All language subtitles for Outlander.S02E02.720p.HDTV.X264-DIMENSION

Previously...

If I don't set that hand,
he'll be crippled for life.

These men must be quarantined.

There's nothing more you can do here.

The Comte will not forget what happened.

You've made an enemy here today.

The Duke of Sandringham likes to talk.

It certainly is a most
extraordinary document.

We can infiltrate the Jacobite movement.

Get close to the key players

and find a way to disrupt their plans.

Your cousin Jared lives in Paris.

He can vouch for us.

What is the fire that burns within you?

- I'm sorry I doubted you.
- You'll help us, then?

Run the wine business in my absence.

And in return, I will give you
the run of my house in Paris.

You don't trust me to
know the true reason

behind this cloth of lies.

I vow to you, I'll tell you
everything that has happened,

at the proper time.

♪ Sing me a song ♪

♪ Of a lass that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lass ♪

♪ Be I? ♪

♪ Merry of soul ♪

♪ She sailed on a day ♪

♪ Over the sea ♪

♪ To Skye ♪

♪ Billow and breeze ♪

♪ Islands and seas ♪

♪ Mountains of rain and sun ♪

♪ All that was good ♪

♪ All that was fair ♪

♪ All that was me ♪

♪ Is gone ♪

(SINGING IN FRENCH)

♪ ♪

♪ Over the sea ♪

♪ To Skye ♪

- sync and corrections by Caio -
- www.addic7ed.com -

_

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(CLAIRE BREATHING HEAVILY)

(BOTH MOANING)

Oh, don't stop.

(SPEAKING GAELIC)

(GASPS, BREATHING HEAVILY)

Is it another one? Another nightmare?

He's gone, Jamie.

He's alive...

in my head.

I canna get him out.

You will in time.

I promise.

I won't be getting any
more sleep tonight.

I'll, uh, be going over
this week's receipts.

Black Jack Randall is dead.

I know.

See you in the morning, Sassenach.

(DOOR CLOSES)

I noticed Madame has folded her
clothes again this morning.

Yes, Suzette.

Why does Madame insist
on making her own bed

and folding her own clothes?

- (DOOR OPENS)
- I suppose it's habit.

I'm just not used to having
servants around me all the time,

attending to my every need.

But a woman of your distinction...

and with child, no less...
it is just not done.

Fine. I will endeavor to be
sloppier in my personal habits.

Oh, Madame.

Oh, that would make me so happy.

I should be gone an hour or two.

That should give you plenty of
time to strip and remake my bed

to your satisfaction.

Oh, Madame, you are too kind.

(SIGHS)

Good morning, Madame.
Your carriage awaits you.

Of course it does.

Running a great house in Paris

had proved more complicated
than I'd ever imagined.

Fortunately, Jared had selected
his servants with care,

so we had no worries regarding
their trustworthiness.

Even after several weeks,
Paris itself remained

an endless source of fascination.

As I gazed upon the quaint city streets,

I found it hard to believe
that in a mere 40 years,

the French Revolution would
turn them into rivers of blood.

The last time I had been here

was during the delirious celebration

marking the end of the Second World War.

I had hoped to climb to the
top of the Eiffel Tower,

but the Nazis had closed
it during the occupation,

and it had yet to reopen.

Now I had arrived a hundred
years before it existed.

(SIGHS) _

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Madame?

(INDISTINCT CHATTER CONTINUES)

(MYSTERIOUS MUSIC)

♪ ♪

Madame?

_

_

_

_

_

_

Then I shall make it easier for you.

Mustard...

thyme in walnut oil, I believe, but...

what on Earth do you use
to make it smell so nasty?

I see your nose is not
purely decorative, Madonna.

As for the smell, well, um...

that, actually, is blood.

But not crocodile blood.

So much cynicism in one so young.

No, in fact...

it's pig's blood, Madonna...

pigs being so much more
available than crocodiles.

Fortunately, the ladies and
gentlemen of the Court

are more trusting and
foolish than you are.

- I was wondering...
- Hmm.

Do you carry Nepeta cataria?

Someone having trouble sleeping?

My husband.

Is the problem the result
of excessive eating

or drinking, perhaps, a
nervous disposition?

It's nightmares.

I see.

Then I would, uh, suggest, uh...

