All language subtitles for The Bronte Sisters

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And they were all like sheep

men, women, children,

manufacturers of wool.

From dawn to dusk,
they worked like animals.

When you live like that...

naturally, with a fixed salary,

The men drink or game.

As long as they endure

all those who continue to live and feel...

Meanwhile, the Brontes wrote.

Filled their pages with fine and illegible writing.

THE BRONTE SISTERS

That's it! Now you can come up!

It's finished.

The resemblance is remarkable.
You are a true artist.

I am very happy, Branny. Really.

Emily and Anne, perhaps

Charlotte and myself caused me more trouble.

But it is very true. Exactly.

We have an artist in the family.

Emily, your jacket and pants are dirty again.

Walking around the heath dressed as a man...

You look like a scarecrow.

In addition, your aunt deems it indecent.

I can walk faster and farther in these.

Anyway, wherever I go, nobody sees me.

Come, Emily.

Look how beautiful the wild roses are.

It's called a Dog Rose.

- You like it?
- No.

I like this holly.

Holly?

But it's humble, sad and banal.

You only see the look of things.

Now, I love the wild rose because it is vibrant.

But it soon loses its flowers, it fades early.

Will it be beautiful in the winter?

Holly will always be green.

The wild rose is love.

Love that only blooms once.

I trample on it in disdain.

Spit in love and vanity.

Holly is friendship.

And will last another winter.

"Charlotte is working in the room,

Anne and I are writing.

Anne, a poem beginning with:

"Beautiful began the night, radiated the sun... "

August first.

A cool day with fine gray clouds, but sunny.

Tia works in the room.

Papa is out. Tabby is in the kitchen. "

And Branwell?

You say he met Leyland, the sculptor.

What did he say in his letter?

His letter said...

Said...

"I would resemble him.

much talent,

very elegant

he is very casual,

something comes of it,

a glow soon flashes,

not mistaken. "

I just wanted to know the address

if I passed by my county, it's not that far.

And the world is a handkerchief.

It would be a honor to receive

and introduce you to my sisters,

Here, I would never ask you to dinner with me.

Or take a beer.

Do you prove yourself singularly
lacking in boldness?

You need to live in the city

Bradford, although small,

gives me a chance in this life.

Joe Leyland has been a valuable ally.
He said I should make a choice.

No doubt between painting and poetry.

I saw his work at the museum, most powerful:

"The Satan of Paradise Lost", inspired by Milton.

In a man like him

glory looms, hopeful.

Portraits, now fast,

are done today with calotype plates,

in this new device.

I can not compete with it.

Therefore, I have taught my poems
of the Kingdom of Gondal.

So as a man, I can confess to some of our secrets.

I do not know if my talent can reach
its potential through fame.

You have no idea what the city is, sisters.

It is as different as life and death, day and night.

Here you are in a cave.

whereas there everything is infinitely faster.

Listen, Charlotte,

you do not know the rules of society,

but the great Joe Leyland says
they bay after one another,

and, when they are known, will radiate my triumph.

Here is my project.

What it can pursue. This will be my life.

For now, you're heavy.

Branwell...

Is it the smell of sulfur?

Emily...

- Emily, will you open it?
- No, as long as I'm here.

Who is it?

John Brown, the sexton.

I do not think you want him to enter.

No, indeed.

- As annoying as he is, I'll go.
- Branwell...

What is it, sister?

It's cool...

The Black Bull is so full of smoke
that one can not see an inch.

What are you doing here so late?

Emily, answer me, are you sick?

Do not worry, Charlotte, I am very well.

I'm all right.

Go to sleep, tomorrow you will work
as much as Tabby.

I hope Branwell does.
I do not want to wake up to get potatoes.

And you?

For those awake at this hour?

You expect Branwell?

So you are who you called.

I thought we had reached
an agreement with Tabby.

It's unusual...

These too are rare.

Something has happened?

Possibly.

Has it to do with Branwell?

In a way.

What is it?

From a letter. Not anyone,

from who you will lose sleep.

- A letter from Southey.
- From Southey?

It's fantastic.

Branwell is happy.

After so many poems,
a reply from a great lady of dignity.

Charlotte, we should spring this surprise.

Charlotte...

These are very rare.

Have you read anything?

