All language subtitles for The.Pursuit.Of.Love.S01E03.720p.Bluray.x264-carved

Cooee!

Linda!

Ooh!

Madame!

Monsieur.

If you insist on going back
to the Gare du Nord,

let me drive you there at least.

I think you'll find it quicker
than walking.

Linda!

Linda?

Shush!

It's a shame.

- What's a shame?
- Hmm?

That you have to go before lunch.

My favourite brasserie
is on the next street.

One may as well go for lunch
if it's on the way, I suppose.

Ah. Ah!

Leave it!
It was a terrible hat.

Shush!

Please stop screaming.
You're embarrassing me!

Come here.

What's all that about?

Shh!

Now, madame,
before I never see you again,

- tell me the story.
- What story?

Who left you to cry on
that little suitcase of yours?

I left him...

...my second husband.
And I...

I've left him for ever

because he's fallen in love
with another woman.

My dear, what a curious reason

for leaving your second husband.

Well, it was made so much worse
by her being a welfare worker.

Why is that worse?

Because she's such a good person.

Merci.

Well, surely, with your
experience of husbands,

you must have noticed falling
in love with other people

is one of the things they do, hmm?

Wives fall in love
with other people too.

Oui.

How many husbands have you had?

Only two!

Combien?

In England,
I am considered a beauty!

Oui.

Linda was experiencing

an overwhelming physical sensation

like nothing she'd known before.

I have certainly never seen
anyone so lovely

climbing down a drainpipe.

She asked herself how,

after only five minutes
of acquaintance,

she could yearn so desperately
to be in bed with this man.

It would be impossible
to be very unhappy here.

Come and see my apartment.

Oh, monsieur!

Heh?

Pfft! Yes, well...I admit that
I have made great mistakes,

but I see no reason for sliding
down the hill altogether.

Can you please just take me to the station?

Oui, bien sur,

but I fear you have missed
the last train for London.

Well, then, can...

Can you please take me back
to the hotel

and I will catch the first
London train tomorrow?

- To the hotel?
- Oui.

- Tres bien.
- Merci.

By all means.

She could see this man
was certain of the outcome,

and so was she.

Perfectly certain.

Do you want to dance?

No, I want to keep chatting
and chatting and chatting.

- Chatting?
- Oui.

I adore chatting.
It's one of my favourite things to do.

Tell me a story.

I once read a story

about two English ladies

seeing the ghost of Marie Antoinette

sitting on a park bench.

- No?
- Yes, they saw her!

A ghost story made up by some...

...old English virgins...

No, that's not interesting.

All right, thank you very much!

- You tell me one, then.
- Tres bien.

- And this is a true story.
- Right.

My grandmother,
she was very beautiful

and she had many lovers her whole life.

Just before she died,
she was in Venice

with my mother,

floating up some canal in a gondola,

when they saw an exquisite
little palazzo of pink marble.

Mmm.

An old servant showed them
into a salon with three windows

looking over the canal,

but my grandmother was strangely moved.

At last, she said,

- "If in the third drawer..."
- Hmm.

"...of that bureau,
there is a filigree box..."

Right.

"...containing a small gold key,

"this house belongs to me."

See? Absolument.
And there it was.

One of my grandmother's lovers
had given it to her

years before, and she had
forgotten all about it.

Oh, what fascinating lives
you foreigners do lead!

How badly your hair is done.

Oh!

- You don't like my clothes.
- No.

- Or my hair.
- No.

And you think I'm bad at stories.

Oui.

Oui, madame.

So it's a very good thing

that I'm going back to London tomorrow.

Oh, yes, I had forgotten.
What a pity.

She told herself again and again

that tomorrow, after this,

she would go back to London.

But she had no intention
of going back, and she knew it.

Ah, thought I'd married a bolter after all.

Alfred, no,
it's a terrible emergency!

Linda didn't come home

and I haven't seen her in so long

and I was so mean to her
when we argued and...

It wasn't actually anything
about her, it was all about me,

and now something awful's
happened to her

and I might never see her again!

- Oh, God!
- Doesn't she have

a habit of falling on her feet?

