Original subtitles

I remember. Long ago I read a book

that told the meaning of dreams.

It said that if a girl dreams of a boat or a ship

she will reach a safe harbor.

But if she dreams of daffodils...

...she is in great danger.

But this is no time for me to think of danger.

This is my wedding day.

Something old, something new,

something borrowed, something blue.

Something old is this church.

Four centuries old.

Mark says it's a felicitous structure.

Its vaultings, pilasters, walls,

its altars, its chandeliers,

tuned to a perfect harmony.

Built so that here only events of joy can happen.

400 years of joy.

And something new is Mark himself.

And love is new for me.

My heart is pounding so.

The sound of it drowns out everything.

It's said that when you drown

your whole life passes before you like a fast movie.

Here it is in 12-point bold.

My young and gaudy sister has broken another engagement.

Darling, I never dreamed of marrying him!

Trombone player, heaven forbid!

I'd sooner see you marry that witchdoctor of yours.

- Curtis? He's a brilliant psychoanalyst. - Ugh.

Oh...

Chitchat aside, what are you holding out for?

I still have time, Rick. Why should I tie myself down?

I'm not trying to rush you,

but, you know, being mother and father and check-signer for you

has its worrisome moments.

Today, New York's a bull market for you in good, solid, eligible men.

Are there any as good as you, Rick?

I wasn't proposing a miracle.

But I won't be around as long as you, Celia.

They don't make spare parts for this and mine has a lot of mileage on it.

I... I'm, I'm terribly sorry, Rick.

Your secretary said I-I could...

Hey, hey. Come in, Bob. This is strictly legal.

Speak of the devil, Celia.

Here is a thoroughly eligible man and a top-flight lawyer, Bob Dwight.

My sister, Celia.

My brother Rick.

That was the last time we were close

and when you died, Rick, life was lonely.

Rick was a cagey investor,

but now that it's your money I've set up a trust fund.

No one but you can touch the capital,

unless you revoke the trust,

not even your husband.

Has a fortune-hunting husband popped up?

The woodwork is crawling with them. You know that.

I wasn't looking.

I... I like you very much, Celia.

And when you're settled I'm going to ask you to marry me.

Dear Bob, I'm settled now.

Believe me, I'm dead tired of being the darling of the stag line.

I don't want an answer now, Celia. You're depressed about Rick.

It's only been two months and...

- ...Celia, I want you to be sure. - But I...

The Potters asked you to go to Mexico. Why don't you take them up on it?

- You come too? - No.

Call it your last fling. I'll still be here when you come back.

It's awfully commercial.

My dear, it's perfect for Bob.

All right. The initials are R.D.

I nearly married a man once who was the image of Bob,

only he broke our engagement simply because he found out that I...

Celia, let's get out of here.

I don't want to be an innocent bystander.

Celia, come on, come on.

What's wrong with you?

There was nothing wrong with me, but I was strangely held.

Oh, I'd seen fights before, nightclub brawls,

a fist-fight over a cigarette girl.

When one man was knocked down, the fight was over.

But this was different.

A woman and two men, who may have known her an hour or less,

fighting for her with naked knives.

Death was in that street...

...and I felt how proud she must be.

Celia!

Suddenly I felt that someone was watching me.

There was a tingling at the nape of my neck

as though the air had turned cool.

I felt eyes touching me like fingers.

There was a current flowing between us,

warm and sweet and frightening too...

...because he saw behind my make-up what no one had ever seen.

Something I didn't know was there.

Let's go.

When you snapped out of your trance you looked as though you'd seen death.

- That's not how he looked to me. - What?

Oh... weren't you going to phone the hotel about Arthur?

Oh, good heavens, yes!

He's a lamb up to a point, but one drink too many and he's a raging beast!

Oh, waiter! Where's the telephone?

- There, señorita. - Oh, yes, thanks.

I'll have a bellhop put him to bed if he has to hog-tie him. Otherwise, oh...

I sent Edith away because I'd planned my strategy.

I wanted to meet him on my own grounds...

...not his.

The fight finished just after you left.

How did it end?

The big gypsy had the knife.

What did the woman do?

To the victim belong the spoils.

The last I saw she was hanging on his arm.

Oh, by the way, I don't think that R.D. will like that wallet

if he's anything like me.

He's not a bit like you.

And you're not a bit like you.

I mean, you aren't what you seem to be.

There's something in your face I saw once before,

in South Dakota, in the wheat country, cyclone weather.

Just before the cyclone the air has a... stillness,

a flat, gold... shimmering stillness.

You have it in your face.

The same hush before a storm

and when you smile it's like the first breath of wind bending down the wheat.

I know that behind that smile is a turbulence that...

I heard his voice and then I didn't hear it anymore

because the beating of my blood was louder.

This was what I'd hunted those foolish years in New York.

I knew before I knew his name or touched his hand

and for an endless moment I seemed to float like a feather

blown to a place where time had stopped.

Strange.

I thought then of daffodils.

You were living that fight.

You soaked it all in. Love, hate, the passion.

You've been starved for feelings, any real feelings.

I thought, the 20th-century sleeping beauty.

Wealthy American girl who has lived her life wrapped in cotton wool,

but she wants to wake up.

Maybe she can.

Is it as hard as all that?

Most people are asleep.

My dear, it must have been frightful!

- I'm Mark Lamphere. - How do you do?

Arthur went absolutely berserk after his 12th bourbon.

Chased the chambermaid down three flights of stairs.

He only wanted to pinch!

Then he ended up bathing in the patio fountain for an audience of hundreds.