Uh, Delphine, s'il vous plaît.

Yes, I would suggest, uh...

Valeriana officinalis...

Combined with a touch

of Humulus lupulus.

(SIGHS)

(CHUCKLES)

You have a knowledge
of herbs, haven't you?

You're a professional, are you?

Well, I suppose that would
depend on what you mean

by the term "professional."

I'm a healer.

Ah...

a healer.

I see.

The size and overall look is as stated.

Your name wouldn't happen to
be Claire Fraser, would it?

Yes, it is.

Are you a mind reader as well?

No, but I have an excellent
memory for names, and, uh...

yes... I've recently heard yours

in connection with your
rather dramatic arrival

on our shores.

Comte St. Germain told
me all about your part

in the burning of his
pox-afflicted vessel,

"The Patagonia."

You're friends with the Comte St.
Germain?

Au contraire.

You may, shall I call us, rivals.

A pleasant term for enemies, is it not?

And since he's your enemy as well,

you must, in point of
fact, be my friend.

Thank you.

I could use a friend.

Accept this mixture as my
gift to you and your husband.

Have him steep the
infusion in a cup of tea

before bedtime.

I guarantee he will keep
you awake all night

with his snoring.

- (LOUDLY IMITATES SNORING)
- (CHUCKLES)

(SWORDS CLANGING, MEN GRUNTING)

You're a dead man, lad.

That left hand of yers is
still as weak as a kitten.

Aye, there's no strength
in stiff fingers.

Aah!

What of the new sword? Does it satisfy?

This one's lighter than I'm used to.

I still prefer a Scottish blade.

You're cutting too wide,
leaving yourself open.

Fight it.

Come on, fight it!

Enough!

Have you never seen two men

practicing the art of the sword, eh?

Oh, clear off.

_

_

(CROWD GASPS)

You cannot blame them for gawking.

Dueling is outlawed in France.

No doubt they think we mean
to run each other through.

Yet another wrong

to mark against this
misery of a country.

(EXHALES DEEPLY) Would you look at me?

I'm out of breath already
after hardly an hour.

It's the air.

Arses and armpits!

Too many people.

Scotland doesn't exactly
smell like a lady's boudoir.

Aye, but it's an animal smell.

This city reeks of the chamber pot.

Don't you miss it, lad...

the smell of fresh Scottish mud, huh?

It pains me to admit so,
but I even find myself

longing for the company of
Lard Bucket and Big Head.

You mean Rupert and Angus?

(CHUCKLES)

Lard Bucket...

(LAUGHS) Rupert would call it muscle.

But wee Angus does sport
a curiously large head.

I'm sure they miss your
sunny countenance as well.

(SPEAKING GAELIC)

We won't be here forever.

No, but it'll seem so.

I thought we came here
to prevent a rebellion.

Instead, what have we become...
wine merchants?

Wine is for drinking, not for selling.

What would you have me do?

If you want to kill a snake,
you cut off its head.

And the head of this
rebellion is Charles Stuart.

Kill The Prince, you kill the rebellion.

I'm no assassin.

No, but I'm betting there
are plenty round here

willing to earn that title
for a handful of coin.

We don't even know for
certain if he's in Paris.

I'll find him. I swear it.

And then what?

Charles' death will still leave
his father for us to deal with.

You propose we do away
with James as well?

(SIGHS)

Is your longing for home
worth the murder of a prince

and The King?

No, for all we know, the death
of his son would make James

even more determined to sit
on the English throne.

I talk of action,

and you give me logic.

Aye.

Well...

if it's action you crave...

(SPEAKING GAELIC)

How's your hand?

It's mending.

This arrived for you today in the post.

It's from Jared.

Finally.

Hopefully it's good news.

(SPEAKING GAELIC)

Good man.

Has he arranged an introduction

with the Jacobite leaders?

He's done better than that.

"Prince Charles Stuart
requests the company

"of Lord Broch Tuarach, James Fraser,

"to discuss such matters as the
current political situation

amongst the Scottish clans."

And Jared suggested
that you meet Charles

at Maison de Madame Elise.

What is that?

It's a brothel.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

- Mm!
- (LAUGHTER)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER CONTINUES)

Excuse me.