No, we're best friends.
Alfred,

she would have called me
if she were all right.

Oh, poor Linda.
She really is such an innocent.

Do you always laugh

when you make love?

Don't most women?

Ah, non, they do not.

More often they cry.

Hmm...

How extraordinary.

Don't they enjoy it?

While we're on the subject
of your private life...

-Mmm?
- ...could one know your name?

Haven't you discovered that?

Extraordinaire!

Well, my name is Fabrice Sauveterre.

I'm happy to tell you
that I'm a very rich duke.

A most agreeable thing to be,
even in these days.

And are you married?

Non.

Why not?

My fiancée died.

Oh, how sad.

What was she like?

Very kind.

Kinder than me?

Much kinder.

- Mmm.
- Very correct.

More correct than me?

You, madame,
are not correct at all.

Hmm.

She was a very virtuous woman.

Do you mean to say that
you never went to bed with her?

Never.

Never would have crossed
my mind in a thousand years.

Goodness!

- In England, we always do.
- Ah!

My dear, the animal side
of the English is well known.

They are a drunken and incontinent race.

Well, they say it's foreigners

- who are all those things.
- Are they?

French women are the
most virtuous in the world.

- I don't know.
- Aussi.

I must tell you that my mother
and one of my aunts

and one of my sisters

and my cousin are virtuous women,

so virtue is not unknown in my family.

And anyway, Fabrice,

what about your grandmother
and all those lovers?

Oh, yes, I admit she was a great sinner!

But she was also a very great lady.

You can't be virtuous

and a sinner, I'm afraid.

Alfred, everything's always one
thing or the other with you!

You do?
Where?

When?
What time?

No, no, no, no,
Alfred can stay with the baby.

No, he won't mind in the least.

Oh, dear God, David!
Do you think she's all right?

Tres chic.

Merveilleuse!

We take it all. Allez!

You can't do that!

- Oui.
- What would my mother say?

Oh, no, wait, it's perfect.
Even the swimming suit,

which you won't be able to wear, of course,

because the beaches will be
battlegrounds, but we take it.

I prefer to sunbathe naked anyway.

Linda wondered if she was
teetering on the edge

of being a kept woman...

...and decided she may as well

be hanged for a sheep as a lamb!

She was possessed by
a calm and happy fatalism.

The whole world was waiting
for the war to begin,

but this curious feeling did
not disturb her in the least.

She moved into an apartment
provided for her by Fabrice,

and occupied the weeks
since she met him shopping,

lying in the sun

and waiting for him
to come and visit her.

- Madame, un masque?
- Bonjour. Ca va!

We'll soon be at war, madame.

Bonjour.

...Which he did,
every evening at seven.

- Well, you do look pretty!
- Ohh!

Goodness!

Merlin...
Davey...

Fanny!

God, Linda, darling,
thank God you're still alive!

Well, of course I'm still alive!

I've never seen anyone
more alive in my life.

Oh!

- Hello, darling.
- Hello.

Are you in disguise?

Oh, the spectacles?

I've got to wear them when I go abroad.

I've got such kind eyes, you see,

beggars and things cluster round,
annoy me.

Ohh...

You don't seem very pleased to see us.

How did you find out?

Do Ma and Fa know?

No, no. They still think
you're with Christian.

Oh, good.

You gave us a fright.

Another time,
you might send a postcard.

So wonderfully old-fashioned -

the parcels, the shopping,
the flowers.

What an interest you are in one's life!

- Davey, don't tease!
- The flat is a terrible joke.

I bet she's got a glass bath.

Yes.

I wouldn't be surprised

if she's got little goldfish
swimming along the sides of it.

You've looked!

The way Frenchmen
keep their mistresses

always follows such a
stereotypical plan.

There are a couple of things
that raise the level, though.

That Gauguin,
a couple of Cézannes.

Bit chintzy but,
you know...

I suppose your protector
is very rich, is he?

Yes, he is.

Then might one ask for a tiny cup of tea?

Well, come on, then,
enlighten us.

Who is this unimaginative Frenchman?

