All language subtitles for School of Life (2017)

Sir?

Yes, show her in.

Sir.

Take a seat, Mrs...

Borel?

That's right, sir.

You live in Loiret county?

We say it's Sologne.

Thank you for making the trip.

I didn't come for that.
I'm visiting my brother outside Paris.

I asked to see you because,
as you know,

our little orphans are wards of the state,

especially war orphans.

That cannot last.

We have to place them
with foster families, you understand?

Yes, sir.

Ideally, the children would have a link

with their new home.

The file of young Caradec, Paul,

offers little, except your name.

You knew the father, I believe.

The father, no.

The mother, yes.

In what respect, without meaning to pry.

She was from back home.

My village.

And the child? You knew him?

No.

I never even saw him.

His poor mother died in childbirth.

Well, I won't beat around the bush.

Would you take the boy in?

You mean adopt him?

No, let's not be over-hasty.

If you get on, we'll consider it.

Sir, it's...

It's impossible.

You're accustomed to fostering children.

Yes, but...

Not him, it's impossible. I cannot.

Fine.

I won't insist.

Since you're here,
would you like to meet him?

Stop!

Quiet down!

- Bring me Caradec.
- Yes, sir.

Caradec!

Look, there's a mummy here for you.

C'mon, Caradec, don't be a chicken.

Knock that off.

Get over here.

Well, Caradec?

Want a night in the hole?

The lady wanted to meet you.

What will she think of you now?

I don't care.

Go back to your bed.

It's not those kids' fault.

After so long within these walls,

they have them in their heads, too.

That's why foster families are important.

Anyway...

Some chocolate?

No, thank you.

SCHOOL OF LIFE

Won't you talk?

Sorry?

No, ma'am, I don't feel like talking.

Please, don't give me any ma'ams.

I'm Célestine.

Mummy Célestine.

I don't call anyone mummy.

He's with me for the vacation.

My cousin's nephew's son.

There's work to be done
at the manor, Célestine.

Make it ship-shape, fast.

We broke the lamp in the blue room.
I'm sorry.

Don't worry, miss. I'll take care of it.

Hands off!

I must dash.
We're expected in Paris tonight.

That's not the Count.

That's his son.

His selfish son.

Why say I'm the son of your nephew's...

My cousin's nephew's son.

I can't let any old visitor stay,
you understand?

It was a lie, ma'am.

That you'll have to repeat
if anybody asks.

And no more ma'ams, I said.

I'm no countess!

Home sweet home.

I'll get changed.

He won't eat you. Just the opposite.

What's his name?

His name's Jeannot.

Come on!

The fox that was eating our hens.

That's good. You bagged it in the end.

That's your nipper?

The nipper's name is Paul.

My husband. Borel.

Dang, are we in prison here?

- What is it?
- Rabbit.

Don't you recognize it?

It's Jeannot.

That's yucky.

I'll explain.

Paul!

All my children slept in here.

Children, ma'am?

Please, stop the ma'ams.

They weren't really mine.

The Lord wouldn't give me my own,

so I looked after other people's kids.

They came up
with the name Mummy Célestine.

- Were they orphans?
- No!

You know, sometimes
families can't keep them.

They can put them into care.

Care is for deserted children,
without a family.

There's no shame, being an orphan.

Your dad was raised in care, too.

You didn't know?

How come you know, ma'am?

Somebody said.

Coming!

He goes to bed with the chickens.

With the chickens?

Get your head down.

It means he goes to bed early.

When not on his rounds in the forest.

At night?

Funny things happen
in the forest around here.

Sleep well.

Oh, my.

Will you shut me in, ma'am?

And just "will you shut me in"?

Will you shut it?

Why would I?

I might escape.

To escape you have to be locked up.
You're not.

With the moon in the forest,
you'd come running back.

Sleep well.

Come on...

Run for it, boys!

You wanna stay in jail?

Bunch of idiots!

You talk to rabbits now?

Close that up and help me feed the dogs.

I don't like dogs.

Scared they'll bite?
Sologne's not for you.

They forced me to come.

Did they? Now you're here, get to work.

You can arrest people?

Affirmative. A gamekeeper
is the policeman of the forest.

There are thieves in the forest?

For sure. Poachers, they're called.

- Poachers?
- Illegal hunters.

Parasites!

Stealing big game.

Fish, mushrooms, firewood, everything!

There's one here, Totoche...

- He's the worst.
- What did he do?

