All language subtitles for Angels and Insects DVDRip Xvid LKRG

Poor Mr. Adamson had no idea
we were having a ball...

at the beginning
of his visit.

Your father thought
more of his eagerness...

to see
Mr. Adamson's specimens...

than he did of our own
projected entertainment.

Fortunately, he's much
of a height with Edgar...

who was able to help him
with a suit.

I should have had
no dress suit in any event.

All my earthly belongings...

have burned or drowned
or both in the shipwreck...

and they never included
a dress suit.

Well, well.
You must be possessed...

of immense resources
of strength and courage.

I'm sure they'll be equal...

to a turn
around the dance floor.

Once learned, a waltz
can never be forgotten.

Are you free to dance?

My father
was so sorry to hear...

you had lost so much
in the terrible shipwreck...

for your sake
and for his own.

He was eager
to add to his collection.

I did manage to save...

one or two of the rarest,
most beautiful butterflies.

I suppose
there's a certain pathos...

in saving
a dead butterfly...

but one in particular
is such a rarity.

I'll say no more now...

but I believe your father
will be glad to have it...

and you, too.

It's to be a surprise, really.

I hate people who tell me
I am to have a surprise...

and will not tell me
what it is.

You don't like suspense?

No, I don't.
I am afraid of surprises.

I must remember never
to surprise you, then.

Stop that! How dare you!
What did you do to her?

I'm so sorry.
I have no idea.

Can't imagine
what I might have done.

Something must have happened,
mustn't it?

Too much dancing,
I'll be bound.

Eugenia loves to dance.
She can't get enough of it.

I see.

Please, excuse my roughness.

I'm Eugenia's brother,
and thereby her protector.

Of course. It's nothing.

Good, good.

Well, now. More dancing.

Well?
Let's have some more dancing.

Please excuse
Eugenia's behavior.

She's not feeling herself.

It's of no importance.

I want you to know
that her leaving the ball...

was no reflection
on your behavior.

I hope she'll feel better soon.

Indeed.
Although I'm not sure...

she will ever be
the same again.

She was to be married...

only her fiance Captain Hunt
died quite suddenly.

It was a terrible shock.

Poor Eugenia's
only just recovering.

We don't talk about it,
but everybody knows.

I'm not tittle-tattling.

I just thought it might be
helpful to know.

I see. Thank you very much
for telling me.

You are very fortunate
to have escaped with your life.

We must be glad of that.

But the loss
of your specimens...

must have been
a very severe setback.

What will you do, Mr. Adamson?

If you do not think it
impertinent to ask.

I've hardly had time
to think.

Your own family cannot help.

No. My father's a butcher...

and even if
he had the wherewithal...

I could not ask him.

I'd hoped to sell enough...

to be able to stay
in England for some time...

write about my travels
and perhaps earn enough money...

to equip myself
to return to the Amazons.

We've barely begun
to pick up twigs...

those of us
who've worked there.

There are millions
of unexplored miles...

countless
unknown creatures...

and yet I've never felt
more profoundly alone...

than I did there.

You were so very kind
in your letters, sir...

the receipt of which was one
of the very few moments...

of luxury in my time
in the forest.

I used to ration the reading
to savor them longer...

as one rations
sugar and flour.

I am glad to have given
such pleasure to anyone.

I've brought you something rare.

Something very rare.

They fly in the broad,
sunny roads in the forest.

They float very slowly...

occasionally flapping
their wings like birds...

and they almost never come
down below twenty feet...

so they are almost
impossible to catch.

But I employed
some agile, little lndian boys.

They were able to climb up
and fetch me this pair.

Now, I must confess,
I did not know then...

how appropriate they were
to add to your collection.

They are Morpho Eugenia,
Sir Harald.

Well!

What a lovely creature!

What a beautiful,
glittering blue she is!

No. He.
It's the male who is blue.

The female is a tawny brown.

What a pity!
I prefer the shimmering blue...

but then, I am female,
so that is natural.

It's hard not to agree
with the Duke of Argyll...

but the extraordinary beauty
of these creatures is...

in itself, evidence
of the work of a Creator...

who also gave us human
sensitivity to beauty...

design, delicate variation,
and brilliant color.

From our spontaneous
response to them, sir...

I feel instinctively drawn
to agree with you...

but from a scientific
point of view, I must ask...

what purpose of natures
might be fulfilled...

by all this brilliance
and loveliness?

Mr. Darwin inclines
to think that the fact...

it is very preponderantly
male butterflies...

and birds that are
so brilliantly colored...

while the females are often
drab and unobtrusive...

suggests there's
some advantage to the male...

in flaunting
his scarlets and golds...

that might help make
the female select him as a mate.

Could it be that
the drabness of the female...

might be protective?

Yes, definitely.
Mr. Wallace--

Don't worry, my dear.

Forgive me, Mama.

Did you live entirely
without the company...

of civilized peoples
among naked savages?

Not entirely.

I had various friends
of all colors and races...

during my stays
in various communities...

but, yes,
sometimes, I suppose...

I was the only white guest
in tribal villages.

Are they really
naked and painted?

Some are partly clothed,
some wholly clothed.

They are greatly given
to decorating their skins...

with vegetable dyes.

These floating clumps
of twigs and grasses...

even remind me of
the great floating islands...

of upturned trees,
creepers, and bushes...

that make their way
down the great river.