It's flattering, in all.

I don't want to sleep, I want to read it here.

Not to Branwell.

It's not addressed...

God, I'm that stupid. You could have written it.

It's under a pseudonym. But I guess it was a woman.

Here, Leela.

"Without a doubt, this is what we call poetic talent.

And hate to say that it is so rare nowadays... "

"Therefore, whoever has ambitions thus distinguished

must be prepared for disappointment.

Even if you are dedicated to literature

I feel it is my duty to warn you.

We urge you to write just for pleasure

and not from a desire to be famous.

Literature can not and should not be a female occupation.

The more that women are occupied with their real duties,

the less time they have to write

either as entertainment or pastime.

But that does not belittle the gift that you possess. "

Emily.

So I have two sisters on guard.

Wonderful.

Wonderful.

What you were up to?

Leela's few pages seemed to be of great interest.

We read the sermon the pope wrote last Sunday,

the forgiveness of offenses.

Matthew XVII, 21. True, you always hear such nonsense.

- I wonder if the old man in the Cree...
- Not so loud, they can hear you up there.

Open within four years.

I wonder where and how,

and when that day will be.

Hopefully we are good.

Will you sign it?

I believe that within just four years,

we will all be happy.

I think we will have gone somewhere.

Where?

Charlotte and I gain in years

But Emily is just as busy at home, and works like us.

I have the same defects as four years ago,

but I have gained in wisdom and experience,

I am more a master of myself.

I do not forget the Kingdom of Gondal.

I do not know if we have both been
protagonists in these four years.

- Or where you will be.
- Miss Bronte.

Sorry to interrupt, but the children are done.

I must ride home.

I am obliged to repeat forever.

Please, Mary, tell me what that word is.

Me Against the Little History of Bedtime?

Of course, with the condition that you say the word.

- What if we cast off?
- No.

Drink more tea. Some biscuits?

It should provide greater benefits, but how?

We know French.

Enough to read, but not to teach.

Without even mentioning German and music.

Which, in short, need to be improved.

The parents of my students think
that six months on the continent...

It doesn't bear thinking.

You, straight, Protestant, English...

with the Jesuits, the Catholics...

It would only be six months, aunt.

We know people in Brussels.

It could cost a fortune.

If we stop at Brussels, Emily and I would go alone.

Anne, then Iria.

And Miss Wooler would lend us the furniture

So as not to use all the credit
that you have so kindly given us.

We would take care of the travel and lodging.

What would your father think?

You seem very ambitious, very bold.

Has anyone ever achieved anything without ambition?

I want success for all of us. I know we have talent.

I would hope that we could do something,
even if a little.

Emily, come here.

Let me look at the two of you.

The hairstyles you wear......

The suite.

You won't play the suite?

No, not the suite.

Miss Bronte, let me congratulate you.

I see no trace of the languor
characteristic of their sex

in this way of playing.

If it is a compliment, I appreciate it,
Mr. Heger.

Not exactly a compliment.

What would you have been born?

Excuse me?

It necessitates no answer,
but I guess a navigator.

In Andalusia no boat could use a piano teacher.

I do not think so, Mr. Heger.

If you will excuse me.

Emily does not like to travel

and you do not like the sea.

He spoke about a teaching job...

I want...

I would like to teach English here,
under his command.

I have the vocation for teaching.
I'm sure you will not be disappointed.

- I am convinced.
- We'll see, if you do not mind.

You can return to the garden.

They say that in England

they are just like ham and potatoes!

- What do you mean, ham?
- The back of the ham.

Ham with potato...

Because this Bronte was chopped.

I am unaware of such an expression.

Meanwhile, take this.

Give me that.

Forbid her to come into the kitchen.

We talked about this. Stop it now, miss.

I do not want to know now.

Avril,

stop whining.

Nobody got hurt.

Furthermore, it is well deserved.

Silence!

I will not tolerate any whispering.

Sit!

The duties on the death of Napoleon.

Charlotte Bronte, the blackboard.

Napoleon was born in Corsica
and died in Santa Elena.

Between the two islands,

there is nothing but a vast and arid desert.

A vast and barren desert and the vast ocean... "

But...

Has the doctor been called?

He said: "Fatigue due to constipation. "

I can not even believe it.

I still hear their cries.