The question is, what hasn't he done?

He'll get what's coming.
I'll nab him red-handed.

Straight back to prison.
Penal colony even.

Hold tight!

That's better.

Vol-au-Vent!

Come on in.

They won't think you're grub or game.

You clumsy oaf! Out!

Hurry up!
I'll be late for work at the manor.

Fine.

- I'll come with you, ma'am.
- No.

The Count doesn't like children.

If you see him coming, run. Is that clear?

- What do I do?
- Whatever.

Just don't get up to anything.

- I can go for a walk?
- Of course!

Who's Totoche?

Who told you about him?

Your husband, Borel.

He'll send him to a penal colony.

The two of them fight like cat and dog.

But Totoche isn't a bad fellow.

He's just a bit...

How can I put it?

Free.

There you go. Truly free.

Unlike Borel,
who sticks to the straight and narrow.

Apparently, Totoche is a poacher.

In Sologne, who isn't?
It's tolerated, here.

Add to what you scrape from the earth.

Just to show how free Totoche is...

That's his house over there.

There is no house.

There is!

The boat in the nook behind the trees.

See it?

- There?
- Yes!

THE CALL OF THE FOREST

Boy! Boy!

Rescue him!

As if I can swim!

The idiot! He'll snag in the branches!

No, Boy!

Goddammit!

I've got you.

Catch!

Come on now.

Come on.

There we are!

Come on, girl.

My little girl!

Where'd you learn to swim?

At the orphanage,
it was bible study or swimming.

Why do you call her Boy?

I'd like to learn to fish.

I have no time.

What if I teach you something?

To swim, for example?

Look...

It was kind of you to rescue Boy,

but I don't want a kid on my hands.

A Parisian especially.

Run along.

Boy!

Come on.

Where are you going?

Over to Great Oaks.

With the northerly wind,

the pheasants will perch up there.

I'm not the only one who knows.

It's a full moon.

The rogue won't pass up his chance.

But then...

I'll catch him in the act.

Jail for Totoche.

What's that?

It's drying.

At night?

Look...

Over here.

I found you some togs.

So now you can dress up.

There!

How'd it go?

Not well, apparently.

He'll get what's coming to him.

Why get so worked up
over a few rabbits?

A few rabbits?

A few rabbits!

Eat your toast.

You again?

Beat it!

Did Borel send you to spy on me?

No, I swear.

Never swear. Don't you know that?

Scram! Vamoose!

- I want to come.
- I don't want you.

Boy!

Come here.

Borel was out all night
to put you away for good.

I know where you were. And with who.

If you don't take me...

Look here, you runt. If I'm caught,

I'll slit my throat
rather than go behind bars.

I was in jail, too.

Don't make me laugh.

An orphanage, it was called.

Not a sound.

Good work, Boy. Let's go!

Stop that!

That's poaching?

Poaching? What are you talking about?

Who does the game belong to?

One day, on one property.
Next day, on another.

What's that?

Didn't I tell you to stay silent?

Sure, but it's...

See those two fingers
at the back of the feet?

That tells you the animal's weight.

10 kg per centimetre.

What's that? 12 cm.

So it's a male.

3-4 years old, 120 kg.

A male what?

A hog.

A wild boar,
as city slickers like you would say.

How do you know it's a male?

Look...

Thanks.

Hold still.

Don't move half a quarter millimetre.

Don't move.

That's worth a 10-spot
at the pharmacist's to oil my tonsils.

Give me the bag. Quick!

Yes.

C'mon!

Hurry!

Totoche!

Come out, Totoche!

I know you're there.

Borel, what's going on?
Why all the racket?

I hoped to see some stags.

It's Totoche, my lord.
Another of his snares.

You need to press charges.

To press charges requires proof.
You have none.

Who says it was Totoche?

We're overrun by rabbits.

Somebody needs to take care of them.

To restrict rabbits,
the best way is fencing.

No, never.

No walls, no fences.
It's a forest, not a prison.

Stop screaming like a madman in my woods.

Here, walk on the dry part.

Be sure not to leave footprints.

Boy!

My sucker punch!

Got it?

Against the dogs, we have no chance.

Hooey. They're laid on the stag.

- Laden, sir?
- No, laid on.

With the scent
in their snout, on the brain.

Stag, stag, stag!

Come on.

Borel's laid on you.

Well spotted.

Another blank for the little warden.

Lucien, it's pheasant, the poultry?

For sure, it's pheasant.