Sit down. I'm not as poisonous as I look.

I'm afraid they had to hurt the poor dear in order to quiet him.

- What did you say your name is? - Mark Lamphere.

He's been telling me that I'm a sleeping beauty.

Oh, quite an original approach.

I suppose then that you, Prince Charming,

will kill the dragon, hack your way through the hedge

and give her the magic kiss, hm?

Till now I'd forgotten about the dragon

and I somehow think that the hedge is only camouflage.

- Yes... - Darling, shouldn't you be with Arthur?

No.

Oh... yes. Yes, of course.

Arthur will be touched when I tell him you're so concerned.

You may consider the dragon routed, Mr Lamphere.

The next days we were together 24 hours a day.

The third night we stopped at the little wishing well.

Celia, when are you going back to New York?

We're taking the noon plane tomorrow.

I wasn't going to tell you.

I wanted you to know me much better.

I know you fairly well.

You're an architect. There's a vogue for your work among people who know.

You publish a magazine on modern architecture that leads the field.

Yes, that's the factual Mark Lamphere,

but... there's another Mark I wanted you to know.

Uh-uh.

Mark, I want to be honest with you.

Something these past three days,

something in you threw me off my course.

Celia...

I'm afraid I might close the door to a quiet, familiar room where I'll be safe,

there's a warm fire burning on the hearth and...

And R.D.?

Yes.

- Do you wanna make a wish? - Do you believe in it?

There's probably a dusty little man that rakes the centavos out every morning

and blesses the credulous fools that throw them in.

Well, to be on the safe side...

What did you wish?

Celia... I need you.

I need you more than...

One door closed and another opened wide

and I went through and never looked behind

because wind was there and space and sun and storm.

Everything was beyond that door.

That night I wrote to Bob.

Suddenly I'm afraid.

I'm marrying a stranger.

A man I don't know at all.

I could leave.

I could run away. There's still time.

But what would people say?

No, I can't leave. It just isn't done.

But I'm afraid.

My dear friends.

You are about to enter upon a union of which God himself is the author.

With this ring I thee wed and I plight unto thee my troth.

Maybe I should've followed the dark voice in my heart.

Maybe I should've run away.

It started on our honeymoon.

The Hacienda dos Encantos.

The famous fountain.

Legend says that if lovers drink from it

they will thereafter speak only from their hearts

and will keep no secrets from each other,

so that their two hearts will become truly one.

Oh, don't move.

The doorways, the grillwork, the walls,

distilled romance.

It's built into the place.

- Do you know what I think? - Don't think.

Just feel.

I might have known. No woman can think.

Now wait!

But, darling, no woman should even try.

- Thinking is the prerogative of men. - So?

And because women are nearer to nature,

they don't think, they feel.

A man may take several hours of hard thinking

to come to the same result to which a woman comes

by instinct in a split second.

There was a poet who said, "Women are happy and children and animals,

but we human beings, we are not."

Oh!

If that's spoken from your heart, darn the fountain.

But it's true, my gentle dove.

As intelligence improves, instinct withers away.

We become over-civilized, inhibited.

Inhibited is certainly a word for you.

Oh, thank you.

No, you stay away.

But, seriously, I should've needed months of research

to find a place like this,

that's really felicitous, inviting for love.

It is a happy place.

You know, I have a hobby.

I'm collecting rooms, felicitous rooms.

Felicitous rooms for felicitous people?

Right. That's why I put out this magazine.

If I can't build houses according to my theories at least I can talk about them.

My main thesis is that the way a place is built determines what happens in it.

For instance, here's a church in Austria where miracles happen.

The lame walk, the blind see.

And there's a room at Carter's Grove, near Williamsburg,

known as the refusal room because it jinxes love affairs.

A girl refused George Washington there

and later Jefferson proposed and was turned down cold in the same room.

Certain rooms cause violence, even murders.

Mark, my sweet lamb, you're tetched in the head.

Yeah, maybe I am.

Come here, darling.

That fountain's done enough damage.

Complaints. Do I talk too much?

Well, right now I'd settle for a little less talk.

Señora! Señora!

Señora, come. Your bath is ready.

Paquita's sense of timing needs adjustment.

I was just going to mix you a drink.

- I'll bet. - Mm.

Come up as soon as she leaves me.

I'll take a rain check on that drink.

Ow!

Today, 200 strokes.

You're plotting to make me late!

Señora, in marriage,

where one is wise, two are happy.

A woman has patience.

A man, none.

Shush!

Señora, let him wait.

Get out!

200 strokes.

Oh, Mark!

Mark, where are you?

Mark, you sweet dope.

Mark?

You can't get away from me.

Oh, darling, I love you so much.

- We won't be separated long. - What?

If I start now, I can make El Valle in five hours,

allowing for bad roads and night driving.

There's a midnight plane from there to Mexico City.

What are you talking about?

The Stanton company, the New York publishing company.

They've always wanted to buy my magazine.

Unfortunately their offer holds only until the day after tomorrow.

You want to sell your magazine?

Who said anything about want?

- It's been losing money steadily. - If it's just a question of money...

I know you have money, my dear, but it's not why I married you.

Why give up something you have your heart in?

Actually, I'm glad that their offer is big enough to force me to make a decision.

Shall we have a drink?

What made you decide so suddenly?

I had a telegram from their managing editor an hour ago.

I'll send a car for you with a driver. You can meet me at Levender Falls.

Not in New York?

No.

The Lampheres have lived at Levender Falls since 1698.

It's the other side of the river.

Little better than an hour's drive from New York.