I used to compare those...

to the passage
in "Paradise Lost"...

where Paradise is cast loose
after the deluge.

"Then shall this mount
of Paradise...

"by might of waves be moved
out of his place...

"pushed by
the horned flood...

"with all his verdure
spoiled and trees adrift...

"down the great river
to the opening gulf...

"and there take root
an island salt and bare...

"the haunt of seals and orcs
and sea-mews' clang."

Clever Matty.

Lady Alabaster would be
pleased if you would...

take tea with her when
you've finished your work.

You seem to have undertaken
quite a labor of love.

What's that?
Looks quite alarming.

It's become detached...

from whatever specimen
it was attached to.

Several parts of specimens
have become detached.

I keep a special box
for the most puzzling.

This foot and leg
obviously belong...

to some fairly
large quadrumane.

You might suppose they were
those of some human infant.

I assure you, they're not.
The bones are too light.

I must look to you as if
I'm practicing witchcraft.

No. I didn't mean to suggest
such a thing.

Of course not.

Indeed, I've noticed you
take a great interest...

in the natural sciences.

Everyone seems to be
taking an interest...

in the natural sciences
since your arrival.

It's a worthwhile pursuit,
I hope.

My father seems to think so...

which is fortunate for you.

Saved you from the poorhouse,
I'd say.

My origins are humble...

but I doubt it would
have come to that.

No, hopefully not.

Indeed, my father's charity
has served you rather well.

Your father's been very kind...

and I'm pleased to be able
to repay him...

by organizing his collection...

according to
scientific principles.

How long will the job take?

That depends on what I find
in this mountain of boxes.

That could take forever,
I'll wager...

since you have
nowhere else to go.

I'm so sorry.
I must leave now.

I have to take tea
with Lady Alabaster.

While you're taking tea
with my mother...

and talking about
whatever it is...

that you talk to
my father about...

just don't get too comfortable.

You're not one of us.

I am aware of that.
Good day.

Come in, Matty.

Mr. Adamson is here,
Lady Alabaster.

I hope you're comfortable here.

Oh, yes, very much so.

My husband is not
overburdening you with work?

No. I've a great deal
of spare time.

Lady Alabaster expressed
the hope that you might...

be able to spare a little time
helping Miss Mead...

and myself in
the scientific education...

of the younger members
of the family.

She feels that
they should profit...

from the presence of
such a distinguished naturalist.

Of course.
I'd be happy to do what I can.

Matty has such good ideas.
So ingenious she is.

Tell him, Matty.

Lady Alabaster's twins
are still too small...

but I have taken the three
older girls on rambles.

I would be delighted to help.

We shall truly profit
from your presence amongst us.

Oh, look!

You would not suppose
the queen...

to be of the same species
as her rapid servants.

We've attempted to keep
these insects before.

We have a deathly touch,
it appears.

The creatures
simply curl up and die.

You probably had not
captured a queen.

Ants are social beings.
They exist, it appears...

only for the good
of the whole nest.

The center of that nest
is the queen ant...

whose laying and feeding
the others tend ceaselessly.

I'd like to believe
humankind capable...

of such altruistic behavior...

though when I look around me...

I think Socialist society
may never be realized.

You think a great deal,
Miss Crompton.

For a woman.

You were about to say
"for a woman"...

and then refrained,
which was courteous.

It's my great amusement--
thinking.

Wonderful, wasn't it?

"1-8-6-0-2-5-3.
Ventner, lsle of Wight."

Young Mr. Swinnerton
wishes to marry my daughter.

I have given permission.

He said he already knows
what she will say.

So you must wish me joy.

I do, indeed.

The first fledgling
out of the nest.

The others must soon follow
in the course of things.

I know they must,
but I worry about Eugenia.

I confess I feel this news
is not calculated...

to improve her happiness...

but perhaps
I underestimate her.

Then it is not
Miss Eugenia Alabaster...

who's to be married?

Oh, no!

I was about to say,
"Oh, no. Alas!"

It is Rowena who is
to marry Mr. Swinnerton.

She's so beautiful, sir,
so very beautiful...

and, well, perfect,
that she cannot be long...

without finding
some worthy partner.

So I believe,
but her mother is concerned.

She will not be pleased
if Rowena goes first.

It is not right.

Please, I beg you. I cannot.

Please. It's no use.

Couldn't help noticing
you were in distress.

Can I be of help?

I will do anything
to help if I can.

You're very kind,
but I cannot be helped.

I'm beyond help.

I wish I were dead,
to speak truly.

I wish I were dead.

I ought to be dead,
as Harry is dead.

I know about your tragedy,
Miss Alabaster.

I'm very sorry.
I hope you may be comforted.

I don't think you do know,
not at all. No one can.

Well, it must be so.
You've shown great courage.

Please don't be unhappy.

So many people love you,
you cannot be unhappy.

It is you who are
good and kind and brave...

even though
you don't understand.

You've been kind to everyone...

even the little girls.

We are lucky to have you here.

And I would feel
lucky and honored...

if you would feel you could
let me be your friend.

Despite the differences
between us...

if you could trust me
a little.

I don't know what
I'm talking about.

Why should you trust me?

I want so much to do
something for you...

anything at all.