The hunting season's not started.

You know the penalty
for dealing in stolen goods?

No worries,
they're from cousin Leonard's farm.

Corn-fed, gentlemen.

Corn like lead pellets?

Hi, Lucien.

- We've got him.
- Who?

Totoche, of course.

These snares are his.

Not to mention
the prints leading straight to him.

You always say that.

With the damp ground,
we can't lose the trail.

We've got him!

It's a mystery.

I don't understand which way he's going.

We can't do anything
unless we catch him in the act.

Or even the very act.

Very.

Did hunters kill it?

No.

Every winter, they just drop.

No...

The stag sheds them.

In spring, they grow back.

Heck of a surroyal.

A what?

Surroyal. Bay, royal, surroyal,
fork with two tines.

A 10-point.

Dédé with his barrow!

Do you hear that?

Birds, sir?

Not birds, goodness gracious me!

One bird. A warbler!

And that?

- I can't hear a thing.
- Of course, only natural.

Warblers are nicknamed
the sentries of the forest.

They sound the alarm
when there's danger.

Poor thing.

Good girl.

Leave it now.

Good girl.

Poor bird.

What do you mean? That's life.

Life isn't death.

That's precisely it.

For the fox to live,
the pheasant has to die.

And for the pheasant to live, well,

insects have to die.

For insects to live, plants have to die.

That's nature.

Life, death, life.

There.

My barrow!

Lord above!

We'll say an angler
gave you the crawfish.

Why?

He's no fool, Borel.

He knows you can't catch them
on your own.

I let you go in the forest
'cause I know who you're with.

It's our little secret.

If Borel finds out,
you'll never be allowed out.

You like Totoche?

You like him, too.

Besides Borel, everyone here likes Totoche.

You more than anyone else?

Cut out the pesky questions.

Who's that above Borel?

My little brother, Guirec.

The day he went to the front.

Did he come back?

Yes, thank the Lord.

My father never came back.

When we die, where do we go?

To heaven, of course.

So why put the dead underground?

They're like the living...

They need a home.

A tomb is a dead person's home.

With their name engraved on it.

So we can pray and think of them.

My father's in a military cemetery.

I never went.

I don't know where my mother's tomb is.

What are you doing here?

Who are you?

Answer me!

Thank your husband for the beautiful hare.

It wasn't Borel.

He was out playing the tomcat?

When the cat's away...

Who's the boy I saw loitering?

The little Parisian here on vacation.

He won't bother you again.

Does he have a name?

Paul.

Paul Lacassagne,
my cousin's nephew's son.

Fine.

Where is the boy?

Where were you so late?

Your father never taught you manners?

My father died in the war.
Leave me alone.

- Come again?
- Stop, both of you!

Stop! Let go of him!

I told you to go anywhere but the manor.

Go to your room
and learn some obedience.

If he's unhappy, he can go back to Paris.

His father died in the war?

Yes, poor kid.

You said Lacassagne was unfit.

Did I?

No, you're confusing him
with my nephew's cousin.

That one...

He's my cousin's nephew's boy.

He's not...

Well, then...

Who taught you?

Taught me what?

All about fishing, plants, animals.

I picked it up from watching.

At your age or smaller,
I was one of ten kids.

Dad says too many mouths
to feed and packs me off

to herd cows.

Cowboy?

In America, they call it a cowboy.

I'll call it what I want.

With my bundle on a stick...

I moved to a farm to look after the herds.

So by day, I was in the fields,

and by dusk, was back in the stables.

I slept in the straw. Happy.

I was free, with nobody pestering me.

Your parents must've been sad
never to see you.

Not a bit of it.

I only went back home a year later.

My mother and father didn't care,
barely said hello.

I thought, OK...

So long, folks!
And I went my own way again.

And ever since, see...

I've gone my way.

You never really had parents.

I guess not.

So we're the same.

It won't stop you growing, you'll see.

Lord of the Loire!
The magnificent salmon. See it?

Yes.

Are we going to fish it, sir?

We're going to try.

Right here, to snag the fella...

We'll attack from as far as possible.

You stay here and signal to me.

I'm counting on you.

It had better not dredge.

Got him!

Come on!

Dagnammit!

He's barely hooked on the lip.

Go low, beneath him!

Watch out, only one chance!

He's got fight in him.

Dagnammit!

Here...

I hereby declare you Knight

of the Fly Fishers.

Here we are, to round it off,

beautiful beurre blanc sauce.