His name is the Due de Sauveterre.

Fabrice de Sauveterre?

Yes.

You know him?

One forgets, under that look
of great sophistication,

what a little provincial you really are.

Of course we know him
and all about him.

And what's more, so does
everyone else, except you.

Fabrice de Sauveterre is undoubtedly

one of the most wicked men in Europe!

Do you remember in Venice

one used to see him out at work
on that gondola,

one after another, bowling
the ladies over like rabbits?!

Fabrice de Sauveterre!

Wow!

Please remember that you are
drinking his tea at the moment.

I know my pancreas will pay for this,

but one's not in Paris every day.

I think Fabrice has been shot at

more than any bachelor alive!

Oh, do shut up!

Come on, Mer.

It's time the little lady got
into her negligee.

Goodbye, Linda.

We're off to meet our...
intellectual friends.

Do give our love to Fabrice.

I'll see you later,
Fanny, dear.

Fabrice!

Oh, darling!

Oh.

Oh...

Oh, no, gosh!

Oh, no, I forgot to call
and tell you I was all right!

I'm so sorry.

Darling, I haven't slept for...
like days.

That's not important now.

Let's just get you safe

and home,
and please do not be scared.

Fanny, no, come and sit down.
Let me explain.

Um...

I... I don't want to be rescued.

I...

Oh...

Oh, Fanny, I have been forced
to the conclusion

that all Englishmen...

...are hopeless lovers.

Not at all.
Alfred is wonderful.

Yes, of course.

Twice in my life

I have mistaken something else for love.

It's like seeing somebody in the street

you think is a friend,

and you smile and wave
and run after them,

but it's not the friend.

It's not even very like them.

And then, a few minutes later,

the real friend appears and...

What happened to
saving the world, Linda?

Because I must say, you got
very easily distracted.

I thought that you were
renouncing men for ever.

I know, but I've never felt
anything like this before.

Yes, you have.

Linda, you might have called.

It's been heaven to see you,
darling, but...

...Fabrice is going to be here any minute.

Could we chat all about it
at lunch tomorrow?

Oh...

Yes, of course.

Darling, I'm sorry.

No, no.

I love you, Fanny.

Merlin...
He was just here with Fanny

and Uncle Davey.
They say they know you.

Merlin? Bien sur.

Oh!

Never let me go back to them!

But, my darling,
you love them.

Fan. .. Fanny, Jassy, Matt.

You're Fa's little favourite.

Fa is exactly the reason
why we all ran away.

He is so loathed abroad.

Matt and Jassy and I were
all hellbent on going there,

and then, of course,
it was enchanting

and full of people who don't
look and think like us.

Full of you.

Ohh...

Please never let me leave you
or Paris as long as I live.

The war is coming.
You will have to soon.

Couldn't I stay?

You may stay here for a time,

but when I ask you to leave,
you must.

Even if you see no reason for doing so.

- All right.
- Bien.

Bien.

Bon.
Where will you go?

Home to the English lord
who loathes abroad?

No. No.

No, I shall go to
my little house in Chelsea...

...and wait for you.

Ah, oui?

It might be months or years.

I shall wait.

I Shall wait.

Sorry.

Davey and Merlin stayed up too late.

I'm beginning to become aware of

the cruel pangs of dyspepsia.

I'm suffering from an ordinary,
straightforward hangover,

and so is Davey.

His eyes are not at all kind today.

Not for a few days.
I returned from Biarritz.

You have seen Fabrice at all?

Well, I see him quite often

- at Madame de Sauveterre's.
- And when does the beautiful

- Jacqueline return?
- Oh, she's still in England.

She misses him dearly,
but they talk every day

- on the phone.
- Who would have thought

Fabrice of all people

- would be so faithful?
- I know!

My darling,
thank goodness I came.

Now, tell me,
where does he live?

Erm, with...with his mother somewhere.
I don't know.

- Excuse me, sir.
- Madame?

I'm looking for

the Due de Sauveterre's
mother's apartment.

Can you help?

- It is most urgent.
- Absolument.

We'd better go in and find
Davey and Merlin. Let's go.