I own nothing, as you know,
so it's all folly...

but please command me
if I can help in the least way.

Miss Alabaster?

So? What is it?

I've something to show you.

You'll have to come
in quickly now.

Am I safe?

With me, quite safe.

They take your dress
for the sky itself.

You don't find them
disagreeable?

They are so light, so soft.

It's like colored air.

It's almost a cloud.

It is a cloud.

You are a miracle worker.

Well, it's for you.

I have nothing real to give.
No pearls, no emeralds.

I've nothing...

but I wanted so much
to give you something.

They are so terribly fragile.

You could hurt them
just by touching.

One careless pinch
would be enough.

I would never hurt
one of those. Never.

How can I thank you?

You've already done so
with your appreciation.

Would you come back again
this evening?

Your moths are trying
to perform suttee.

I don't know why
they're so driven...

to make burned offerings
of themselves.

I've wondered if
they navigate by moonlight...

and mistake candles for
very bright, heavenly bodies.

Won't you sit down...

and see if the moths
think you are the moon...

as the butterflies took you
for the flowers and sky?

What is that?

It's a newly-hatched hawk moth.

A female.

In a little time,
when she's strong...

I'll take away the cage
and release her.

She seems very weak.

Takes a great deal of force
to break out of the pupa.

Insects are all
at their most vulnerable...

at the moment of metamorphosis.

They can easily be
snapped up by any predator.

There are none here, I hope.

Oh, no.

Good.

How lovely it is
in the moonlight!

This is what
I promised myself...

for making you
a cloud of butterflies.

Don't answer this...

and don't feel that
I speak to alarm you.

I only want to say
that you cannot know...

how much these few moments
can mean to me.

I shall remember them always--

your closeness, your calm.

If things were
only different...

I might say quite
different things to you...

but I know how the land lies.

I've no hopes except perhaps...

to be able to speak briefly
and honestly to you...

for I do not see
how that could hurt you.

Take them away!
I don't like these!

They're the male hawk moths.

They're drawn by the female
in some mysterious way.

Please get them away.

They're quite harmless.

Get them away!

There's no reason to fear them.

I'll carry her to the other end
of the conservatory.

Now they'll follow her
and leave you.

There is another trapped here.

Quickly! I shall scream!

Please!

It must be the scent.

Oh, that was terrible!

It was like bats, like ghosts.

It was foul!

I didn't mean to frighten you.

My dear, I didn't mean to...

It isn't you.

It is everything.

I'm so unhappy.

Is it because of Captain Hunt?

Do you still grieve for him so?

He didn't want to marry me.

He died because
he didn't want to marry me.

That must be nonsense.

Anyone would want to marry you.

It wasn't really an accident.

That is only what they say.

He did it because
he didn't want to marry me.

Why didn't he?

How should I know?
Only it is so.

It is just clear to me
that he didn't--

You torture me saying this.

My dearest wish in the world...

as you must know...

would be to be able
to ask you to be my wife...

which I can never do...

because I cannot support
a wife or even myself.

I do know that.

But it's unbearably
painful to me...

to hear you
speaking like this...

and not be able myself...

I do not need
to marry a fortune.

I have one of my own.

What are you saying?

There could be a double wedding.

I should not be married
after Rowena.

Not...

Not if I am
to be married at all.

Shall I speak to your father?
Tomorrow?

Arms up, please, Alice.

Seven. Five.

So with all the wagers on,
I drove the gigs...

through narrow gaps
in seven hedges...

and only one wheel
fell off...

and that was right
at the very end.

The horse wanted to go on...

but with all the fences
behind us...

there was no further point.

You, sir, must not have
the nerve or the strength...

to do such a thing.

You sit there,
and you smile fatuously...

but you could not bring
such a thing off.

No doubt I could not.

I don't like your attitude, sir.

I have never liked it.

I believe you sneer
in your heart.

I do not mean to sneer.

Since we are to be brothers...

I hope I would not give
such an appearance.

It would be most wrong.

Brothers, you say.
I don't like that.

You are underbred, sir...

and you are no good match
for my sister.

There is bad blood in you,
vulgar blood.

I do not accept
either bad or vulgar.

I am aware
that I'm no good match...

and that I have few prospects
and no future.

Your father and Eugenia
have done me...

the great kindness
of overlooking that...

and I hope you may come
to accept their decision.

You should rather
wish to fight me.

I insulted you.

You are a miserable creature...

without breeding or courage.

You should stand up, sir,
and face me.

I think not.

As for breeding,
I count my father...

as a kind man,
an honest man...

and I know no other
good reason for respect.

As for courage,
I think I may claim...

that to have lived for
ten years on the Amazons...

to have survived
murder plots...

poisonous snakes,
shipwreck...

fifteen days on a lifeboat
in the mid-Atlantic...

may reasonably compare
with driving a poor horse...

into a house
through a window.

I think I know
what true courage is.

It does not consist
in fisticuffs...

as a response to an insult.

Well said, William Adamson.

Well-said,
my fellow bridegroom.

You shall not have her,
do you hear?

She is not for such as you.

Please do not breathe
in my face.

You resemble nothing more
than an angry dragon.

Stand up!

You shall not provoke me
into disgracing...

a house and a family
I hope to belong to.

Stand up!

In the Amazons, young men
who make themselves...

stupid with spirits
behave as you do.