Hold on.

There you go.

Rosemary.

Célestine always
recites a prayer before meals.

Are you in the god squad?

What's that?

A choirboy
who slurps the communion wine.

At the orphanage, I refused church.

Good for you.

Here, you know...

we prefer our wine to our Maker's...

Get it?

Sure.

Is Célestine coming here?

No, why?

The dishcloth.

- What dishcloth?
- The one she hangs at her window.

Listen, you!

There has to be a signal.

Or Borel could collar me.

Careful now...

Not a word.

Yes.

And so?

So if Borel's in the forest,
I won't go lay my snares.

Don't make me laugh.

So you go somewhere else.

So, how's your salmon à la Totoche?

Super good, sir.

That's all we need.

- A circus?
- That's no circus.

That's a shambles.

I wonder why the Count
lets those wastrels on his land.

They pilfer and pinch,

they swipe anything they come across.

You name it. Mushrooms, game, fish...

Like poachers, then.

Grab that bottle.

Remember that viper?

Have a glug.

It's good, not for church mice.

Son, now we've toasted, no more sir!

Five or six young fellows.

Coming down from Paris.

Where'd you get that?

I found it on the ground.

Bless us, Lord,
bless the food You gave us,

and those who have none.

Amen.

Have some respect for religion.

I'm not in the god squad, me.

- I'll slap him.
- Come on, stop squabbling.

Take a look at what I cooked up.

Tripe and trotters.

- You forgot the ears?
- No.

Your ear, Mr. Borel.

Want some?

You're wrong. It's the best bit.

What a sissy!

Heather brooms,
two for the price of one!

Hurry.

I'll pay you later.

Thanks.

Mrs. Borel! A good broom?

Put it you know where!

- Are you talking to me?
- Who else?

You soak! Wine bibber!

I expect you to teach that kid
about more than booze.

- He's my responsibility.
- Who is he even?

I told you, my nephew's...

No, I'm not buying it.

Come here.

If it isn't Totoche, the honest trader!

At your service.
A good broom for the wife?

No?

What do I tell the boy?

- I told you to keep out of it.
- Keep out of it?

Easy for you to say.

That'll teach you to spy on me.

Tito, leave him alone.

What's your name?

Paul. And you?

My name's Bella.

Great timing.
We're dancing for the Count.

Come on.

- How are you?
- Well.

Good to see you.

Same here, Joseph.

Guess what I saw. A stag!

A giant! At least 16 points for sure.

I counted them, like you said.

Have you been back at the bottle?

Don't make me laugh.

Grab the fry.

Our lucky day! Just what I needed

for the Grandbois Inn.

Nice.

Can you do the rest of the lines?

- Yes.
- Yes?

Here's two more to set up.

Keep an eye on the others.

I'll loan you my knife.

Watch out.

Make sure no one sees you.

Stop there!

In the name of the law,
drop your weapon.

Hands up!

Caught in the act. Poaching!

You're in big trouble, son.

Court and all.

You'll send me back to jail?

- The orphanage?
- No, real prison.

Unless you name names.

- No one.
- Really?

So whose is the knife?

- Mine.
- Don't flimflam me!

You're a poacher and you tell tales?

You expect the judge to believe you?

- The judge?
- Walk in front.

I brought you your sneak thief.

- What's he done?
- Good question.

He'll tell you if he has the dignity.

Don't let me catch him
in the forest again.

From now on, the wretch

stays with you.

- What about the Count?
- Don't care!

Watch him
or he's on the first train to Paris.

What have you done?

This time, your goose is cooked.
The kid talked.

What kid?

Don't play me for a fool.

You're going to jail.

He spilled the beans.
Your lines, your snares, your scams.

And this here is evidence.

If you have so much proof,
where are the boys in blue?

Isn't that the procedure?

I do it my way.
I don't take orders from you.

What's that?

That's...

- A lamp by the looks of it.
- A lamp?

- For night-time poaching.
- No, Mr. Borel, not at all.

It's a navy lamp.

For sailing on the Loire in the fog.

The kid's mine. He's mine, hear me?

Stay away from him.

Or else!

The Count's daughter is a super rider.

What are you talking about?
The Count's daughter is dead.

Are you sure?

Of course!

If you see the Count,
never mention his daughter.

Never!

It'd be too much emotion for him.

Fine.

Well?

I gave you a fright?

Yes, sir, a bit.

Looking at the trophies?

The 12-point with the black surroyal.