- What? No!
- Can't we just forget

that we ever heard this?

Don't be absurd.
You have to break it off with this man.

But I've never been happier in my life.

We're all going to die soon anyway.

Poor Merlin has the wrong kind.

Wrong kind of what?

Pill to take when the Germans come.

He's got the sort you give to dogs.

You really should go to my doctor.

You take the white one first,
then you take the black one.

I must say,
Linda's finally fulfilled

the promise of her youth.

Her reward for getting older
is a magical, haunting sadness

of which she is unaware,

but which speaks straight to the heart

and is the completion of her beauty.

She's living as a high-class prostitute,

and damn the consequences.

Well, she's just his bit on the side.
She's sunk so low.

She thinks she's happy now,

but she's going to end up miserable.

One has to live in the world as it is,

because society really
makes things beastly

for those who disobey the rules.

Fanny, you really are most
dreadfully conventional.

We can't all experience

the same sort of domestic bliss
that you and...

You and...?

- Alfred.
- Alfred.

...Alfred have achieved.

Some of us must protect Bohemia,
irreverence.

Good on her.

The baby missed you terribly.

- What about you?
- What do you mean?

You go to work.

Sometimes he doesn't see you
for days at a time.

Don't you worry he misses you
when you go to work?

I work, yes,
to provide for my family.

Oh, to provide for people.

To go off every day,
read books, write about them,

and then talk to other
clever people about them.

- You're not making any sense.
- I have to endure

this endless drudgery
of housekeeping

and getting overlooked at your
intellectual dinner parties.

The boring and repetitive
conversation of small children,

their absolute incapacity
to amuse themselves,

the sudden terrifying illnesses.

Your not infrequent bouts of moodiness,

your invariable complaints
at meals about the pudding...

- Where has all this come from?
- Are you happy?!

- What do you mean?
- Well, isn't that the point?

To be happy?

To be in love and to be one's best self,

and then to be really marvellously happy?

When I married you,
this seemed to be the life you wanted.

Well, this life was the only option.

- What?
- Happily married

or unhappily married.

That's it, that's the choice
if you're a woman.

I suppose you could be a bolter.

At least bolters get to see the world.

- Are you losing your mind?
- Yes!

Yes, Alfred! Yes!

Yes.

Joyeux anniversaire, madame.

Ohh!

- No!

Not a French bulldog!

Hello.

Plon-Plon.

Plon-Plon?

Oui, Plon-Pl...

Non, pour moi.

Pour moi.

My hat.

And my French bulldog.

Bien. The thing I feared
would happen has happened.

We must move very quickly.

Linda did not fully understand

that she was leaving her happy
life behind her for ever.

None of us fully understood.

At least you won't have to suffer

my complaints about the pudding.

Maybe the puddings
will be better in France.

Linda had gone back
to Cheyne Walk

to wait,
as she promised she would,

for a sign of Fabrice.

Month after endless month
she waited.

But no sign came.

I was very little in touch
with Linda during that time.

I had wanted to call her often,

but I hadn't quite known what to say.

Oh, darling, I'm in agony
waiting for a sign of him.

She finally asked me
to come and see her.

She was desperate about Fabrice,

who hadn't called
or written to her since Paris.

Fanny, darling.

Allo, allo.

Oh!

I have been waiting for you so long.

How nice, then.
Can I come and see you now?

I have a taxi outside.
I shall be with you in two minutes.

Oui.

Did you come to join General de Gaulle?

Oui.

I shall see him, of course.

But I came on a private mission.

I came to tell you I love you.

You...

You never said that to me in Paris.

I had said it so often in my life,
the same...

I never said it to you because...

...from the first moment,

I knew this was as real
as the others were false.

It was like recognising somebody.

Just...

I can't explain it, I'm sorry.

I suppose religious people
sometimes feel like this.

Darling Linda,

everything's going to be all right.

- I promise.
- Ooh!

I figured it all out on the train.

Obviously, men are a bit useless.

They'll never understand us,

and they'll never think
that they have to.

Luckily, they're probably
about to get shot

or bombed or something.