Well, our first so long.

Mark...

Didn't you come upstairs just now?

No.

To be honest I was too upset when I got that telegram.

But... I saw the door handle move.

Mark, you're hurt!

Nothing important.

Just the perfect ending to a beautiful day.

Well... till Levender Falls.

His kiss was cold.

In an hour he was gone and I was alone.

Señora.

I won't want anything more tonight. Thank you, Paquita.

Sí, señora.

Yes, Paquita?

Señora, I am an old meddling woman, but of pain I know much.

Paquita...

Better you know it now, señora.

There was no telegram.

Here no telegram can come.

Thank you, Paquita, but you must be mistaken.

Sí, señora.

Of course there was no telegram,

but when Paquita told me, the pain started.

Why had he gone?

Why had he lied?

It was agony.

I tried not to think anymore.

But my mind was on a treadmill.

Why had he lied?

Why had he gone?

Why had he lied? Why had he gone?

Because I locked the door?

He said he hadn't come up, but he had.

I knew it was Mark who tried the door. I knew it all the time.

Surely my childish prank couldn't have changed his love for me,

so why had he gone?

Why had he lied?

Why had he gone? Why had he lied?

I couldn't stand it any longer.

I had to try to sleep.

Maybe Paquita was wrong.

Maybe the telegram came by mail or was sent from the next town.

But Paquita wasn't wrong.

There was no telegram.

For some impossible reason he'd lied to me.

I lay there for hours.

Or so it seemed to me.

I couldn't sleep.

Over and over and over and over, the one thought,

"Why doesn't he love me anymore?"

Finally, I must have fallen into a kind of half-sleep.

And I dreamed I heard the car coming back.

It came closer and closer

and stopped in front of the Hacienda.

Mark was in it. He'd come back.

But I wasn't glad.

I was afraid and my fear woke me up.

Yes?

Señora, the car came back.

The driver say I must give this to you pronto.

The letter is good, sí?

Oh, Paquita, I've been such a fool!

Such a silly, stupid fool!

Five long days later my train pulled in to Levender Falls.

Train for Hartsville,

Timpson, Shermerville.

I was looking for Mark.

But there was no sign of him anywhere.

Instead I found myself being kissed by a stranger.

You must be Celia.

Mark said you were beautiful.

I'm Carol... Carrie, Mark's sister.

Oh, of course.

I'm relieved to hear that he mentioned me.

He's apt to disregard minor details.

- Is all of this yours? - Part of it. And some trunks.

Give me the checks. I'll have them picked up for you tomorrow.

Thank you.

I wired Mark.

Yes, he was delayed in New York. He'll be here tomorrow for sure.

I think it's beastly of him.

- Oh, Lem! - Ma'am.

- Would you put these bags in my car? - Yes, Miss Lamphere.

It's a 12-mile drive from Levender Falls to Blaze Creek.

Mark does all his creative work at the house.

He thought of moving his New York office to Levender Falls

when rents became simply criminal.

He had to cut a lot of corners to make ends meet,

but Mark finally decided he needed the New York front.

We're rather short on servants. We've only one old couple.

It was probably David sizing you up.

- David? - Yes, Mark's son.

Andy!

Andy and Sarah are slow as molasses.

Andy!

- Andy? - Yes, ma'am.

- Didn't you hear the car? - No, ma'am.

This is Mrs Lamphere, Andy.

- How do you do, Andy? - How do you do, ma'am?

- Mrs Lamphere's luggage is in the car. - Yes, ma'am.

- Come. I'll show you to your room. - Thank you.

Why didn't Mark tell me that he'd been married, that he has a son?

I want to have Mark's children, but not another woman's child.

The masks were collected by my great-grandfather Lesley,

who was a sea captain. Hideous, aren't they?

I suppose David loves them.

- Not anymore. - Strange.

I should think any boy would.

David is a strange boy.

This is one of the newer wings.

Father started it and Mark did the rest

when he needed more space for his workroom.

I think you'll be comfortable here once you get settled.

I'm sure of it, Carrie.

I imagine you'll want a day or two to adjust before you take over.

What? I'm sorry, Carrie.

I was wool-gathering.

Oh, just put them anywhere, Andy.

I asked when you wanted to start managing the house.

I'm bone-lazy, Carrie. I like to sleep till 11 o'clock or later.

I'm not even conscious until I've had three cups of coffee.

You'd save my life if you kept on.

Just as you say.

I was managing Blaze Creek even before mother died.

Anyway, I'll need time to make friends with David.

That will take time.

I told Sarah to keep the water heater going until you got here.

I thought you might want a bath. I'll run it for you.

What does he like?

- Who? - David.

Oh. Books.

Is that all?

He's very difficult since his mother died.

- Didn't Mark warn you? - Oh, yes, he did.

- This is the bedroom. - Oh, it's lovely.

The wallpaper is very old.

Mark got it at an auction in Paris. The candlesticks, too.

It's really dreamy.

Yes, I've always liked this room.

Eleanor had a real flair for decoration.

Mark does neglect details. He didn't tell you?

I'd forgotten her name was Eleanor.

Well, that shows you aren't jealous at any rate.

That would be rather foolish of me, wouldn't it?

Very sensible.

Eleanor had a certain charm,

but there was an enameled quality, an aloofness.

I never asked if you were hungry. What would you like?

Oh, I eat everything.

Fine. I'll fix a tray for you while you have your bath.

Thank you.

Carrie?

Carrie?

I'm sorry. I was looking for Miss Lamphere.

I'm Miss Robey, Mr Lamphere's secretary.

