them.

Perhaps you are right, sir. We live our lives, we do nothing with joy.

So we remember not even our crimes.

Your crime was not to kill. The revolution count Al Tamiraled was unsuccessful because he would not cut off three heads.

Three heads sacrificed to the king, what a broad political concession.

And perhaps betrayed the dream of you.

No. It was the end, just to follow the means.

I would have sacrificed three heads to save the lives of four. That is hardly a religious commitment.

Religion and freedom do not walk hand in hand in our world. But they can walk together.

But a question of freedom is a spiritual one. It is a thing.

An aspiration of the heart.

She was one of the three heads they asked for.

Those, those are the men and women you still inspire. It is no longer the enough.

Well be, must be.

What is the meaning of this impeding, sir?

Explain yourself.

Have you lost the power of words, sir?

Then what of action?

Sir, your address. I scorn you. I scorn you, sir.

Shit on your shoes, shit on your neck.

It's not as fiction, sir, I am entitled.

You're a coward. Give him satisfaction.

Your card, sir.

Well, give him your address or be damned as a coward. Go on.

Once upon a time when he was shot, he thought I could do it.

That's exactly what I intend to do. Good man.

Religion don't know.

You've got this nowadays, it meant something, sir.

Leave him. Left cannot retire 96.

But a life-sick, under General Marmal.

Would you do me the honour of being my second, sir?

On one condition. If you miss him, you fight me next.

Agree with me.

Mr. Sorrell.

I'm afraid you have the advantage over me. You have my card, but I'm not aware of our acquaintance.

You were the Comtebouva-Z.

So my lawyers would have me believe. To what do I owe the pleasure?

I have come to fight you, sir.

I will, of course, be honoured to accommodate you.

However, would you deem an impudence if I am quiet?

In what manner I've given a fence? The man who insulted me offered me your card.

But I'm not he.

No, sir, I fear there has been some mistake.

Well, this is an unusual and delicate situation.

If you feel my obvious lassitude and respect of disposing of my card...

In no way, sir. I did not hold you responsible for what has clearly been misappropriated.

However, I am also aware of the manner of my unwarranted intrusion on your privacy. And if...

There has been no intrusions, sir.

But you are most gracious, sir.

Sir, that was the misgrids your coachman.

He's dismissed. Four-fifth. But you must appreciate, sir.

If I can hardly permit the beating of my servants by anybody other than myself.

Of course.

Follow me to the wider ballon.

On a far second on the way. You! Drive me!

You know how to shoot, sir.

You know how to shoot.

You know how to shoot.