My mother has been done for ten years.

John Brown,

I made sure two nights in a row.

I have attended such suffering that
I would not wish upon my worst enemy.

I wrote to Charlotte and Anne when I
learned that nothing could be done.

It's too late.

Did you not eat anything?

You'll be cold.

Charlotte and Emily

are lagging.

We will not start without them.

With a storm like that,
I am not surprised that the car has been mired.

Branwell... Branwell, come.

Come with me, Branwell.

I'll take you to the Black Bull.

I hated Brussels.

I am glad to be here.

I've drunk of the wine.

What horror!

You're upset, we saw her die.

It's over, Charlotte, you should not stay here.

I'll take you home to Robinson.

They need a tutor for Edmund.

If I'm close by, everything will be better.

God, I was stupid.

I was stupid.

Why?

I was stupid to come back.

Already dead and buried, what did it serve?

Should never have come back. Never.

I knew it. It should have been.

I'll go to Brussels at once.

Ready to face Robinson, Branwell?

That outfit will be great.

Thank you, sister, and Emily.

If I have not stitched together the collars
and sleeves, who would have made it?

True, they're resplendent.

How is Robinson?

Cultured enough to appreciate our talent.

And smart enough not to bother.

And generous enough to pay us properly.

He is ideal.

Branwell, you will be placed as a teacher

and all students will be enamored of you.

If you go this afternoon, I want to say thanks.

But why? What are you doing?

I am authorised to stay here.

I wanted to thank you and wish you bon voyage.

You're done?

You're done? I didn't hear the glass break.

Can you really not see anything from here?

I just hope that I see my son next month.

As for Anne, it does not matter, of course.

That's not what I meant.

I know how good it is to see Anne and Charlotte.

- But have grown tired of writing.
- Yes, it is strange.

"I fear for you, old sailor,

afraid for your bare hands... "

Edmund, write: "I fear for your bare hands. "

- I'm tired.
- We shouldn't stop.

What would I say to your father? Write.

- No.
- Listen...

If you finish dictation,
we'll play croquet together before dinner.

- What are we having for dinner?
- Turkey and grouse.

- And what else?
- Fish.

- What kind of fish?
- I don't know.

- Don't know?
- No.

I told the chef to buy fish without specifying which.

This is incredible.

The owner of the house does not know
what we are going to have for dinner.

Buys fish without asking the fishmonger?

Maybe it would be appropriate to ask you
about dinner from now on.

Miss Bronte, I am surprised
that my daughter has this hairstyle.

I am used to seeing her with a triple braid
tied with knots.

Let the tresses up to comb her hair properly.

My dear, please keep this creature in decent condition.

Papa, can I play croquet with Mr Bronte?

He has finished the dictation.

I do not see why you should play in the garden.

Or whatever else in this house.

Mr Bronte has no duty to do other than recite lessons,

correct your mistakes, improve your work

and make us proud of you,
which is not always going to happen.

So I pay the quarterly amount of 20 pounds,

what many deem a comfortable amount.

It amazes me that you think about
playing with Mr Bronte,

and that Mr Bronte thinks of playing with you.

Notwithstanding the honour to dine at our table

I can imagine the trial of losing family members.

Mr Bronte, however wise, one seeks,

differs only from our domestic detail

and the rate of remuneration.

Mr Robinson...

It was Mr Bronte's turn to learn a lesson.

Do not take it amiss, but remove Provencher.

Come with me, if you want to have fun.

I'll let you ride Andy, the red pony.

No, I prefer to mount Jean, the mare.

You will ride Andy, the red pony.

Mr Bronte...

Do not leave now.

Mr Bronte, I disapprove of the ways of my husband.

Very good, madam.

Hold on!

I am ashamed...

of the rude words of my husband.

Mr Robinson is hard, proud,

and I believed in him,
at least in his position in the world.

I never thought of you as a servant,

but as a wise man, spiritual and sensitive.

I saw it from the first day.

I just wanted to say that.

It is pleasant to walk far.

Thurston, take care of the flowers.

They say it is an enchanted tower.

The legs of Mr Robinson's grandfather
go up and down the tower.

Just one leg, on some winter nights.

It sounds perfect.

What will we find here

that was made up? Nobody knows.