May I help you?

I'm Celia Barrett.

I mean, Mrs Lamphere.

I think I saw you at the window when I came in.

- It was you I saw. - No.

Well, it was rather dark. Caroline thought it was David.

Very likely.

I'm looking forward so much to meeting him.

He isn't feeling well tonight since this afternoon.

Oh, I suppose it's because of me.

He was very much attached to his mother.

I can understand how that makes him somewhat difficult.

No, he isn't difficult.

Only someone who hasn't the time

or doesn't care to take the trouble to know him would think that.

David's a fine boy.

Nervous, maybe and sensitive, but he resents domination.

That's ridiculous, Miss Robey.

He's spoiled.

We nearly had a flood, my dear.

Good heavens, the tub!

I turned it off in the nick of time. Your supper's waiting.

Good night, Miss Robey.

Good night, Mrs Lamphere.

I wish she'd mind her own business.

Domination!

I know what David needs.

Love, of course, but a firm hand.

I suppose he misses his mother very much.

Eleanor pampered him,

probably because she and Mark became so completely estranged.

The break was final after he came back from the war.

He moved into the little room adjoining the study.

When Eleanor became ill she shut herself off from everyone.

Except David.

I noticed that none of Mark's things were in there.

I was going to file a protest.

They came this afternoon.

Sarah kept them in the refrigerator until you got here.

The rat!

- They're from Mark. - So I imagine.

And now, to coin a phrase, I could eat a horse.

Everything was raised right here at Blaze Creek, even the milk.

- We keep a Jersey. - She's very good-looking.

Who?

- Miss Robey. - Oh.

She used to be.

When David was four the summer house caught fire and she saved his life.

One side of her face was burned.

I wondered why she was wearing that scarf.

It's a pity for a woman to be disfigured, but she uses it as a hold over Mark.

I think gratitude has its limits, but you know Mark.

You'd think he was old enough to know these things.

I guess men don't live to be that old.

Incidentally, what time does my beast get in tomorrow?

The middle of the night for you. 10am.

Good grief!

How could he do that to me?

But I'll fix him. I'll be there.

- Cheers! We made it! - With a minute to spare by the clock.

Mark! Mark!

Oh, darling!

Your heart is beating so fast!

I'm flesh and blood, remember. I can feel your heart too.

I'm tired.

You look tired, darling.

Efficiently tired. Has it been bad?

Not good.

Didn't the sale go through?

As soon as they found out I needed the money, they got cagey

and withdrew the offer.

I... I must see Townsend at the bank before lunch.

Oh, darling, our first day?

Tell Andy to pick me up about five.

I'll see you at dinner.

- When's the next train for New York? - 4:40, ma'am.

- Thank you. - Yes, ma'am.

Good morning, Mrs Lamphere.

Do you want Andy to take your trunks now?

No, thank you.

- Leave them here. - Yes.

Home.

Home! Where is home?

Not with Mark. Not anymore.

It was a gamble and I lost.

Period.

I'm going back to New York.

Back to what?

To the empty life I lived before,

before Mark?

If only Rick were alive.

I could go home to Rick, but what would he say?

There's only one question, he would say,

"Do you love him or don't you?"

And can stuff about your pride and how your feelings are hurt.

Do you want a man or a husband off the assembly line

with freewheeling and fingertip control?

Those were big words you said in front of that altar.

Love, honor, for better, for worse,

including the times when he's worried and moody.

After all, you're no easy dish yourself.

Andy, would you mind driving back to the station?

I'd like you to pick up my trunks.

How do you do? I'm David.

How do you do, David?

I'm glad you're feeling better.

Thank you.

Am I disturbing you?

Thanks. I'm happy to have this chance to meet you alone, David.

Miss Robey has told me lots of nice things about you.

I like Miss Robey.

Aunt Caroline wouldn't agree with you.

What are you interested in, David?

In what way?

In becoming.

- An architect, too, I suppose? - No!

What are you reading?

I appreciate that you're trying to make friends with me.

Yes, I am.

But there are things I'm afraid you won't understand.

I'll never try to take your mother's place, David.

You couldn't. Let's leave it this way.

Apparently, you're honest.

It's not usual in this house.

I was prepared to dislike you.

But I find I have nothing against you.

I shall call you Mrs Lamphere.

Fair enough, but... I hope that later...

- It's Father. - Excuse me, will you, David?

Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?

You're not angry?

I buttered my bread. Now I have to lie in it.

Uh-uh. I choose the weapons and the battleground.

Come upstairs.

Hmm. Was there a cyclone?

I'd call it an earthquake!

The ground's been shaking under my feet ever since I got here.

Lamphere skeletons come rattling out of every closet.

Mark, why didn't you tell me you'd been married?

Hmm, darling, I thought that you must have seen it

when we went to get the marriage license.

I remember thinking how tactful you were not to mention it.

Rick always told me to read everything, including the fine print.

But you never even mentioned David or...

It all seemed so far away, so unrelated to you.

Mark...

Right after you left me at the station, I wanted to go straight back to New York.

- And then I had a talk with Rick. - Hm?

Oh, I conjured him up and he read me the Riot Act.

Finally he asked me one straight question

and the answer was yes.

Yes, what?

Yes, I love you.

But I can't help wondering if you love me.

You're... talking about Eleanor.

Celia, she was a gentle person.

Not cold, but...

...I couldn't give her love.

I blame myself, but it just wasn't a marriage.

But you had a son.

I was never close to him, either.

He blamed me for her unhappiness.

Was she very unhappy?