Your Royal Highness, if you
will indulge me for a moment,

I would very much like
to discuss the reason

for our having this
meeting here tonight.

I was about to suggest that very thing.

_

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_

(MEN GASP, MURMURING)

Look at their faces... terrified.

(LAUGHS)

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James, this is why I admire the French.

They're so wonderfully vulgar.

They never allow their exquisite manners

to interfere with their baser instincts.

Yeah, they do find unique
ways to enjoy themselves.

_

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_

_

_

_

Brave. Brave, bravissime. (APPLAUSE)

Very clever, indeed.

Mark me... if I had a wife,

I'd buy all three...

for variety. (LAUGHS)

You ask me, the French are
a sorry bunch of sodomites

that canna please their women.

Forgive me. I do not
recall asking your opinion

nor inviting you here this evening.

Where he goes, I go.

My friend Jared Fraser

claims you're a man of substance,

that you speak your true
mind in all matters.

Mark me...

I hope it is so.

I have no desire to add another
sycophant to my acquaintances.

I have about me too many already.

Tell me...

what are the state of
affairs in Scotland?

Are your clans prepared
to hear my call to arms,

rise up against the heretical traitor

that dares to sit upon
my father's throne?

You ask of the clans?

Well, sire, the truth of it is,

the clans canna agree on
the color of the sky,

let alone put aside their old
grievances and band together

to fight the British.

No, sire...

they're not ready to hear
the call of the pipes

nor likely to be so for
many years to come.

I dare say...

If that is the truth...

it is one I have yet to hear.

Damnable defeatist talk
is what it sounds like

and very peculiar coming
from a supposed Jacobite.

- Ooh, monsieur...
- Non, merci.

I assure you, sire...

I hate the English as much as any man.

I carry the scars of
200 lashes on my back

that remind me of the fact every day.

You asked for the truth,

and the truth is what I gave you.

Would you rather I whispered

honeyed words of
reassurance in your ear,

words that would lead you...

lead all of Scotland... to disaster?

God demands that a Catholic king

sit on the English throne.

My father is that king.

I wish for that as well.

I'm pleased to hear it.

But wishing...

has proven time and again to be no match

for the muskets of the British Army,

as it did during The Rising of Fifteen.

I will not repeat the
mistakes of Lord Mar.

He hesitated when victory
was within his grasp.

Above all else, a leader
must be decisive.

May I ask, Your Royal Highness,

have ye ever been to Scotland?

I regret having not had the pleasure...

Having spent my early years in Italy,

where my father was
forced to seek exile.

Then ken this...

Scotland is a beautiful country...

its glens, its lochs, its mountains.

We're a people of the land,

a simple people with no
great love for outsiders.

We will fight... have fought...
each other more than not.

But you ask us to shed
our blood for what...

to put a more sympathetic
arse on the English throne?

Is that cause enough

for a cotter to exchange
his scythe for a sword,

to leave his home, his crops,

and charge into a cannon's blast?

It would appear you have
now heard the truth

from two loyal Scots.

And what about God's truth?

For His is the only truth
that matters, is it not?

I tell you both...

it is God's will that I, Charles Stuart,

unite the clans.

It is God's will that I
be the beacon of light,

for I am, by divine right,

the outstretched hand of God.

Our cause shall succeed,

but it cannot move
forward without money,

and money it shall have.

But to get it, we must win the support

of the French Minister of Finance,

a certain Joseph Duverney.

As I am in this country unofficially,

I cannot be received at Court.

But you, my Lord Broch Tuarach...

You can go in my place.

Me...

sire?

- I see you have the
heart of a true patriot

willing to risk my divine wrath

in order to safeguard your countrymen.

I can think of no better man to
help me in this time of need.

Go to the Court of Louis.

Be my advocate for rebellion...

for your Prince,

for the rightful King,

and for the God that sits
in judgment of us all.

I will...

Sire.

And now I am in need of a woman...

or maybe two.

Mark me...

is she not a rare beauty?

Che bella donna...

_

(SIGHS)

I'm proud of you, Jamie.

You spoke your heart
and still won a place

at The Prince's side.

The man is a blockhead and
a dangerous one, at that.

He'll get us all killed
if we don't stop him.

I wouldna trust The Prince

with Lallybroch's vegetable patch,

let alone the fate of Scotland.