And then you can come
and live with me,

and we'll chat
and we'll have some baths,

and we'll be our best selves,
like we used to.

I am beginning to think
this war's such a wonderful

opportunity for women like us.

- Bonjour, madame.
- Ooh.

Finally, the brilliant Fanny
I've heard so much about.

It's Fabrice.

- Hello.
- My dear,

tell me everything about your life.

Will you please be so good

as to start with the Hans cupboard...

Hons cupboard.

Hons cupboard.

...s'il vous plait?

He's wonderful!

- Isn't he?
- Wonderful.

And he loves to chat!

And he actually listens.

And he doesn't bore on about
making money or politics.

In books, girls like you
always end up dead, Linda.

I was so worried.

Hello.

But you're not Madame Bovary
or Anna Karenina.

No.

Life isn't books.

In fact, you are the most
incredibly alive person

I've ever met.

Oh, well, you know, Fanny,
I mean...

...someone should write a book about me,

and give it the most
tremendously happy ending.

That's a good idea.

You shouldn't have.

I love Paris.

- Are you all right?
- Should we get out?

I think it's a siren.

- Oh, no. No!

Bloody Germans.

The cloud of war that
seemed so little at first

grew and grew until it became
a thick gray blanket

smothering the horizon.

That funny face you make
when you tie your tie.

Do you think we shall ever
live together again?

Of course we shall.

For years and years,
until I'm 90.

I have a very faithful nature.

But you weren't very faithful
to Jacqueline.

Ah, you know about her?

Mm-hm.

She was lovely.

I was immensely faithful to
her, and it lasted five years.

It always does with me, but...

...as I love you ten times more
than the others,

that will bring me to 90,

and by then, mon Dieu, it will
have become such a habit.

And when shall I see you again?

I'll be back and forth.

I thought I heard a car.

Oui.

I must go.

Madame...

Au revoir.

The bad news got worse.

The cloud was now
a great horror of steel

rolling over France
towards England.

We all took refuge at
Alconleigh without Linda,

who hadn't been back there
for two years now,

and Whose return
was much longed for.

The more, the merrier.

It is so lovely...

Prepared for the invasion?
Ready to slay some Huns?

...Louisa's children.
It's like the old days.

The bombs were dropping
thick and fast on London now,

and Sadie begged me
to try to fetch Linda,

who was worrying us all by
refusing to leave Cheyne Walk,

even for a breath of air,
in case Fabrice called again.

FANNY: Gosh. Hello, Moira.

Goodness, you've grown up.

She's in the bathroom being sick.

Oh, dear.

- What's the puppy's name?
- Plon-Plon, I think.

Is that French?
Daddy says the French are terrible.

I expect he does.

Moira's going to America this afternoon.

She's come to say goodbye.

- I am her mother after all.
- Daddy says

we ought to fight with the Germans,
not against them.

Hmm. But Daddy doesn't seem
to be fighting very much

with anybody or against anybody,
or at all,

as far as I can see.

Can you just stop playing
with the puppy for a minute

and just listen carefully
to what I'm saying?

I want you to know

that I don't approve of you
running away

like this from England,

just as soon as it's in trouble.

I think it most dreadfully wrong.

I have to do as I'm told, don't I?

But you'd much rather stay,
wouldn't you?

Oh, I don't think so.

There are air raids.

I'm in such a temper.

What do your children think
of air raids, Fanny?

I have to say,
they simply long for them.

Oh, that's a relief.

I thought perhaps it was
the whole generation.

Of course, it's not
Moira's fault entirely.

Pixie and Tony are frightened to death.

They're using her to escape.

- You're only allowed

on those boats to America

if you've got a child in tow,
you know?

Fabrice bought this for me.

I was going to give it to Moira.

Oh, but I can't bear to waste
anything so pretty

on the little coward.

I think I'll give her

that dreadful sports wristwatch I got

when I married Tony instead.

Why are you always so beastly to Moira?

Ohh...

This baby won't be in the least like Moira.

You'll see.

I thought you weren't supposed
to have another one.

Doctors - what do they know?
Of course I can.