I don't understand the things she cared for

and I couldn't make her understand the things that were important to me.

Well, let's not make the same mistake.

I can understand.

If you don't shut me out.

What about this morning?

I'm always that way when I'm worried. I know it's no excuse.

But I couldn't get the magazine out of my mind.

- What happened at the bank? - I went in, but couldn't ask for a loan.

The Lampheres have been looked up to for so many years.

I can't let the town know that we need money.

I have to sell, that's all.

Now listen, darling, and please don't interrupt.

When I mentioned this before, you were awfully stuffy and old hat about it.

- I'm not rich, but I have money. - No, Celia, please.

Mark, I'm your wife. That means I'm more than the babe you whistled at.

I whistled?

Well, you whistled with your eyes.

I'm that, but I wanna be everything else, too. I want to share your life.

No, Celia, please, I'd feel ashamed. Let's not discuss it.

Oh, Mark, you're just like a turtle.

One wrong word and boom!

I'm talking to a shell that thick.

Family characteristic.

Comes down from old snapper Lamphere,

known as the swamp king.

Now, may I go and change my shell for dinner?

One more thing.

I wanna collect on that rain check you gave me in Mexico.

I can see that this is the day that all my sins have found me out.

We had passed our first test.

A week later we had our housewarming.

It was a perfect party.

Everyone talked and nobody listened

and everybody took offense at everything.

Then nature joined the conversation

and suddenly there was unanimous agreement.

Bless the rain!

When it started I was in the clutches of one of your local hayseeds.

Look.

Cuddlesome, isn't he?

There's literally nothing I don't know by now about lamb chops.

On the hook.

I like mine medium-rare.

Oh, Bob! Wha... Doesn't Mark have the decency to be jealous?

- Uh-uh. - Did you just get here?

No. I saw you on the lawn. As usual you were going yackety-yack.

Oh, it's a wonderful party.

I got rid of gallons of repressed poisons.

Paging Mr Freud.

Oh, darling, my subconscious is a booby trap!

Behave, you two.

- Is she happy? - Punch-drunk.

He hasn't a button.

Not a blessed suit, except for what his magazine brings in.

All this is mortgaged to the hilt.

- I watched you every minute. - I, too.

- I've missed you. - You'd better.

How much longer...? Oh.

I've been trying all afternoon to catch you two alone.

Mind if I intrude on your pink cloud?

Come aboard. I appreciate your coming.

To be honest, Celia's letter from Mexico didn't make me jump for joy.

Well, I hope not.

I can't promise to make her as happy as I am.

Oh, stop now. You two make me feel like a beetle on a pin!

- Mark? - Hm?

There are too many people in the library. Show some of them your rooms.

I don't know, Carrie. I haven't seen them myself since I came back.

- Celia, I told you about them in Mexico. - I'd love to see them.

You have to, Mark, to split them up. I'll suggest games to the others.

Very well, Carrie. Let's go and see how many customers we have.

- Rooms? - Mark has a hobby.

He collects rooms like some people collect butterflies.

They're somehow connected with happy events. He has a theory...

...that under certain conditions a room can influence or even determine,

the actions of the people living in it. The first room that you're about to see

is the salon of the Countess de Beaumanoir.

It was sealed by her husband on the morning of August 25th, 1572.

- It's beautiful. - It's gorgeous.

I first heard of it in Paris nine years ago.

It started my collection.

It must have cost considerable to copy a room like this?

It isn't a copy.

These are the original rooms down to their last detail, as much as possible.

I bet there's a love story.

- Not exactly. - What happened?

Murder, my dear.

It was the eve of St Bartholomew's Day.

The Guise family, to which the count belonged, had planned, you will recall,

to murder all the Huguenots in Paris.

The count was a religious bigot.

When he discovered that his beloved wife, Celeste,

was secretly a Huguenot, she was nothing to him anymore.

A thing without a soul.

She was lying on the chaise-longue, reading, when he came in.

- Did he poison her? - Why? Oh, you mean the glass?

No, no. That was mine.

But if you notice the handkerchief on the couch,

there's a little blood.

It was a rapier thrust.

In room number two, the weapon was less conventional.

The killer used the floods of 1913.

This was the cellar of a house in Barton, Missouri,

where the floods were especially severe.

He was a sordid little rat.

- Who was the victim? - His mother.

That's rather rare. Murder of a mother by her son.

She's a brain psych major.

In many cases the murder of a girlfriend or a wife

has its psychological roots in an unconscious hatred for the mother.

As I see it, the motive was common as dirt.

The old lady was insured.

He tied her to that chair.

The waters were rising.

You can see how high the waters rose.

Don Ignazio couldn't stand the sight of blood.

He was a cultivated man.

As you can see by this room, even in the wilderness of Paraguay,

in his hacienda surrounded by desolate pampas,

he lived a cosmopolitan life.

He'd been educated in Paris.

To Don Ignazio, murder, as well as love, was a fine art

and in both he was a master and a perfectionist.

Constancia, Maria, Isabella, they were all girls of flawless beauty.

Before Don Ignazio faced the firing squad,

he swore that he never intended to murder.

That what he hoped for was an ultimate and lasting love,

but that something...

He spoke of an unholy emanation from this room

drove him inevitably to kill.

Pretty far-fetched.

For Don Ignazio it seemed the most apt.

A pity for him that in his day nothing was known yet about psychoanalysis.

- The room had nothing to do with it? - 'Course it did. Very important.

Something happened to him here, perhaps in his childhood,

and he'd made a resolution in this room to kill.