They often end by killing
each other inadvertently.

I should not care
if you were killed.

Eugenia might care
very deeply if I were.

She's already lost one hus--

I beg you not to
make too much of Edgar.

He is wild in his cups,
and he is quiet after.

He often does not remember
what has passed.

It was the drink insulted you.

I'm happy to accept
such an explanation.

Good man, fellow bridegroom.
Civilized man.

We are not armed warriors now,
are we?

Civilized men who stay seated
as we should, we are.

I admire you, William.

Edgar is an anachronism.

You didn't think I knew
that word, I'll be bound.

On the contrary.

Thank you for your kindness.

We are both men
of the outdoors.

We have that in common,
do we not?

We do.
And I hope that, in time...

we may come to find
other common interests.

Indeed. I'm sure we will.

Good night, Edgar.

Good night, William.

A present
from Miss Eugenia, sir.

Well...

here I am, you see.

Here we are.

I cannot believe
my own happiness.

Well, you will catch cold...

if you cannot believe it
enough to come in.

I've loved you...

from the first moment
that I saw you.

I don't want to hurt you.

You're honey.

Sweet as honey.

We're going to be
so happy together.

Good morning.
Hope I don't disturb you.

By no means.
I'm conducting experiments...

on these
fascinating creatures.

You'll no doubt find
my research is crude.

On the contrary.
What is it that you're studying?

I've been placing
various foods...

upon the surface
of the earth in the tank...

and counting
the number of ants...

who hurry to avail
themselves of the food...

and how they dispose of it.

Come and look.

They're greatly attracted to
fragments of grape and melon.

It's taken half an hour
almost exactly...

for this scrap
of sweet fruit...

to become no more
than a living pincushion.

You cannot but admire
the spirit of cooperation.

I do hope my formica prima
hasn't drowned in juice.

She hasn't stirred
for quite ten minutes.

You're at the point of
recognizing individual ants.

May I see your book?

You put me to shame,
Miss Crompton.

I've been secretly
worrying about...

the cutting short of
my hoped-for researches...

into the insect life
in the Amazon basin.

My present good fortune,
and here you are...

doing what
I should be doing--

observing the unknown world
which is to hand.

My sphere is naturally
more limited.

I naturally look closer to hand.

Good night, sir.

Good night, Arthur.

I believe we can expect
a happy event.

I believe I am with child.

Congratulations, my dear.
That's wonderful news.

You look quite different--
a new creature.

You look
wonderfully mysterious.

I am a little peaked.
I do not quite feel myself.

I am somewhat nauseous,
no doubt quite naturally.

Poor Eugenia, it's so hot.

I must confess,
I am quite uncomfortable.

I shall be
until the baby arrives.

I don't like these ants!
Please! Have them go away!

I think the formica fusca
have chosen today...

for their
annual nuptial dance.

Like cygnets.

You're like swan's down,
and they're like cygnets.

They do not seem
to resemble me at all.

They will, you know.

I've seen
ever so many babies...

and they change
from week to week...

even from day to day.

Resemblances run across
their faces like clouds.

Papa today,
Grandpapa tomorrow...

Aunt Ponsonby on Tuesday...

and Great-Grandmama
at Friday dinnertime.

It's because
they're so soft, the dears...

so plastic.

You'll suddenly see
your own chin on Agnes.

And one or other
of your grandmothers...

smiling out of Dora's eyes.

I'm sure you're right.

What are you doing?

When I come down...

the scullery's a-run
with creatures, sir.

I have to set traps
at night.

You put molasses in
one of the empty tins...

and they fall in
and can't right themselves.

Then I have to
take them out...

and pour boiling
water on them.

You'd be amazed
how quick they come back

no matter how many of them
you boil to death.

I hate the smell.

I beg your pardon.

And an eight.

A little cherub--

That's exactly what you are.

A beautiful baby.

Yes, you are.

My turn?

Thank you, nurse.

A six.

Can't we keep them down
a little longer?

I should so like to hold them
a little longer.

Rowena, dear,
there is tomorrow, too.

Nurse has to feed and
ready them for bed now.

I so rarely hold a baby.

My dear Rowena.

Your turn, Rowena.

Rowena?

Eugenia, please.
Let me go to her.

I think it would be better.

You and William
are so blessed--

two beautiful children
and another expected.

It is very hard for Rowena.

You are...so blessed.

It was incredible.

The people in the train
were waving and cheering...

as we overtook them.

We went on for three miles.

Were it not for the river,
we could have gone longer.

There's no future
in those locomotives.

Give me a purebred
Arab stallion any day.

No question about it.

For speed and strength,
the Arab is unmatched.

There is no substitute
for pure blood, Robin.

Keep the breeds separate...

and you can't go far wrong.

That is the cardinal rule.

God made creatures distinct.

It is our job
to keep them that way.

Am I not right?

Well, a breed,
like a dialect of language...

can hardly be said
to have a distinct origin.

Indeed, the evidence
is that all horses...

have descended
from the same animal.

If you look--

Don't be absurd.

A dray horse has nothing
in common with an Arab.

There is no blood shared there.

They're different,
quite different...

and if you knew horses,
you'd see that.

It is hard to believe, I agree.

However, you do not need
to take my word for it.