12-point? Surroyal?

Who taught you that?

Borel, sir.

At your age, I didn't know that.

This one is indeed a 12-point.

That was epic.

We lost him.
He jinked to make the pack throw up.

What do you mean, throw up?

It's a stag's ploy.

It lures the pack to other animals
so the hounds lose its scent.

We found a way around it.

Paul, come down here!

Leave him, Célestine. He's no bother.

You're really so interested
in hunting and animals?

Animals, yes.

Come here, I'll show you something.

Why are they all dressed up like that?

On a stag hunt, we dress up, as you say.

It's an age-old tradition.

Why not use a shotgun?

For an animal like that,
it can only be a blade. Nothing else.

Look...

The 15-point. The finest stag
ever taken on our land.

Never any bigger?

It is said

there's a monarch.

A monarch?

With 17, perhaps even 18 points.

A great and noble traveller

who ventures occasionally
onto our lands.

It must be a legend.
Nobody ever saw it for real.

What did you discuss?

Hunting, stags.

- I want to see Totoche.
- Borel's forbidden you to go.

We don't have to tell him.

Soon, with school,
you'll have no time for Totoche.

School?

You expected the vacation
to last till Christmas?

You mean you're keeping me?

Children!

Madeléine, Hermine, turn around!

Now, then...

Sit down!

Children...

Silence, you two chatterboxes.

Children, this is Paul Lacassagne,

your new classmate from Paris.

Silence, please!

Paul, Michel's seat.

Michel, back a row next to Olivier.

I hope you enjoyed your vacation.

Take out a sheet of paper...

Boy, come on.

Happy the man who, like Ulysses,

has made a fine journey.

Or like he who...

So, friend? Life treating you well?

Can't complain, my lord. Thank you.

Rich pickings?

It's not what it was.

So I see.

I could press charges.

For a few mushrooms?

It grieves me to say, we were freer
in the days of kings.

Rabbits, why not, but ceps are rarer.

Especially this year.

Who came up with that?

My gamekeeper.

Borel!

Rather than torment fellows like me,
he should look after your land.

Your oak trunks

by Closefontaine are full of termites.

- Really?
- Yes!

Let's take a look.

Borel doesn't know the mushroom spots.
Ceps are everywhere.

It was obvious.

Hail on St. Simeon's day,
mushrooms on St. Giles's.

Want some?

I prefer girolles, to be honest.

A girolle omelette. Pure bliss!

We have similar tastes.

Madeleine, my cook, always ruins them.

Too dry, too flat.

Perhaps she lets the butter go too dark.

It's ready when it's good and golden.

Next time, ask Célestine to make it.

The omelette queen!

The poacher entertained
by the gamekeeper's wife.

How amusing!

By the way, you know she's taken in...

a Parisian boy?

A Parisian boy?

I feel like I know him. It's odd.

The lad even claims
to have seen my famous monarch.

The 18-pointer's a legend, you know.

I wonder sometimes
if it might be based in fact.

Pitch black tonight.

Perfect night for lamp work.

I bet he's out there.

Poaching with a lamp isn't his style.

Yeah? I saw the lamp
he was working on.

As we speak,
he's tracking rabbits in Poigny.

He's in for a surprise.

I'll catch him in the act.

From Grandbois Inn, I'll call the coppers,

they'll bag Totoche and his booty.

Not so loud. You'll wake the boy.

The boy, as you say...

He looks like a bad'un.

Naturally, you don't see a thing.

No, believe me,

it's time to rid the country
of that raggedy old vermin.

All right, I see!

I'm allowed a drink now and then.

Easy. If I'm going to collar the guy,
I need to walk straight.

There.

Last one, why not.

One for the road.

Then I'll be going.

Come on.

Borel's on his way.

You out here at night?

What's in that brain of yours?

You could've caught a bullet!

I was scared.

- Scared?
- Borel said he'd put you in prison.

He's not been born,
the man who'll put me in prison.

Not born. You hear me?

It was Borel.
I said nothing about poaching.

- Not a word.
- I never doubted you.

You're a good little fella.

But never do that to me again. Hear me?

What would Célestine say
if you had an accident?

Take him home.

It's over now.

C'mon, son.

I don't have my barrow.

- Aren't you cold?
- I'm fine.

- A good drive, Mr. Bertrand?
- Yes!

Thank you.

Afternoon, your lordship.

- Afternoon, father.
- Bertrand.

I invited some friends back.