It was just one meeting.

Charles isn't ready to set sail
for Scotland anytime soon.

You'll have time to open his ears.

It'll all be for naught, I'm afraid.

The man won't listen to me nor anyone.

Charles listens only to God.

Well, he is right about one thing.

Wars cost money.

And without funds, Charles is helpless.

All we have to do is see to it

that his war chest remains empty.

Let's hope the French
Minister of Finance

knows a bad investment when he sees one.

If the Scottish rebellion can
be plotted in a French brothel,

then perhaps it can be
stopped at the French Court.

The next step in the plan

was to get an invitation to Versailles.

Louise de la Tour Marquise de Rohan

had become my particular friend

in the three months we'd been in Paris.

I'd found her to be a
warm and caring friend,

if, like other ladies of her class,

she also tended towards the superficial

and the frivolous on the surface.

(GRUNTS IN PAIN) _

_

_

(CHUCKLES)

_

_

Poor thing. It's a shame
she has to be caged up.

(SIGHS) Yes, Colette is
a cute little rascal,

but she has a tendency to bite.

The bite of the man is desirable,

but the bite of the monkey, not so much.

Mary!

Mary?

You fearful little child.

Stop hiding and come meet a new friend.

Such annoying girl.

I regret my pledge to her uncle
to chaperone her around Paris.

Such a bother.

(SCOFFS) Stop clutching yourself

as if you were on display
in a slave market.

(GRUNTS IN PAIN)

But I'm as good as naked.

(LAUGHS) Ignorant child.

Must I drop my robe and
show you what naked means?

Please don't.

Then calm yourself. Your
innocence is safe with us.

Mary, allow me to introduce
a fellow Englishwoman,

Lady Broch Tuarach, Claire Fraser.

M-Mary Hawkins, Madame.

Mary Hawkins?

I'm sure I've heard that
name before somewhere.

I don't believe we've met.

Mm. Well, it will come to me, somehow.

And what brings you to Paris, Mary?

M-my Uncle Silas Hawkins
is here on business.

Mary's going to wed the
Vicomte Marigny...

a widower of means.

Why a girl soon to be so wealthy

cannot even manage a smile is beyond me.

The Vicomte Marigny.

Is he the older gentleman
with all the...

Warts. Yes, that's him.

Ah, I see.

And your uncle has
arranged the marriage?

A most fortunate union, in spite
of the difference in age.

Aah!

_

_

_

I think I should get dressed.

You will do no such thing.

Her legs are hairier than Colette's,

and no Frenchman will
suffer to bed a monkey.

You say such horrible things.

Smile. You've met a new friend.

Claire, you say you wish to go to Court?

You shall accompany Mary
and me to Versailles.

Oh. Thank you, Louise.

Perhaps I can bring my husband.

If you must...

though you'd have more fun without him.

I'll make you an appointment
with Madame Tabanou.

She'll make you a dress fit for a queen.

(LAUGHING)

But such incredulous faces.

Has no one told you?

In Paris, a hairless
mount is de rigueur.

and the men find it
absolutely irresistible.

It's so warm and so comforting

being put on

and so painful when it is pulled off.

(SIGHS) Such is life.

- Aah!
- (MONKEY SQUEALS)

Claire...

what have you done to yourself?

Yer honeypot...

is bare.

I'm aware of that.

I was there when it happened.

And I also did these.

Ah.

That's bad enough, but...

to rid yourself of such
a lovely forest, I...

(MOANS SOFTLY)

I thought you'd be intrigued...

something different.

Aye.

It's different, right enough.

What must it look like?

Why don't you see for yourself?

Any thoughts?

Aye. It's more complicated
than it looks thatched over.

(CHUCKLES SOFTLY)

Oh, very smooth.

Do you like it?

You're a daring woman, Sassenach.

I suppose that makes
me a very lucky man.

(GRUNTS)

It's okay.

It's okay.

Let's just go to sleep.

Aye.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Civilized...

very civilized.

Though you'll probably be the
only one at Court with a beard.

Ye expect me to shave for
a bunch of French fops?

Ye could've at least washed
your knees, ye swine.

I did.

I see we're all ready to go.

Murtagh, please try not to insult

too many people tonight.