Edmund, who fears nothing but the whip of his father,

sometimes comes to play here.

What is it?

I imagine a hairy leg jumping into this room.

A little decency, please. It was a dubious pleasure.

Enough. I cannot bear more flirtation.

Enough with your esteemed husband.

Lydia Robinson, I spend days and weeks here

and I refuse to lie on the grid of St Laurence.

Please make my stay bearable in this house, or...

No.

Let's go.

May we be fully grateful for what we receive,

What the Lord gives us and what he has given us

- Amen.
- Amen.

Amen.

This is not edible.

Bring the stew.

What happened to the lamb, dear?

It's only good for the cat.

Do you not see that it has lost all its flavour?

Can't you see that it lacks the delicate pink centre?

The lamb is done too. Get it cooking.

Serve the stew.

Velvet paws, amber eyes, beautiful animal

that comes to see me?

Come to me, want a kiss?

No kiss? Will you now?

No, not now.

Oh, that sound so strange that beams.

Looks like a honeycomb...

Go, go, you miss out. Straight to the ground.

Mama, why do we need flowers today?

And why is Mr Bronte's so red?

Silence! Children do not speak at the table.

What's the matter, Mr Bronte? Feel unwell?

I am rather close to the fireplace,
but it's not uncomfortable.

Thank you, sir.

Mr and Mrs Robinson

I ask permission to withdraw.

I suffer greatly from a migraine.

Do you want Nancy to prepare a herbal tea?

I would appreciate it.

I should go to bed.

Under the supervision of your sister,

they do not know that I am an abominable mother.

You are not an abomination.

Is that so?

I am as one dead...

One dead with the breathing of a cat.

Look at the cat, who is quiet.

Calm down.

Take me.

I've never heard anything like that.

- What kind of man are you?
- A type of...

Do not say more.

You are a madman, a poet, and I am an old woman.

Old and lost.

May God forgive me. Not that I have deserved his wrath.

Leave this where it is.

The old man does not care.

Lydia...

The law sleeps and one can believe in happiness.
You are so beautiful.

You are so beautiful.

Come on.

Do you not realise what is wrong with this?

Remember that birds are just like you.

Would you like the same to happen to you?

I'm not a bird and don't know what they feel.

Maybe some day you will suffer it, Edmund.

You know where the bad go after they die.

- If you do not stop torturing...
- Let yourself stop this nonsense.

Papa knows what I do and has never reproached me.

Last summer I caught some sparrows

and saw their glued feet, wings and head,

and said nothing, just saw that they were dirty

as a stain on your pants.

- And what does your mother say?
- No time for that.

In fact, there are much more ugly things in these traps.

Ask your brother, Miss Bronte.

Or go to the tower. They are there, the two of them.

I hope you return soon.

I hope that your husband recovers quickly, Lydia...

Mrs Robinson, I hope it is not serious.

He usually feels bad when the holidays are approaching.

There are people who do not bear the
happiness that they entail.

But surely he will improve in the afternoon.
I hope so.

Do not imagine the shame that should cause me to go.

Yes, I know.

Branwell, the bags are ready. We have to go.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

See you soon.

Why not say anything?

Do not judge me, little sister.
You know nothing about life.

You and your sisters have educated you
as potatoes in a cave.

That is not true love.

The arid and wrenching passion that makes fun of the act.

Be quiet.

Do not look complacent and impious
in discussions, please.

It was hard there, save your speeches.

Poor little thing, fragile soul, the perfect Methodist.

Drag your cross, we have educated you.

But I do not scrub my face.

I am free like the wind.
And the wind blows where it wants.

The wind...

Anne, are you all right?

It's nothing.

Sometimes it feels like a twinge.

Ah yes... The famous twinge.

It is a village in the countryside like
an oasis in the desert.

The wind moans...

Moans disconsolate and winters are atrocious.

I like this time.

I love Brussels. It's not like my country.

I feel I could spend my life here,
learning and studying.

However...

- You have told me you should leave.
- Return.

Duty tells me that again.

The duty of the firstborn, as it were.

I received bad news from my father.
He is losing his sight.

Besides...

- Your sister Emily?
- My brother.

Your brother?

How is he?

Messy like the wind and with a
nightlife full of secrecy.

But he will return. He would never be cruel.