His conscious mind had forgotten all about it, but...

- But he still killed. - Naturally, but he didn't know why.

He just had to.

But if he'd been able to tell someone, like a psychoanalyst,

what it was that happened here, no murder would have been necessary.

Unless, of course, his love for his victims made it necessary.

Now our next murderer, compared to Don Ignazio,

was a blundering amateur.

Didn't you say happy events?

I'm sure that's what Mark said.

I must have misunderstood him, I...

Mark wouldn't lie to me.

Celia...

When Rick died he left me with certain responsibilities and...

Well, I... I may not be alone with you again.

You signed a power of attorney last week. Do you realize

it gives Mark the same power over your trust fund that you have?

Complete control over all your money?

But he needed money for his magazine.

The magazine makes pretty good money.

Bob, you're jealous!

- If you feel that way, Celia. - I'm sorry, but I know Mark.

He wouldn't do anything unfair.

And they say women are canny.

Mark's a lucky fellow.

First wife's money runs out, she dies.

Second wife, plenty of scraps.

- Nice work! - You don't wanna make a scene, Celia.

- It's vicious. - Gossip, Celia. Ignore it.

I had to beg Mark to use my money. I forced him to...

You tell me to ignore gossip, but you believe it yourself.

Celia!

Ah! But there's not a bale in the loft.

I admit we women provide plenty of provocation, Mark,

but there must be some way short of murder

to demonstrate male exasperation!

From Eve till today, women are our greatest temptation.

That is the last of the rooms to be seen. The guide is not allowed to accept tips.

Oh... we haven't seen this one, have we?

- No. - Isn't it complete?

- Yes. - Then don't let's skip it.

Why, it's locked.

This must be tops in gruesomeness.

Come on, Mark. Open up.

A man must have some secrets.

Danger, darling. Danger. Never trust a man with secrets.

- Doesn't your husband have any? - Naturally.

It's as instinctive for Arthur to hide things from me

as for a dog to hide bones under a rug.

Arthur!

- What is it, darling? - When the rain started Arthur was...

- Oh, heavens! - What is it?

You know Arthur. One drink too many and he's over the edge.

He was sleeping in one of those canvas chairs at the Forsythia bushes

and I forgot him.

He must be drowned by now.

It's good to be alone with you at last, darling.

- Nightcap? - Mm-hm.

- Mark? - Hm?

Didn't you tell me in Mexico that you collected happy rooms?

Happy? No.

- Felicitous. Is that what you mean? - Mm-hm.

Felicitous doesn't mean happy, darling. Look it up in the dictionary.

It means... happy in effect, fitting, apt.

I use the term to describe an architecture that fits the events that happen in it.

But why only murder rooms, Mark?

Murder comes from a strong emotion.

More direct even than love.

It's the clearest demonstration of my theory.

I was rather shocked.

By the stories? Most people find them pretty potent.

No, it wasn't that. It was you.

Somehow I felt as though I did that night in Mexico

and when I met you at the station.

I don't know what you're talking about, Celia.

It was the way you immersed yourself in those stories,

as if you were almost happy about their deaths.

Mark...

What's in the seventh room?

It will never be shown to anyone.

Not even to you.

Oh, Mark, what do you mean by "never"?

By what I mean.

I'm not just curious, darling.

I don't mean to pry.

I want to understand you, remember?

I have to live my own life.

Since I was a child I've been hemmed in by women wanting to live it for me.

Caroline, Eleanor and now you too. No, thanks!

Surely there can't be anything in the room worth quarrelling about.

I don't want to discuss it!

The room is locked and stays locked!

- Good morning. - Morning, ma'am.

I thought you never got up before 11.

- I couldn't sleep. - Butterflies?

Uh-uh. A little headache.

- What are you planting? - Carnations.

I like carnations.

Deep red ones and lilacs.

She liked lilacs, too, Mr Mark's mother.

All this side of the house was a solid bank of it.

White and purple and that fuzzy kind they call Persian.

What happened to it?

They was dug out when Mr Mark came home from school.

Yes, Mark had them taken out the summer after mother died.

So long ago.

Oh, Andy, I left the bone meal on your work bench.

Yes, ma'am.

Only after dinner.

Celia, I've been trying to tell you for days.

I'm glad you're here.

Thank you, Carrie.

I blame myself so much for Mark's first marriage.

- But Carrie, you aren't... - Yes.

I picked Eleanor for Mark.

I thought him very wild and unsettled and I made up my mind and his

that he had to be married for his own good. But...

I think I'll have that cigarette.

I watched Mark at the party yesterday.

- He must love you very much. - Thank you, Carrie.

You know, as a child Mark was very like David.

Emotional and oversensitive.

I remember once when he was only ten

I locked him in his room, just to tease him.

When he was let out he was beside himself,

screaming and crying with rage.

Are you deaf?

Well, answer me!

I won't put up with your snooping any longer.

What did you think you'd find in my room?

Stop reading when I'm talking to you. What did you think you'd find?

Take that smirk off your face and answer me!

What are you afraid I could find?

- You miserable, disgusting little brat! - Mark, no!

- Mark, you can't! He's only a child! - I've got to, Celia.

If you think you can handle him better than I have, I give you my blessing.

Mark, what in heaven's name...

You seem to have great sympathy and understanding for David, my dear,

and I can see why you might.

I wish you'd try and understand me as well.

I'm sorry, Mrs Lamphere.

But you must never interfere between him and me.

You see...

...he killed my mother.

Funny.

Why do I keep on thinking about red carnations?

And lilacs?