There's ample eviden--

Mr. Darwin makes
his argument very clear...

in the "Origin of Species,"
which you would know...

if you ever took any interest...

in the important ideas
of our time.

Indeed,
we need look no further...

than our own flock
of small, black sheep...

to see that careful breeding...

with our own flock
and that of our neighbors...

has produced
an entirely new breed.

Father.

Think, Edgar, before you speak.

The boy's name must be Edgar.

Why?

Why?

There is an Edgar in
every generation of Alabasters.

My son is not an Alabaster.

My son is an Adamson...

and I wish to give my child
a name from my own family...

however undistinguished.

I do not see why.

We do not see
your family or speak...

or seem likely to do so.

Your family
does not come here...

and Edgar will not
know them, I suppose.

We are your family...

and I think you must own
we have been good to you.

More than good, my dear.
More than good.

Only l...

Only?

Well, I wish to have
something of my own...

and my son is my own,
in some sense.

We could call him...
William Edgar.

Not my name.
My father's--Robert.

Robert's a good English name.

Robert Edgar.

Abraham?

Methuselah?

I am what I am.

Moses?

I am!

Am. Am.

Lesson?

Apple?

Bee?

What's that?

A crocodile.

Nope, nope.
Alphabet lesson.

"A."

You're so clever.

Belt?

Girdle?

Zone.

Oh, well done, Miss Mead.

Am-a-zon.

Come on.

Lovely!

It's very strange.

When I was in the Amazons...

I used to wake daily
from a dream...

of mild English sunshine...

simple and wonderful things...

such as bread and butter,
instead of endless cassava.

Now, I wake...

from dreams
of the forest curtain...

the movement of the river...

and my work.

You work, I believe,
with Sir Harald on his book.

I do,
but I'm not really needed...

and my views...

In short, my views
do not wholly agree with his.

Perhaps you should
write your own book.

No, no, no.

I've no settled opinions
to advance...

and no wish to convert anyone...

to my own rather uncertain
views on things.

I did not mean opinions.

I meant a book of facts...

a book of scientific facts...

such as you are
uniquely qualified to write.

I have thought about writing
a book about my travels.

Such books are
very successful, I know...

but all my detailed notes,
all my specimens...

all lost in the shipwreck.

I've not the heart to invent,
even if I could.

But nearer to hand
lie things...

you could observe
and write about.

Yes, yes.

You've said this before.

I'm certain you're right.

I'm very grateful to you...

but a detailed
scientific study...

would take many years,
much rigor...

and I'd hoped to...

You'd hoped?

I had hoped to set out again
on a foreign journey...

to collect more information
about the untraveled world.

I wish to do that.

Sir Harald has suggested
that he might be sympathetic.

The book I should like
to see you write...

is not
a major scientific study...

not the work of a lifetime...

it's a book
I think may prove useful...

and I daresay,
profitable to you...

in the quite near future.

I think if you were
to write...

a natural history of
the ant colonies over a year...

you'd have something
very interesting...

to a very general public
and yet of scientific value.

It might be interesting.

It might be fun.

Fun.

The children could be
usefully employed...

and I myself
would be proud to assist.

Miss Mead
would do what she could.

I see the children
as characters in the drama.

There has to be a drama
for it to appeal to the public.

Why don't you
write it yourself?

It's your idea.
You should get credit.

No, I've not
the requisite knowledge...

nor the time...

though I don't know
where my days go.

I don't see myself as a writer
but as an assistant.

If you would accept me,
I would be honored.

I can draw. I can write.

I can copy, if necessary.

I...

I'm extraordinarily
grateful to you, Miss Crompton.

I do believe you've
transfigured my prospects.

Hardly,
but it may be the answer...

with good will and hard work.

What name shall we
give to the home...

of the blood-red slavemakers?

It is a horrible trade.

Never have I wept so
over a book...

as I wept over
"Uncle Tom's Cabin."

I pray nightly for the cause
of President Lincoln.

We could call the nest
Bredely Hall.

We have lots of servants.

That wouldn't be
appropriate, Margaret.

Well, I propose Red Fort.

That sounds war-like enough...

and brings in the color
of the sanguinea.

-That's appropriate.
-Yes.

In the spring of 1862...

we began
the organized ant watch.

The colony was busily preparing
for the breeding season.

As the red ants
set about their tasks...

we set about ours...

observing and recording
the colony at work.

On our first sentry duty...

Edith noticed worker ants
cleaning their nest...

much as human beings
spring-clean their houses.

Margaret, Elaine,
and Miss Crompton...

carefully mapped out the city
and its satellite suburbs.

There were numerous
entrances and exits...

with well-worn paths winding
across the forest floor.

The girls illustrated the scene
with a column of worker ants...

setting forth
on a foraging expedition.

Miss Crompton's
evening watches had revealed...

that the city was never
defenseless against outsiders.

Nighttime guards
were posted behind gates...

barricaded
with twigs and leaves.

Not all outsiders
were unwelcome.

With much
patient observation...

and the help
of Miss Mead's umbrella...

we uncovered a thriving
population of nitidulidae.

These small beetles...

Iive peacefully
on the fringes of the city...

scavenging after
the ants' leftovers.

As the weeks passed,
we came to understand...

the ants' activities
in Red Fort...

as well as any man
would know...

the comings and goings
of his own house...

if not better.