So I see.

Champagne! Pour it out, Armand.

Dearest Célestine,

I dreamed of a wedding at Herteignes,

in my village church.

Amid my family and friends.

It was not to be, as you know.

The best day of my life
was tinged with sadness

without you.

You'll find enclosed the wedding photo.

With all my love,
hoping to see you in Paris one day...

Your Mathilde.

Why the long face? What's wrong?

Who's on this photo?

- Give me that.
- No, explain first.

Give me that photo now!

Give me it!

My mother was Mathilde. Like the bride.

That's why I'm here?

My mother was from the village?

- You knew her?
- That's not it.

What is?

First, don't rummage in my drawers.

I don't care!

- I have a right to know.
- We'll talk later.

I'm too...

I'm too shaken up.
Let me get my thoughts straight.

I'm sick of you!

Of all of you!

Look who it is!

Have you seen Totoche?

No.

Hop in. You want a ride in my barrow?

Something's bugging your head.

Is it school?

Say, Dédé, how long have you lived here?

Back a while.

You never met any Mathildes?

This one girl wanted a ride

all the way to school.

She called me Brow!

She's gone now.

Gone where?

Gone.

Upstairs.

Come back.

What brings you snooping here?

Looking for my mother's grave.

Dédé told me...

"Dédé told me"!

You're listening to his imaginings now.

Supposing your mother's here...

Where does that leave you?

After stone, you'll dig in the earth?

Know what you'll find?

Rotten bones, stinking carcasses.

- It's what you want?
- No.

Let's run along now.
We'll be back soon enough.

Or I will.

For pity's sake,
chase the dark ideas from your nut!

Life is beautiful when it wants to be.

But it flies by. Make the most of it.

Every day of the week.

Cuckolds walk the streets.

Cuckold! Cuckold! Cuck!

- Know what a cuckold is?
- No.

Paul, do you want to talk?

Where would talking get us?

I don't know.

Nowhere, believe me.

Life's beautiful, not rotten carcasses.

Have you seen our great stag again?

The monarch?

No.

If he's on our land,
my dogs'll flush him out at some point.

Is he sick?

No, like me, he's old and weary.

Like an old mare.

He was my daughter's horse.

Nobody's ridden him since...

Since she left us.

You'd like to learn to ride,
young Lacassagne?

I asked you a question.

- That's not my real name.
- Isn't it?

I thought it was.

My real name's Caradec.

Just think, what a way to find out!

Yes, of course.

That's right. Of course.

I'm sorry.

Do you even realize?

I didn't mean any harm by taking him in.

You knew who he was, didn't you?

Yes. I'm so sorry.

Sorry for what, Célestine?

For hiding all that from you.

And Paul, what does he know?

Nothing.

I couldn't find the words.

That's good.

We'll let him make his own way.

Thank you, Célestine.

For bringing him back to me.

You disappeared. Where've you been?

At school.

Lucky you.

I don't go to school.

Come on.

It's nothing, just a stag bellowing.

What does it mean?

He's in love.

This time I saw it. The great stag.

Is that so?
How come only you ever see it?

It wasn't only me.

A doe sees the great stag!

That doesn't count.

You don't believe me? Come on, then.

Can't you see I'm working?

I don't want kids around here
if Borel comes. Go on!

Run along, both of you.

We hardly ever go over there.

Minaudière Pond?

No.

"No less than 18 points,

"like a crown on its head."

"The king of the forest
lived hidden in the thick woods."

It's no good?

Sure, it is. It's very pretty.

Tell me, this stag, the monarch...

You saw it for real or imagined it?

I saw it as I see you now.

For the second time.

Look, Paul,

don't mention the stag to anyone.

Hear me?

Not a soul.

You've seen it too?

The first time was five years ago.

He comes here every year
to rest up in a secret spot.

After the rutting season.

He needs protecting.

How can we protect a stag?

By telling no one about it.

Definitely not the Count.

Armand.

Pull over.

Yes, sir.

Get in.

You'll catch cold.

This isn't a 12-pointer,
it's a 15-horsepower.

So, is school going well?

Not bad.

The teacher says I'm a dreamer.

That's not necessarily a bad thing.

What do you want to do in life?

I don't know.

As a forest warden perhaps?

A gamekeeper?

I don't want to chase after poachers.

So perhaps you'd like to be a poacher?

You're right. More fun.

Yes, find the scent. Find it.

That's good. Find it.

I have a perfect line.
Like in a dream, my lord.