I do not know what he says.
Students will make their life miserable, I know.

I do not know, suffice to look at you.

Your eyes are sunken with insomnia.

- I know I'm no beauty...
- I never said that.

I'm mistaken.

Do not grieve for my students.
Please do not make any commotion.

I like this work above all else.
Believe me, I beg you.

Do not pack then, I think.

I do believe, but I think you could
use some time with your family.

You seem to be exhausted.

Whatever you say, sir.

You are the master, I the student,

and owe obedience.

Should I continue?

You came to tell me you were going.
It was not I who ordered it.

Bon voyage, Miss Bronte.

It's you? Come in, I thought it was Branwell.

- He's at the Black Bull?
- Of course.

Do not stay here.

Bring dry clothes, Charlotte.

I can not bear any more.

- The abuse?
- No, much worse.

I was covered with flowers and gifts.

Oh, these gloves.

And with a bland tenderness that is unbearable.

I think I am going mad again.

- I have only one hope.
- Tell me.

It is horrible, but he is sick.

He has had four successive attacks,

and the doctor told me that the
next could be fatal.

I take this thought to bed...

That's good news.

Do not say that.

Do not say it like that.

Yes, he could die,

but he may also survive for years and years,

always wanting me to be at his side,

moaning while sick as a dog...

And what will become of me?

Do not shelter under this cowardly hope.

It is a hope...

to which I must cling.

Excuse me.

Do you know where we are?

We are at a crossroads.

One of those places where no acts are inhumane

Think of those who took their own lives.

If I took hold of a shovel

dug where I tied my horse...

Quiet! I forbid you to talk like that.

I may not speak,
but you cannot prevent me thinking.

I think of you sleeping, Lydia.

Your bowed hair loose.

So I do not see your face.

Incorrigible talker. Should I believe what you say?

- Lydia...
- Listen, I speak seriously.

As you complain about bad luck

I live in an atrocious situation

between a husband and children
who are cold and vicious.

Should I think you come to cry for both our fates?

What do you want to do?

You are a poet.

You write novels.

What do they do in novels?

In novels?

Behave like a man.

Sequestered.

Day or night, I can find neither peace nor rest.

If I sleep, I dream of torment.

Wherever I look,

it's severe,

always serious,

always irritates me...

The mail is arriving late.

The boats cross with the same
regularity in the winter, don't they?

- Are you talking about the storm?
- No...

I've spent so long waiting for this letter...

By now my hope was fading.

I'm afraid it's for your brother.

I suppose that there is other news you expected.

But beware of people lost in a place like this.

You will not see many people at your school.

School? Ah yes, school.

Goodbye, Mr. Rasper.

You three know how to teach children.

I'm sure.

Branwell!

A letter for you.

He has died.

Mr Robinson has died. That changes my life.

He is dead! We are free! Lydia is free!

Emily...

What? Have you seen a ghost?

Maybe.

"I've seen a ghost standing

where they are.

At his feet three rivers ran... "

If you ever spy on me again, you will regret it.

Emily, I came by chance.

You must hear...

No-one allows you to enter here.

Never go to this room.

Since you're nobody to me. Nobody.

I knew that you would be infuritated, but I risked it.

Let me in. I have never lied about anything.

Are you so unbearably stubborn?

- It deserves to be published.
- Never. Never.

You can not live here anymore. Never.

I hate you.

You do not know how much I hate you.

It's what you always wanted, Emily.

We have always written.

The internship, the young Bronte girls

were a mask of cardboard,

so vainly masking the truth.

We must publish these poems. We should publish them!

Publish! Idiot.

You and your dreams of glory that are
worth as much as people's love...

No...

Anne! Emily!

- Why hasn't he woken?
- It's opium.

He was given a provision of laudanum
from the pharmacy.

As in England, we all ask the same thing.

- Who is Curren Bell?
- In fact, who is "it"?

Male or female?

Miss Martineau and Mr Lewes are
in disagreement with this item.

I do not take the opinion of experts

like Dickens or Thackeray.

If the author of "Barry Lyndon"

and "Mugby Junction"

see a woman behind this story of a governor,

I think we can agree.

Wisdom would dictate the opinion of a woman.

In "Jane Eyre", the description of the love
of the governor by his teacher,

is something that a man could not have written,
at least not alone.