Maybe when pain becomes unbearable, one doesn't feel it anymore.

I came down here...

...to write Edith

that the gardener found her husband's wallet.

David is leaving.

I shouldn't have let him go like that.

I should have defended Mark.

The gardener said he had the lilacs dug out.

Oh, I'm thinking in circles.

I must pull myself together.

The whole thing is ridiculous.

David is oversensitive and high-strung.

But how did Eleanor die?

How did Eleanor die?

She felt that Mark didn't love her.

When she became ill,

the desire to live might have turned the balance but she didn't want to.

She had no resistance left.

She loved Mark, but he didn't love her.

Can one kill by purposely denying someone love?

By taking away the desire to live?

When Mr Mark came back from war, he couldn't do enough to help.

Every day he brought her books or fruit or flowers

and he always gave her her medicine himself.

Mr Mark is the soul of kindness.

I know, Sarah.

I know.

Hit by a car, they didn't stop. Miss Robey, get the first-aid kid.

I don't wanna bring him in the house. His paw is bleeding.

The soul of kindness, tender and gentle.

What goes on in this mind that he can change so suddenly?

He keeps it locked, like this door.

I have to open them both, for his sake.

Mark?

Yes?

If you won't come to my rooms anymore, I have to come to yours.

- Do we have something to talk about? - I think so.

David.

I've no intention of discussing David.

Mark...

Mark, it's such an impossible situation.

I've no time to listen.

I'm in a hurry. I'm having dinner in town.

Stupid of me to... take it off.

Lamphere stayed in town overnight and it's so early.

But why do you want people to think you're disfigured?

There was a scar.

A very unpleasant one.

When I saved David's life, in a way I saved myself too.

I was gonna be fired.

Is the word too blunt for you, Mrs Lamphere?

To me it's basic English. One of the key words.

Mark was going to...?

Oh, no, not he.

Caroline and Eleanor wanted me out of the house.

Afterward everybody was very grateful.

Their gratitude has... has been my social security.

- But... - Plastic surgery during my vacations.

I intended letting them know, but when I heard he was...

When you heard he'd married me. Was that why, Miss Robey?

You hoped he might marry you.

Now I suppose you'll tell him.

If you don't want me to, no.

I promise I won't tell anyone.

Come on now, Miss Robey. Come on.

We'll both forget this morning.

Where is your purse?

Miss Robey?

Shh.

Is there anyone there?

I want New York, Gramercy 42757.

This is 926.

Hello? Operator?

Hello? Is somebody there?

What?

All right. Please call me back then.

No. Mrs Lamphere.

Are you busy?

Shall I come back later?

No. I was calling Edith.

Were you in my room just now?

No, Mark. Why?

I wondered.

Celia, I think you're right.

We do have to talk about David.

Yes, Mark.

That wasn't our first quarrel.

I like him, really, but sometimes I feel he rejects me

and that does something to me.

I feel a sort of frenzy.

And... when you defended him...

Celia, you mean so much to me.

What about David?

Well, I've been thinking, darling.

Everything here reminds him of his mother.

If we send him to school in New York, he'll be with boys of his own age.

And you'll have time to tame me, hm?

Well, I hadn't thought of that, but now that you...

What is it, Mark?

One of the candles is shorter than the other.

Does it matter, darling?

It jars me somehow. It breaks the symmetry.

I'll tell Edith I'll call back.

Uh-uh. I'll see you later.

I have to shave, anyway.

Hello? Edith...

Why can't Miss Robey go with me?

She knows New York.

The main job is buying your clothes. I know how to shop.

I telephoned Bob.

He said he'd get here in the evening to drive David in, if he can make it.

Otherwise he'd meet him at Grand Central.

You'll like Bob, David.

Oh, is David's registration there?

Here's something.

That's it.

From Edith.

Time seems to stand still when you wait for everyone else to sleep.

If I don't do it now, I'll never dare.

It's Eleanor's room.

The bed she died in.

David is right, but no...

This room is a copy.

The others are actual rooms.

What can it mean?

Where are her things?

The little things that made the room hers?

Isn't the room finished?

But Mark said it was finished.

Oh, Mark, darling, you blame yourself, you torture yourself.

You think you killed because you couldn't give her love.

That's why the room is only a copy. You couldn't kill.

The candles!

It's my room.

It's waiting for me.

Don Ignazio's room.

I saw light in your rooms.

I wanna get away. I wanna leave.

I'll get your coat.

It's miles to the station.

Here's the key to the station wagon.

Thanks, Miss Robey.

Constancia.

Maria.

Isabella.

It'll be a curious trial.

The people of the state of New York versus Mark Lamphere.

Charged with the murder of his wife, Celia.

Exhibit A.

What can I answer when I'm asked if the murder was premeditated?

Premeditated?

I planned it all my life.

The record shows that you met your wife

- only this spring in Mexico. - Yes.

And I loved her very much and somehow...

...I felt as though I had been searching for her all my life.

- To kill her! - No.

That... came later.

There is a rumor that you also killed your first wife, Eleanor.

No.

I blamed myself. That's why I built the room.

She died because I didn't love her

and maybe unconsciously I...

...wanted her to die.

But no man is responsible for his unconscious thoughts.

If you aren't responsible for your thoughts, who is?

A man thinks according to the life he's led.

All my life I was dominated by women.

As a child, by my mother.

When she left me, when she died, by Caroline and by Eleanor.

I never lived a life of my own

and I may have thought of...

But you can't try a man for his thoughts!

But for the consequences of his thoughts.

I didn't kill Eleanor.