Are you...

mad, woman?

I can see every inch of you,
right down to your third rib.

No, you can't.

Christ. I can see right
down to your navel.

Surely you don't mean to go
out in public like this.

I most certainly do.

I'll have you know, I
helped design this dress.

Ah, Christ.

Sassenach, first your
honeypot, now this.

I'll... I'll wait in the carriage.

No, you won't.

I suppose it'll have to do.

- You could cover up a bit.
- Oh, I already thought of that.

You're gonna to need a larger fan.

(REGAL MUSIC)

♪ ♪

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

I'm intimate with all
the noble families,

their genealogies, and
their allegiances.

So, if there is anyone
you wish to meet...

Oh, I've heard Monsieur Duverney

is an interesting gentleman.

Oh, a man of rather gross sensibilities.

But fear not, if he is
here, I shall find him.

_

Annalise.

Claire...

_

_

Annalise de Marrilac.

Annalise...

_

Claire Fraser.

Charmed, I'm sure.

Let me congratulate you on
having won such a strong,

passionate man for a husband.

Yes. I'm quite fortunate, aren't I?

Tell me, did he fight many
duels to win your affection?

Actually, he won my heart

without having to draw his sword.

Oh, more's the pity.

When I knew him, he had quite
the appetite for the blades.

Mm.

Did he?

It was just one duel...

one very small, insignificant duel.

As I recall, I merely
scratched my opponent.

Mm.

The ironic thing is...

and it's really quite funny...

Annalise ended up marrying
the lucky fellow.

Oh, how romantic.

He's dead. Smallpox.

Jamie...

_

_

_

_

You don't mind if I borrow your
husband for a few minutes?

Be at ease.

I can only bring him

to the door of The King's bedroom.

The dressing of The King
is a male-only affair.

_

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

- Murtagh.
- Hmm?

You'll accompany them?

Where are we going?

To witness the dressing of
The King, you foolish man.

Ah, I wouldn't wanna miss that.

_

_

_

_

(STRAINING)

Only in France does a King
need an audience to shite.

(CLEARS THROAT)

_

If you're lucky, you'll
be given the honor

of wiping the royal arse.

Tsk!

(KING SIGHS)

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(CROWD GROANS)

_

(CLEARS THROAT) _

- _ - _

Seigneur Broch Tuarach.

_

(STRAINING)

(GROANS)

_

_

James Fraser...

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Porridge, you say?

Aye. It is the breakfast of choice

in the Highlands of Scotland.

Is that so?

Unfortunately, The King
has never acquired

a taste for peasant food.

(LAUGHTER)

(GROANS LOUDLY)

(SIGHS)

Perhaps this would be the perfect time.

(GRUNTS)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER, LAUGHTER)

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(LAUGHTER)

_

Tell us, Madame Fraser,

what do English ladies
call a male member?

Ah, well, I've...

heard it referred to as "peter."

Though there are those
who prefer "prick."

"Prick."

_

- _ - _

_

_

No offense intended, my dear.

(CHUCKLES DISMISSIVELY) None taken.

That wicked little minx...

she's found herself a lover

even before the exchange
of wedding vows.

It's hardly that, I'm sure.

If you'll excuse me, ladies, I, uh...

need to get some air.

Excusez-moi.

_

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No, no, no, no, no.

_

_

Lady Broch Tuarach...

_

_

Excuse me?

I am told you are
desirous of the company

of Monsieur Joseph Duverney.

Since I alone, in all of
France, answer to that name,

it is I you have been praying for.

It's indeed an honor. My husband...

No, no, no, there is no need
to speak of husbands or wives.

No, no, no, no.

Instead, let me worship at your...

feet.

(SCOFFS) Monsieur, I
think you are, uh...

Oh, my God!

Grossly mistaken!

- Monsieur!
- (GRUNTING)

There is no need to play the coquette.

(CHUCKLES)

Let us take the few
brief moments we have

and find ecstasy in
each other's embrace.

Come to me, my little mouse.

Let me hear you squeak!

(YELPS)

No, Jamie, don't!

Aah!

(WATER SPLASH)

That was the Minister of Finance.

Monsieur Duverney?

The very same.

I tried to tell you, but
it all happened so fast.

Paris.

I told you that dress
would bring us grief.