Oh, there you are.

I've recruited Amy
to keep an eye on the nest...

of the fusca ants
on her afternoons off.

I'm certain
your assistance...

will prove to be
extremely useful, Amy.

Thank you, sir.

Go and join Tom now.

Miss Mead and the girls...

will be here to relieve
you both later.

It will do her good
to get a bit of fresh air...

having no family
and nowhere to go...

and earn
a few extra pennies.

What would you say...

to a few cartoon-like
illustrations to your text?

Here I've drawn one
with a stiletto...

and here a string helmet
and heavy wrench.

I should think
it might add greatly...

to the human interest.

Good-bye.

Enjoy the hunt.

We will.

William? Is that you?

It is you.

I could tell by your step.

Are you tired, dear?

Somewhat.

I am stiff
from a day in the saddle...

but, my dear...

it was wonderful to be out
with the hunt again...

after my confinement.

I do love it so.

You look beautiful, my dear.

Really?

As beautiful as ever?

More beautiful than ever.

The world has changed
so much, William...

in my lifetime.

I am old enough
to have believed...

in the first parents
in Paradise...

as a little boy...

to have believed in Satan
hidden in the serpent...

and the Archangel
with his flaming sword...

closing the gate.

And now I am supposed
to believe in a world...

in which
we are what we are...

because of the mutations...

of soft jelly
and calcius bone...

which goes on and on through
unimaginable millennia.

A world in which
angels and devils...

do not do battle in Heaven
for vice and virtue...

but in which
we eat and are eaten...

and are absorbed
into other flesh and blood.

I shall molder
like a mushroom...

when my time comes...

and it will always be soon.

I shall end my life
like a skeleton leaf...

about to be humus...

a mouse clutched by an owl...

a bull calf
going to the slaughter...

through a gate
which leads only to one way--

to blood and dust
and destruction.

And then I think
no brute beast...

would think such things.

No frog, no hound, even...

would have such a vision
of the Angel of Annunciation.

Where does it all come from?

Come quick! Do come!

What's the matter, Amy?

Tom says the bloody ants
are coming up in a great army.

He says,
"Come quick. Something's up."

I saw them myself.
They're like gravy boiling.

Do come.

The great slaving raid
took place on a hot afternoon...

after several days of frantic
activity within Red Fort.

We arrived at the nest...

to see gossiping and seething
crowds of red ants...

massing for
a clearly important event.

We knew not what.

And then, at some sign...

the ants swarmed out
of the city from every exit.

Was it a little Napoleon
who led the call to arms...

or had the heat
of the sun alone...

signaled the ants
to act in unison?

We followed as the army set out
across the forest floor.

The rough terrain
of twigs and leaves...

separated
the well-organized ranks...

into seemingly
raggle-taggle brigades.

Fifteen yards
from their own citadel...

the red ants stopped,
regrouped...

and then descended...

upon an unsuspecting nest
of black ants...

the formica fusca.

The black ants
sallied forth bravely...

to beat off
the thieves and kidnappers...

waving their antennae.

Hurrying furiously...

they bit at the legs
and heads and feelers...

of the busy bloody ants.

They attempted,
sometimes with success...

to grasp the red invaders
and bite them to death.

The red ants
had one purpose only--

to snatch the unhatched
black ants from the nest...

and carry them in
their fine jaws to Red Fort.

From that moment on...

the fate of the captured
black ant nestlings was sealed.

They would live and die
as red ants...

not as true black ants.

They would feed and nourish
little blood-red ants...

and, in time,
respond to the sun...

by massing to attack
their forgotten families.

It is as if environment
were everything...

and inheritance nothing.

Amy?

I didn't know
you had an interest...

in this little thing.

I don't.
Not a personal one...

but in her general well-being.

Her general well-being.

Well, tell him, Amy--
was I hurting you?

Were my attentions
unwelcome, perhaps?

No. No, sir.

I'm quite all right,
Mr. Adamson.

Please.

I think you should
apologize, sir...

and leave us.

I think Amy should run on.

I think she'd do best
to run on.

Sir.

Run off, then, child.

I can always find you
if I want you.

Servants in this house
are none of your concern...

Mr. Adamson.

You do not pay their wages...

and I'll thank you
not to interfere with them.

That little creature
is no more than a child...

and one who's not had
a proper childhood.

Nonsense.

She's a nice little
packet of flesh...

and her heart beats faster
when I reach for it...

and her little mouth
opens sweetly and eagerly.

You know nothing, Adamson.

I've noticed
that you know nothing.

Go back to your beetles
and your creepy-crawlies.

I won't hurt the little puss,
you can believe.

Just add a little bit
of natural spice.

Anyway,
it's none of your business.

You're a hanger-on.

And I've yet to learn
what use you are to the world...

or anyone in it.

I told you.

I've noticed
that you know nothing.

"And what of
the fusca ant males?

"Their fate exemplifies...

"the remorseless,
random purposefulness...

"of Dame Nature,
of natural selection.

"Their whole existence
is directed...

"only to the nuptial dance...

"and the fertilization
of the queens.

"They are flying
amorous projectiles...

"truly no more
than the burning arrows...

"of the winged
and blindfold God of Love...

"and after their day of glory...

"they're unnecessary
and unwanted.

"They run hither and thither...