But you did kill your wife, Celia.

I tried not to kill.

The first time, in Mexico, I ran away from her.

The impulse to kill faded.

I thought I'd dreamed it.

Then when she met me at the station at Levender Falls...

...I felt a deep, gentle kind of love.

Until...

I don't know what it was.

It swept over me like a haze.

She became someone else.

Someone I had to kill.

I fought it down over and over again.

There are dark forces in this world.

We're, all of us, children of Kane.

We've, all of us, once thought of murder.

I can't help myself.

I love her but, so help me God,

if Celia were here, I'd still have to kill her.

Oh, Mr Mark, you didn't answer.

Miss Caroline wonders, are you coming down to breakfast?

Breakfast.

Tell Miss Caroline I'll come down.

Mark, I cannot run an organized household

without some kind of cooperation.

I'm taking David to New York today

and I have to do the breakfast dishes before I leave.

Andy and Sarah are going to Levender Falls for the grain celebration.

No one has the slightest consideration for me.

Miss Robey overslept. Celia isn't even in her room.

I know. She won't be here for breakfast.

Miss Robey.

Make out your final check.

I want you to leave Blaze Creek as soon as possible.

Mark!

I ask a certain amount of loyalty of my employees.

Miss Robey has demonstrated,

very plainly, that she will go to some lengths to deceive me.

She told you.

I was stupid enough to trust her when she said she wouldn't.

Now you don't have to be grateful anymore!

What does she mean?

Who told you what?

What did she do, Mark?

She tried to interfere in my life...

...and I'm sick and tired of interference.

Yes, but...

I always thought she...

But Mark, now I'll have to stay.

I gather from your attitude that Celia has gone somewhere.

I can't ask Andy and Sarah to stay.

They've been looking forward to the celebration for weeks. You'll be alone.

I want to be alone.

And for the first time in your life, Carrie, I'm going to have what I want.

I thought you left, last night.

I did.

I ran in to Bob on the lawn.

He'd come for David and had lost his way in the fog.

I went with him to Levender Falls.

Why?

Why did you come back?

Because I love you.

Because I married you, for better or for worse.

Andy's going to drive us to the station. Bob Dwight didn't show up.

Celia's back.

Oh, I'm glad, Mark. I'm so glad.

I want you and David to stay.

No. Now I have to go.

Ever since breakfast I've been thinking, Mark.

I always meant it for your good,

planning things for you, arranging things for you.

But instead I only kept you from being happy.

Carrie, you've got to stay.

No. If you and Celia have differences, they won't be settled with me here.

Go up to her and talk it out. I know you love her.

If we're going to catch the train, we've gotta leave.

Goodbye, Mark.

I can't be alone with her.

I can't.

Celia.

I am leaving. I have to go to New York.

I'll miss you.

You'll be all alone here. Everyone's left.

You'd better go to Levender Falls for the night.

I'm not afraid.

Celia... I love you very much.

I know.

In three hours there'll be 100 miles between us.

In three weeks 10,000.

I must get away from her.

As far as possible.

Going to New York?

I forgot something. At home.

Hello? Who is it?

Who?

Oh, Miss Robey.

No, Mr Lamphere's gone to New York.

No, I don't know when he's coming back.

Good night, Miss Robey.

I knew you wanted to kill me last night, Mark,

and I know why you've come back now.

Last night I wanted to save myself,

but I'd rather be dead than live without you.

That would be a slow death... for a lifetime.

Yes.

Lilacs have something to do with it.

Search your mind, darling.

There's something hidden in your mind so deep,

hidden so far back that you no longer know it's there.

You're keeping something locked up in your mind, Mark,

for the same reason you've kept this room locked up.

Because you don't want anybody to know what's in it.

Once you said you loved me,

but something hidden forces you to hate me, to kill me.

I don't hate you.

The day I met you at the station, you wanted to kiss me,

until you saw the lilac in my lapel.

My mother loved lilac.

But you had all the bushes rooted out when she died.

I loved my mother.

Caroline told me you loved her very much.

Did your mother hurt you, Mark, when you were a child?

Did you hear?

I locked the door in Mexico. That's when it began.

It was summer.

A beautiful summer.

I was ten years old.

I'd forgotten that summer, all of it.

Because you didn't want to remember.

Mother and Father were separated.

I didn't care. She was my whole world.

I was with her in the garden that afternoon.

I can hear the bees humming over the flowers even now.

She picked masses of lilac.

I helped her carry them to the house. We put some in every room.

Locking the door! What about locking the door?

She was going out that night, dancing.

I was jealous.

Carrie teased me. She always teased me.

I begged Mother not to go.

Finally, she said that when I was ready for bed

I could come to her room and she'd read to me.

It would have meant so much.

She should have known.

When I was ready for bed, I went to the door...

You were locked in!

She locked me in.

I heard her turn the key.

I called her, but she left for the dance.

I pounded on the door until there was blood on my hands,

until the nails were torn to the quick.

I ran to the window and I saw her drive away with a man.

I called her. Then I cried.

It was the last time in my life that I cried.

I snatched the lilacs,

strangled them, crushed them, killed them!

I wanted to kill her!

But I was only ten. I hated her.

And I knew that someday, someday...

Tonight.

Caroline locked the door, Mark! It wasn't your mother!

She told me! She told me!

Mark!

It's locked.

That's what I heard. The key turn.

Stand aside.

Celia!

Mark!

Celia.

Celia!

Cel...

Mark... I didn't know you were in there.

That night you killed the root of the evil in me,

but I still have a long way to go.

We have a long way to go.