(GRUNTS)

Please, accept my most fervent apology

for my beastly behavior.

Minister Duverney, I'm happy to
accept your gracious apology.

As am I.

Thank you both, most sincerely.

What can I say? I've grown too fond

of The King's ever-flowing champagne.

If my wife had caught me
attempting to make love

to yet another woman...

Oh, yeah.

My beloved possesses a fiery temper.

Well, she need never know.

- God's blessing on you both.
- Mm.

(CHUCKLES)

Perhaps there is some way
I can be of service?

Your friendship is service enough.

Then you shall have it.

Tell me, do you, by any chance,
enjoy the game of chess?

Oh, he's a master.

Master? No.

But I have been known to
brood over a board or two.

Wonderful. We must have a game.

Aye.

The King.

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(LAUGHTER)

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_

Judas!

You'll pay for yer treachery.

Murtagh.

Never draw your weapon in
the presence of the King.

It is death.

_

If that's an apology,
and I do hope it is,

I accept with all good grace.

Jamie, dear boy,

upon my word, I'm delighted to
see you looking so healthy.

Ah, Mrs. Fraser, what a joyful reunion.

I wish I could say the same.

You cut me to the quick.

But I suppose I deserve it.

Let me assure you, I had every
intention of delivering

that Petition of Complaint
to The Court of Sessions,

as I had pledged to do.

It was that damned Randall.

The brute insisted I
give it to him instead.

I had no choice whatsoever.

Will you ever forgive me?

What's done is done.

How true.

What's passed is passed.

What are you both doing here in France?

Jamie has been employed
by his cousin Jared.

The wine merchant?

What a serendipitous surprise.

Tomorrow I go back to England.

But I shall return
shortly, and when I do,

I should be very interested to sample

some of that rare Belle Rouge port

I understand he's stocking.

I must have a case.

Hmm. How much?

I'd be willing to pay 20%
over the asking price.

Sold.

On credit, no doubt.

Jamie, why don't you take
Murtagh to have a drink

with our new friend, the
Minister of Finance?

I see you're already
cultivating important people

in high places.

How very in keeping with your character.

Poor Jamie, he must be
missing Scotland terribly.

I suppose it's no longer a
safe haven for either of you.

Hmm.

Yes...

and so here we all are...

on the same side, no less...

all supporters of the Jacobite cause.

Of course, you being
an English aristocrat,

that position makes you
a traitor to the Crown.

I see time has done nothing

to dull the sharpness
of your tongue, Madame.

Your Grace, uh, the fireworks
are due to begin in a moment.

- Ah.
- (COUGHING)

If you must cough on
someone, find a servant.

Was that a bit harsh?

Just a little.

Are you all right, sir?

Your pardon, Madame.

It's chronic, I'm afraid.

Some Althea officinalis should
help soothe your throat.

Didn't I see you talking
to Mary Hawkins earlier?

You know her?

Enchanting girl.

Yes, she is.

Where are my manners?

Mrs. Claire Fraser,

may I introduce my new secretary,

Alexander Randall.

Yes, the name is not a coincidence.

Alex is the younger brother

of Captain Jonathan Randall, Esquire.

Mrs. Fraser and your brother
are very well acquainted.

Well, I will have to tell
Jonathan that I have met you.

Tell him?

(SCOFFS) I-I don't understand.

Your brother, he isn't...

dead?

I certainly hope not.

I received a letter from
Scotland this morning

that he posted only two weeks ago.

Can I be of assistance?

I'm fine. Thank you.

I suppose I...

heard a false rumor of his demise.

Jonathan did suffer wounds
in the line of duty.

They were not insignificant,

but, luckily, my brother is blessed

with a much stronger
constitution than my own.

(COUGHS)

(FIREWORKS EXPLODE, CROWD OOHING)

Oh! (LAUGHS)

How lovely.

Must they be so thunderous?

Go and fetch my carriage.

(CHUCKLES)

I barely heard the fireworks.

What would happen when Jamie found out

that Black Jack Randall was alive?

Would his need for vengeance
eclipse our resolve

to prevent the uprising?

Should I even tell him?

Even if I tried to keep that
appalling news from him,

in time, he'd be sure
to learn the truth.

What then?

- sync and corrections by Caio -
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