"aimlessly draggle-winged.

"They are beaten back
for the most part...

"from the doors
of their home nests...

"and driven away
to mope and die...

"in the cooling evenings...

"of the late summer
and early autumn."

Very eloquent.

I'm quite overcome with pity...

for these poor, useless
male creatures.

I must admit, I'd never seen
them in that light before.

Do you not think
you may have been...

somewhat anthropomorphic
in your choice of rhetoric?

I thought that was
our intention in this history--

to appeal to a wide audience
by telling scientific truths...

with a note of the fabulous.

Perhaps I've overdone it.

I could tone it down.

I'm quite sure you should not.

It will do excellently
as it is.

It will appeal greatly
to the dramatic emotions.

The book
is to be delightful...

as well as profound
and truthful, is it not?

I've been making a collection
of literary citations...

which I thought you might place
at the head of your chapters.

I found a wonderful sonnet
by poor, mad John Clare...

which seems to suggest
that our ideas of fairies...

are only anthropomorphizing
of insects...

and I've had an idea...

to put my little drawings
of fairy insects into a book.

A book?

I'm amazed
at your accomplishments--

Latin, Greek, draftsmanship
of a high quality...

a thorough knowledge
of English literature.

I was educated
with my betters...

in the schoolroom
of a bishop.

in the schoolroom
of a bishop.

My father was the tutor...

and the bishop's lady
kindly intentioned.

You should publish
on your own behalf.

This is for
my own entertainment.

The ants, you know,
were my muse.

They inspired me.

I'll take it into town
on the pretext...

of looking
for new winter boots.

I do not trust
that village postmistress...

not to tell everyone
that a fat packet has gone off.

We do not wish
to attract attention...

to what may be a completely
fruitless endeavor.

No. When the book
is handsomely bound...

and ready for review...

then we shall be open.

She can't be expected
to do any more...

in her condition.

Get this cushion here.

That's better.

Can I have a drink?

Mother?

There.

Good.

"Dear Mr. Adamson...

"You are to be
heartily congratulated...

"upon your ingenious
natural history...

"which is
just the kind of book...

"which the world of letters
at present cannot have enough.

"We are very happy...

"you've chosen our house
as the publishers...

"and hope we may come
to a happy arrangement...

"for what will be
a fruitful partnership.

"Yours sincerely,
J. Marion, publisher."

I was so afraid.

I can hardly believe it.

We must not be
oversanguine.

I have no idea
of the profit...

from a successful book.

Nor l, nor l.

I hardly like to mention it
to Sir Harald.

He's in a very bad way
with his own project.

He's torn up several
sheaves of writing...

only yesterday.

I don't feel I've given him
the support he needs.

Oh, I understand.

Perhaps--

It's not certain enough
yet to be revealed...

perhaps we should
keep our own counsel.

I'm quite happy
to go on as we are.

The shock--the surprise,
I should say--

will be
all the more complete...

when we come to reveal
what has been in the making.

Mr. William,
I can tell you now...

that you are the father of
not one, but two infant girls...

both living, both doing well.

Hounds, gentlemen, please!

Mr. Adamson!

Whoa!

Mr. Adamson, sir!

You're asked to come back
to Miss Eugenia, please.

Is she ill?
Is anything wrong?

Didn't say, sir.
Just come back to Miss Eugenia.

Is my wife well?

I think so, sir.

Do you know where she is?

In her room, sir, I think.

She told me she was not to be
disturbed until after dinner.

Get dressed.

Go. Go now.

You must take those.

Take them in your hand
and anything else and leave.

I told you to go now!

You, too. Dress yourself.

Cover up now. Just cover up.

William...

Dress yourself!

Just dress yourself!

Dress yourself!

It's like a whorehouse!

It's disgusting.

You are disgusting.

I can't put this on
without Martha.

Will you help me?

I shan't touch you.

Why don't you just
cover yourself?

Cover yourself!
You're horrible to see!

Hurry up!

This...

This has been going on
for some time, hasn't it?

Has it?

All the time I've been here.

Yes.

How long?

Since I was very little.

Very little. Yes.

You cannot possibly understand.

No, I cannot.

At first, it seemed...

nothing to do with
the rest of my life.

It was just
something secret...

that was. You know?

Like other things
you must not do and do...

Iike touching yourself
in the dark.

You don't understand.

When I was going
to marry Captain Hunt, he saw.

He saw.

Not so much as you have seen,
but enough to guess.

And it preyed on his mind.

It preyed on his mind.

I swore then I would stop it...

and I did stop it...

because I wanted
to be married...

and good
and like other people...

and I did persuade him
that he was mistaken in me.

It was so hard...

for he could not say
what he feared.

He would not speak it out loud.

That was when I saw
how very terrible it was...

I was.

Only we could not stop.

I don't think...

that he meant even to stop.

He's strong, William.

And, of course,
Captain Hunt--

someone led him to see it...

and he wrote a terrible letter
to both of us...

and he said...

oh, that he could not
live with the knowledge...

even if we could--

that is what he said--

and then he shot himself.

In the desk,
there was a note to me...

saying I would know why
he had died...

and he hoped that
I would be able to be happy.

And even after that,
you just went right on.

Who else could I turn to?

Well, you turned to me.

You made use of me anyhow.