I'm simply longing for it.

Oh, God!

This is ridiculous. Sadie and
Matthew want you home, Linda.

Come back to Alconleigh.
You're ill.

No.

I'm having another one too,
and so is Louisa.

Oh, I do call that nice.

They can be Hons together.

Ah, but...

- ...he knows to find me here.
- You'll be killed, Linda!

And then he won't know
Where to find you!

Or do you want
to actually die for love?

Maybe you think that's romantic
or something.

There are seven million
people in London, Fanny.

Do you really imagine
they're all killed every night?

Fetch me a glass of water,
please.

Can you just open the door, Linda?

Not if you're going to
try and make me leave.

Why have I spent my whole life
worrying about you?

You are so incredibly selfish!

I do know I've been beastly to Moira.

I think it was always
in the back of my mind

that I'd have to leave Tony
sooner or later.

I didn't want to get too fond of Moira.

Or make her too fond of me.

She might become an anchor.

And I didn't dare let myself
get anchored to the Kroesigs.

Fanny...

...sometimes I don't think
we're born women at all.

It's like...

...your wings get clipped.

And then everyone's so surprised

when you don't know how to fly.

Fanny...

So, I went back to Alconleigh
alone

to wait out the months
in the freezing countryside.

It was a time
made infinitely more difficult

by the surprise arrival

of my mother.

It was with incredible

adventures that we escaped the Riviera.

Thank God for Juan here,

my ruffian Spaniard,
without whom I'd never have got out

of that ghastly prison camp in Spain.

He's morose but ravishing,
don't you think?

He's sitting right next to you.

Don't worry about that, darling.

He doesn't understand
a word of English.

Oh, that's good, because
I must tell you, Bolter,

I can't have a lot of dagos
staying in the house.

You can stay as long
as you like, of course,

but I really do draw the line at...
Juan.

Can't turn him out to starve, darling.

One must have human feeling.

Not towards dagos.

You sure he can't understand us?
He looks very unhappy.

Oh, quite sure.
And I speak no Spanish.

We are incapable of verbal exchange.

- Why are you with him, then?
- Because we're engaged.

I thought you were
still married to the major.

Do you know, I honestly
can't remember.

You all right, darling?

I just don't really approve
of people getting engaged

- when they're married.
- No, I know.

It's always good to line
yourself up with the next one

before you've got rid of the
one before, don't you think?

That's more Linda's philosophy.

Is he all right?

It's the food, Sadie, it's the food.
The food is poisonous.

That's very rude,
given you've only just arrived.

Somebody had to say it.
I know it's the war, Sadie,

but I was sick for hours last night.

The day before,
Emily had frightful diarrhea.

Fanny has that great big spot on her nose.

Bolter's entirely right -
we're all being poisoned.

Bolter, please be more ration conscious!

Darling, I'm going up to London next week

to get my wiggy washed

and I'll bring back a big huge slab of it,

- I swear.

Thank you, sweetheart.

Don't pity me, Fanny.

I've had five months of perfect,
unalloyed happiness.

Very few people can say that

in the course of long lives,
I imagine.

Port arms!

Right turn!

Charge!

At ease. At ease.

I reckon we'll be able to hold
the Germans off for two hours,

possibly three,
before we're all killed.

Not bad for such a little squad.

You look like a miller.

Why are you all covered in...
dust?

- Did you get bombed?
- Yes, I did, Fa.

And it's done me no end of good.

Davey went into the business room with Juan

and the Spanish dictionary,

and our whole lives
have changed for ever.

It turns out he was the cook
for some cardinal

before the civil war.
And he's been out in the woods

with a catapult,
pickling and preserving.

And already the store cupboard
is Aladdin's cave.

If I were the Bolter,
I should definitely marry him.

Well, knowing the Bolter,
I've no doubt she will.

You can talk.

At least Linda's doing
her bit for the war in Paris.

All you ever do is comfort
crying children, Fanny.

Did you get those lovely furs

when you were doing your bit
in Paris, Linda?

Isn't it wonderful what you can

get there on no money if you're clever?

What sort of war work was it again, Linda?