Is it him? You saw him for yourself?

Affirmative.

It's not an 18. It's a 17-point, no less.

I found it with Vol-au-Vent.

You should've seen the dog tugging.

Vol-au-Vent's never wrong. Let's go.

Father?

May I join the hunt?

Hunting in a dressing gown?

Pack up!

Good, Vol-au-Vent!

Forward!

Away!

Yes, Tapageaut! The line!

The line!

Vol-au-Vent, the line!

Find it!

Find it, for goodness' sake!

Come on, dogs!

Your lordship, upstream!

Hurry! Before we lose him.

My lord, it's the end.

In the water!

In the water, boys!

Strike without delay, my lord.

It could recover.

Like the 12-pointer we lost in Vaucquois.

You were right about the stag.

- You saw him?
- You bet!

One imperial fellow!

The Count and Borel hunted him down,

drove in for the kill.

And they did it?

They cornered him in a pond.

And then...

The Count, whose lifelong dream
was that trophy...

What then?

He gave him best.

At my age,

this sort of thing
is often the beginning of the end.

Don't exaggerate.

I worry about my estate.

There's nobody
capable of running it like you.

Nobody.

Nobody worthy of your trust.

What have you done to inspire trust?

Have you worked once in your life?

Coming from you...

You refused funding
for my automobile business.

Business?

You'd have helped my sister.

One question preys on my mind.

The great stag...

Why give it best?

Why?

For what it gave me.

Intruder! Out!

I asked for him.

Come in.

Closer.

Here's what you asked for.

Thank you, Célestine.

Do you like hot chocolate?

Here.

Don't spoil him, my lord.

Why not?

Who's that?

- My lady.
- Your lady?

My wife.

She succumbed to Spanish flu.

Everybody's dead in your family.

No!

Mr. Bertrand?

Borel.

Know where we can find it?

No, I've lost track of it.

So go back out there.

Scour the estate with the dogs.

The Count gave it best.

Don't argue with my orders.

Well,

until the stag is flushed out,
let's turn our fire on the ducks.

Killing a heron!

A curse on you!

Clear off, you witch!

And you! Go to hell!

Here, hold this.

Damn it!

I'm coming, Bertrand.

Where is the witch?

The heron...

You'll blame us for it?

- The gypsies?
- I want you gone by tomorrow.

Brats, women and all.

Your father won't allow it.

From now on, I decide.

Things will change around here.

What does that mean?

I'll teach you to read and write.

B and P.

As in Bella and Paul.

B.

And P.

Have you ever had a love kiss?

A real one?

Neither real, nor fake.
All I ever got were thumps and slaps.

I'll teach you.

My little Paul didn't come today.

He'd tire you out.

On the contrary.

I find it restful, talking to him.

Anyway...

I don't have long left to get to know him.

Come now.

You're wondering
why the Count protects us?

Tell him, Granny.

When he was a young man,

the Count fell in love
with a beautiful gypsy, too.

His parents did all they could
to drive them apart,

and stop them getting married.

Then it started over.

What?

The Count with his daughter.

He wanted to stop her wedding.

His dead daughter?

Yes, his daughter, Mathilde.

Your mother was the first baby I cared for.

I can see her now.

Little Mathilde.

The Count was besotted with her.

She meant everything to him.

Mathilde met a young man.

Jean.

Your daddy.

And fell in love with him.

Deeply in love.

He was a snipe.

What's a snipe?

He worked on the railroads,
came to lay track in the forest.

With your mother
riding across the property...

That's how they met.

They loved each other in secret in a hut.

In the middle of the forest.

When he found out,
the Count kept them apart.

He even called the police.

Your mother was underage.

They eloped together to Paris.

Your parents' love was more beautiful

and stronger than anything else.

War broke out.

Your daddy went away.

And he died at the front.

And you were born.

- And my mother died because of it.
- No!

Don't believe such a thing.
You're in no way to blame.

The doctors couldn't save her.

The Count was grief-stricken,
screaming like a wounded animal.

He'd ignored her letters.

He'd refused to see her.

And it was in a coffin
that she came home.

Why didn't you tell me before?

You know, sometimes...

We make mountains out of molehills.

I was scared I wouldn't find the words.

Now you know.

Your mother is so beautiful.

Was beautiful.

- I know how you feel.
- Don't care!

She needed your love before.

When she was still alive.

You drove her away, refused to see her.

You didn't go to her wedding.