All the children,
who revert so shockingly...

to the ancestral type--

No! I don't know!

Well, I know, don't l?

Perfectly obvious!

You just have to look at them!

I'll go now.

We can talk again later.

What will you do?

I don't know what I shall do.

I shall tell you when I do know.

You need not be afraid
that I shall kill myself...

or him.

I want to be a free man,
not a convicted murderer.

Remember, William...

the aim is to get rid of
all your letters.

Phoenix.

I only had this left.

No, not now. Later.

I'll find a time later.

Please take a seat.

I hope you don't think this
is too conspiratorial.

You wish to talk.

You sent me a word tonight...

and someone sent for me to
come back to the house today...

when I was not wanted...

when I was anything
but wanted.

I didn't send for you...

if that's what you're thinking.

There are people in a house,
you know...

who can know everything
that's going on--

invisible people.

Now and then,
the house simply decides...

that something must happen.

I think your message
came to you...

after a series
of misunderstandings...

that were at
some level deliberate.

But you know what I saw.

There are people in houses...

between the visible
inhabitants and the invisible--

Iargely invisible to both--

who can know a very great deal
if they choose.

I choose to know about
some things...

and not about others.

I've become interested...

in knowing about things
that concern you.

I've been used.

I've been made a fool of.

Even so, that's not
the most important thing.

What I want to know
is what you feel.

I want to know
what you're going to do.

I find that
my most powerful feeling...

is that I'm free.

I ought to feel shocked
or vengeful, humiliated...

and I do feel all these things
from time to time...

but mostly,
I feel I can go now.

I can leave this house.

I can return to my true work.

There was talk of equipping
a further Amazon venture.

I cannot now take
one Alabaster penny.

You must see that.

You see everything,
I begin to think.

I must go away and soon...
and never return.

You are all
that I shall miss here.

I've never felt anything...

in my heart of hearts...

for all those white children.

This may be only of the moment.

No, I can go. I shall go.

My book--our book--
will provide something.

More can be earned.

I've sold my book.

Your book?

Yes. I told you
I was preparing...

a book of
drawings and writings...

integrating the insect realm
with fairy tales.

When did you write it?

Why didn't you tell me?

I wrote it here.

I had to do it alone.

I had to do something
that would be mine.

All my life, I've worked
for others for their good.

Everything I had,
even this...

could be taken away from me
on someone else's whim.

My book was my secret...

just as now it's my gift.

You are not offering...

I've taken certain steps...

entirely subject
to your approval.

I have a banker's draft from
Mr. John Marion, publisher...

which would be more
than sufficient...

and a letter
from Mr. Stevens...

offering to negotiate the sales
of specimens as before...

and a letter
from Captain Papagay...

who sails from Liverpool
to Rio in a month.

He has two berths free.

You truly are a good fairy.

You wave your wand...

and I have everything
I desire...

before I can
think of desiring it.

I watch and contrive
and write letters...

and consider your nature,
and you do desire it.

You've just said so.

Two berths?

I would come with you.

You've filled me with a desire
for paradisal places.

I shall not rest until
I've seen the great river...

and felt
the air of the tropics.

You cannot do that.

Think of the fever...

think of the terrible,
biting creatures...

think of the monotonous,
insufficient food...

of the rough men out there,
the drunkenness.

Yet you will go there.

-I'm not a woman.
-Oh, I am.

It's no place for a woman.

There are women there.

Yes, but not of your kind.

I don't think you know
what kind of woman I am.

I don't think you know
that I am a woman.

You've never seen me.

Why should that not
continue as it is?

You have no idea who I am.

You have no idea
even how old I am.

You think I am between
30 and 50. Confess it.

If you know so precisely
what it is I think...

it's because
you've meant me to think it.

All right, tell me.

Since you invite the question,
how old are you?

I'm 27.

I've one life...

and 27 years of it
have passed...

and I intend to begin living.

Not in the rain forest.
Not in the Amazons.

The place is very much
an inferno.

But you will go there.

My work is there, Matty.

I know how to live that life.

I can learn.
I'm strong, resourceful.

I have not lived softly,
contrary to appearances.

You need not heed me
once the voyage is over.

It's a daydream.

It is what I will do!

Matty, Miss Crompton...

Up here, at night,
there is no Matty.

My name is Matilda.

Look at me!

I have looked at you.

I've seen your wrists, Matilda.

I only wanted you to see me.

I don't think
that was all you wanted.

Shall I stay here?

Or shall I go back now?

I should like you to stay...

but it's not
very comfortable here.

If we are to travel together...

you'll find that
we'll look back on this...

as a paradise of comfort.

So...you have decided.

What is to be my fate?

I must confess,
I'm more interested in my own.

I've decided to leave you,
Eugenia.

And...shall you speak
to anyone?

Shall you tell?

Who can I tell, Eugenia...

whom I should not destroy
in the telling?

You must live with yourself.

That's all I can say.

You must live with yourself.

I know it was bad.

I know it was bad...

but you must understand--
it didn't feel bad.

Breeders know even
first-cousin marriages...

produce inherited defects,
increase the likelihood--

That is a cruel thing to say.

Morpho Eugenia...

you are very lovely.

It has not done me any good
to look pretty...

to be admired.

I would like to be different.

Good-bye, Eugenia.
I shall not return.

Be off. Come on.