She was providing comforts
for the French army.

- Sometimes all night long.
- Oh, that's exhausting.

- Do stop it!

Oh, poor thing.

You can see she misses
Christian terribly.

Where is he now?
Cairo?

It does seem unfair.

Linda has this glorious time in Paris

and comes back with all these furs.

What do you and I get
for sticking our whole lives

with the same dreary old husbands?

Three-quarter-length shorn lamb.

Don't be mean about husbands.

I'm feeling awfully guilty about mine.

Who's going to look after that baby, Fanny?

It's obvious you and I will have to do it.

She'll forget about it
the moment it's born.

BOLTER: Psst! Darling.

Darling, Fanny.

Psst!

What are you doing?

Hiding. Of course, Wild horses
wouldn't make me tell Sadie

about Linda and Sauveterre,

but I do think when we're all together,

Linda might be a tiny bit jolly
and not keep running off.

We could be great friends,
she and I.

Well, there is a selfishness to her.

I sometimes think I was made
for another planet altogether

and mistook the way.

Linda and I are greedy,
of course, darling,

but it is rotten

to find yourself involved
with a fellow for life

just because he was the one
you met when you were 19.

Yes, but if you have a child
with that fellow,

don't you have a certain
responsibility to that child?

You can't bolt and keep hold
of the child.

Well, shouldn't you stay?

Oh, darling Fanny.

Please don't never be greedy.

Don't think you have
to be good all the time.

Sometimes being good kills you,

just as painfully as being bad can.

Oh, my goodness, they found me!

- You found me!

You got me!
Ow!

- We saw you from over there.
- No, you didn't.

- Yeah.
- I was hiding perfectly.

Oh, my goodness...

Oh, darling.

This letter came from Fabrice.

I've been looking and looking,

and I can't decipher a single word.

Isn't it torture?

Never mind.

Ohh...

One day the telephone bell will ring...

...and he'll be there.

I'm certain of it.

Why does your mother
keep winking at me?

And saying things like,

"Let's face it, dear, we're
just a couple of fallen women"?

I'm sorry, Fanny,
but I can't bear her.

Well, yes, but of everybody,

doesn't she seem happiest, though?

Maybe it's not all that terrible

to be a bolter in the end.

No, but, Fanny,
she's ghastly and ridiculous.

And I'm not a bolter!

No, of course not.

In fact, I've always thought
of you as an innocent.

Really?

Mm.

Thank you.

And I've always thought of you
as the most daring.

Yes.

Yes, yes.

Because I... I always ran away,
and you didn't.

It's the bravest thing
in the world to stay put.

Oh, and...

Oh, I am lost without you.

I really am.

Oh.

Fanny, it's...it's not here that's home.

It's always been you.

Oh, and I need to go and be sick.

I'm sorry, darling.

I love sitting here chatting with you.

Promise to still be here when I get back!

Ooh!

Alfred!

What are you doing here?

I had a day's leave
and I've come to see my wife.

Well, I was told
I would find her in a cupboard.

Yes. Here I am.

- I'll get out. It's...
- No.

I'll join you.

What's this?

Oh. It's a diary I used to keep
when I was young.

May I?

You spent the whole time ogling Linda.

Do you wish you were Linda?

Because I for one
am very pleased you're not.

You see,
that's just not helpful.

I have this great need

to be thought of as sympathetic
and pleasing.

I'm also this selfish person

with selfish thoughts and...
desires.

Are you saying you want
to have an affair?

I know I can be preoccupied.

Truth is, I...

...sometimes feel
I have to work very hard

- to prove my value...
- No,

I don't want to have an affair.

I want to be a good wife
to you and a good mother

and a good friend.

It's just hard when you feel
all twisted up and jealous

and scared and resentful all the time.

Because I know that I'm a shy person,

but I've got this lion inside of me.

Do you understand?

I'm trying very hard to.

God, I don't know.

I'm so very pleased that you're not dead.

Sorry.

Oh...

Ooh.

Alfred, you're so...

Oh!

Alfred, you couldn't do that before.

- Your glasses are steamed up.
- Doesn't matter.