You're right.

When I realized,

it was too late.

I couldn't understand my daughter.

Or accept her happiness.

I made everybody unhappy.

Now you're here.

And you need to be loved.

Come here.

My little Paul.

I ask your forgiveness.

Please forgive me, son.

Grandfather!

Back!

Hold tight! Tight!

Back, Lucifer!

Embrace your grandfather.

Can you deliver this from me?

He'd prefer that to flowers.

You won't come?

Me, funerals and churches...

It's not my department.

Give the boy a hug.

He doesn't like hugs, remember?

Do whatever the heck you want.

Just tell him.

My condolences, sir.

Thank you.

My sincere condolences, Mr. Bertrand.

Sir.

Your late father's signet ring.

You see?

We're here.

Where the river marks
the property's northern boundary.

We'll continue construction
of the wall up ahead.

Where there's no natural boundary.

No! I refuse to leave this portion open

to every type

- of intruder.
- The river, sir.

The river can be crossed at several points.

I don't want anyone
waltzing in as they please.

The perimeter wall must surround

the grounds in full.

Know what his wall means?
It means death.

Why's the wall so bad?

Large animals,

like boars, deer, stags, they need space.

One season, they're in one spot.
Then they move.

For food, but not only.

After rutting, stags need vitamins
for their antlers.

That takes them anywhere,
coming and going.

Yes. With his damn wall, it's over.

No more mushrooms or chestnuts!

No more firewood! Nothing!

He can't ban everything.

Dédé, at least try to understand.
It will be shut in! Over!

They won't get away with it!

Come on.

Silence!

The son's out to kill the great stag.

He blames it for the Count's death.

A fine excuse.

The idiot has found where it beds.

Well...

The stag was given best.

Killing a pardoned animal is sacrilege.

We have to prevent it.

Borel! Come on!

Raving imbecile!

C'mon, Borel!

It's cornered!

Go!

No, sir!

Back!

Tapageaut!

Vol-Au-Vent!

Yes, good dogs!

You're fired.

Fired!

Where will you live now?

Romorantin, with my sister.

In town?

It will hurt to leave all this.

Poor Borel, I'll miss you.

It's mutual.

We'll miss you, too.

Old brother, since you're leaving,

let's swap boots.

Our boots?

My sucker punch!

Very useful when boys in blue
or gamekeepers are after you. Look.

Dirtbucket!

They're yours. You leaving
will be like coming back.

You dirt bucket!

Mr. Germain Borel?

What are they doing here?

I asked them to come.

We were expecting you, Mr. de la Fresnaye.

Please sit for the reading
of your father's testament.

"I, the undersigned,

"Philippe Louis Alexandre de la Fresnaye

"declare this
to be my last will and testament,

"which supersedes
all previous arrangements.

"I bequeath the following assets
to the following people...

"For the gypsies,

"the enjoyment,
for an unlimited duration, of land

"between the La Vilote stream
and the Bois Baudet trail.

"A surface area of roughly two hectares.

"For Mr. Germain Borel

"and his wife, Célestine,

"full ownership of their accommodation,
vegetable patch

"and adjacent garden."

"Same arrangements
for Armand and Madeleine Lemercier."

"To my son, Bertrand,

"with regard to his previous wagering
of the family estate,

"I bequeath the means to live
from hard work at last,

"the ownership
of my vinegar factory in Orléans,

"on Rue du Faubourg Bannier,"

"and the adjoining accommodation."

Very good, counsel.

And the rest?

Wait!

Come back to see us, Uncle Bertrand.

The grounds are open to all now.

Goodbye, Mr. Bertrand.

Take care.

My little Paul!

Hey, guys!

Guess what!

The kid...

Paul, I should say...

He's been named sole legatee.

Something like that.

He's inherited the house
and the grounds.

The forest, the great stag,

it's all saved.

A whole sounder.

15 pigs, 3 sows and one old boar.

Yes.

Big, male,

at least 130 kilos.

If we let them, they'll ravage the crops.

And tomorrow, the vines.

What I'd recommend, Mr. Paul,

is to organize a beat.

All right, we'll have a beat
tomorrow morning.

Fine.

What time, Mr. Paul?

Nine o'clock?

Nine o'clock.

Drives us hard, the boss.

Let's go.

Mummy Célestine.

The honour's yours.

Animals with fur, feather or scales.

Animals that bellow, sing or croak.

Subtitles: Simon John.

Subtitling: HIVENTY