All this tweed!

Spring came with extraordinary beauty,

and we waited impatiently
for our babies to be born.

The days and hours dragged by again,

like they used to
when we were young girls

waiting for our lives to begin.

What's the time, darling?

Guess.

Half past 12.

Better than that.
It's quarter to one.

Do you think if Fa had allowed
us to go to school

and be clever and accomplished
like Fanny,

we'd have been quite so desperate

- to escape his clutches?
- No.

As it is, we're all good
for exactly nothing.

And if I hadn't run far away...

...I'd have never met Fabrice,

had my happy ending.

You should be the one to write
the love story, Fanny.

The one with the happy ending.

And it'll sell millions of copies,

and I'll get filthy rich.

And Alfred will have
to suffer the indignity

of me paying for him in restaurants.

If anything should happen to me,

you will look after Plon-Plon,
won't you?

Such a comfort to me all this time.

But she spoke idly,

as one who knows
she will live for ever.

Louisa's baby, her sixth child,

was born in May,
and we envied her

from the bottom of our hearts
for having got it over with.

I have an announcement to make

regarding how we are to respond

to the imminent German invasion.

In the...inevitable event of my death,

there is one very, very
important job to be done.

Davey, I would like you

to blow up Juan's store cupboard,
Aladdin.

Now, I would ask Juan to do it himself,

but the fact is, though
I rather like old Juan now,

once a foreigner,
always a foreigner.

Are you seriously asking me
to blow up Aladdin?

Matthew, you must be mad.

We can't reward the Germans
by feeding them from Aladdin!

Well, in my opinion,

and speaking on behalf
of my absent siblings,

happiness only begins
the day one leaves

this icy, dark well of a country

and steps foot on foreign soil,

and foreigners are to be adored!

However, in this instance,
Fa is right.

We must stop at nothing
to defeat the Germans.

Fa...

...show me how to blow up Aladdin.

That's my girl, Linda.
That's my girl!

And when you've blown up Aladdin,

I want you to take down
the entrenching tool.

Like this. I'll show you.

You'll be well looked after, Linda.

Pregnant women always are.

I'll never be able to make them
understand about my insides.

I know Germans.

Will you stop talking about
your insides for once, Davey?

I've wanted to use this for years.

Mine are feeling frightfully
peculiar all of a sudden.

Mine too.

Juan's poisoned us!
I always knew he would

all along!
He's turned against us.

Don't touch the food.
He's poisoned the lot of us.

Don't look! My knickers!

Funny, I remember feeling just like that

every time the babies came.

On 28th May,
both our babies were born.

Both boys.

The doctors who said

that Linda ought never
to have another child

were not such idiots after all.

It killed her.

She died, I think,
completely happy

and Without having suffered
very much.

But for us at Alconleigh,

for her father and mother,
brothers and sisters,

for Davey and for Lord Merlin,

a light went out,

a great deal of joy
that could never be replaced.

At the same time
as Linda's death,

Fabrice was caught by the
Gestapo and subsequently shot.

He was a hero of the Resistance,

and his name has become
a legend in France.

I have adopted tittie Fabrice,
with the consent of Christian,

his legal father.

His eyes are the same as Linda's,

and he's a most beautiful
and enchanting child.

I love him quite as much

and perhaps more
than I do my own.

Have you any interest
in seeing a witch?

I've brought one in my bag,
all the way from London.

Witchy-witchy-woo.

Witchy-witchy-woo.

Don't look scared at all.

You don't have to stand here
and humour me.

Beautiful child.

Poor Linda.

Poor little thing.

It's desperately sad.

But, Fanny, darling, don't you
think it's just as well?

The lives of women like Linda
and me aren't so much fun

when one begins to get older.

Well, let's hope that,
in years to come,

these boys' granddaughters

can be more than just a bolter
or a sticker,

or a Linda or a Fanny,

and decide who they are
irrespective of who they marry.

I do think that Linda would've
been happy with Fabrice.

He was the love of her life,
you know.

Oh, darling,
one always thinks that.

Every, every time.

Well, one does.