But the harshness of certain passages
can not be attributed to a woman.

So I am inclined to believe it is a collaboration.

Newby, in direct competition,
has just published two novels written by Bell,

the editing was abominable, incidentally.

Two volumes continue from the second edition of "Jane Eyre"

and intend to go to press in six months.

That's not all.

"Jane Eyre" is sweeping America.

Other editors

wish to acquire the rights of the next Curren Bell novel.

We have reached an agreement with Johnson in New York.

But as I have just mentioned

Newby came to that same agreement with the competition.

Well?

He has just signed a new novel by Acton Bell:

"The Tenant of Wildfell Hall", a dark history of alcoholism,

Newby claims that it exceeds the first three.

Sell your merchandise...

They also seek the authors' identity,
and that is the catastrophe,

They want to be able to demonstrate through testing

that Curren, Ellis and Acton Bell are the same person.

That is a problem.

Mrs Martineau and Lewes, your opinions?

Can these three authors be a single person?

I think this is a man and a woman.

They have a direction to write.

Maybe he or she will consent,

to emerge from anonymity.

I tremble just thinking about this trip.

I fear for Branwell.

If it reaches his ear, it will kill him.

It will not happen.

He has closed his ears to the outside for quite a while.

He spends the day sleeping.

Maybe he is just pretending.

Then, it's too late. He already knows everything.

I wonder if this trip to London is really necessary.

We have to deal with the struggles between editors?

To accept or reject edits.
Here our treatment should be limited.

Do not return to this theme. They will respect you.

Make no comment on anything about yourself, Emily.

Just say that Ellis Bell also exists.

Not a word more.

Coach!

Am I at least presentable?

Emily, tell me...

Are you not afraid?

Understand me...

if it really is him and not another,

they came from far and wide to see him

and I can not let him down.

He will not be disappointed.

Are you wearing your father's jacket?

Leyland. Joe Leyland.

That's right.

Maybe,

When they told me you were coming

I did not believe it.

Not so long ago wrote...

At first I thought it was a trap.

Oh yes? A trap?

I thought at first.

But I am glad... Good.

And Lydia, surrounded by powerful people.

I hate this like the incarnation of the devil.

You must have not eaten.

Yes, I've eaten a little.

More than many who did not.

In truth, I have spoiled myself a lot in life.

And ultimately become the owner of my fate.

I gave so freely to more pleasure...

The weather clears images that you obsess over.

You waver, Leyland, but I do not have time.

At 28 years, I am an old man,

even more than one elder.

I am an old man?

A man who is still looking

but who lacks the strength to achieve.

Meanwhile, I do not even want it.

You should return your brother, miss.

It is already late and I have been here some time.

I hope you are not angry for having taken so long.

In truth, I must be in Bradford by morning.

Goodbye, Branwell, I will write soon.

You can make it.

Frankly, I do not think so. I can not climb the slope.

And I tell you that you can.

Is Mr Smith in his office?

Could you tell him we want to see him?

Who should I announce?

I told you we do not want to give our names.

But we have something to say that may interest him.

Excuse me, sir,

I see that you are French.

Indeed, miss.

- You know France?
- No, only Belgium.

- And you, miss?
- No, no.

So, Belgium? You were in Brussels?

Yes, I was in Brussels.

What do you wish?

I think you wrote this.

Where are you from?

I am Curren Bell.

And she is Acton.

We are three sisters. There is no man.

I could not save anything. A morass.

This is what we call this condition.

He no longer ate anything. There was no cure.

Do you have a tape or thread?

This time we must accept the challenge.

The reunion in the chapel of Keighley is a provocation

to the English church.

If you pretend to ignore this,

consider it a victory for them

and a defeat for us.

I refuse to allow the Church to be a
forum for political debate.

It is a world of trouble

in which our task is to reduce poverty

that inspires terror from the sky.

I meet them less, but their help is needed.

And they should not go cold.

The cold comes soon.

Until tomorrow.

Miss, excuse me.

If I can be of some consolation to those
who recently lost their brother,

I will.

Thank you very much, Mr Nicholls.

Charlotte has given me the criticism of your book.

Want to hear it?

- Yes.
- America is no better than England.

"The author of 'gusty summits' believes
that the spirit of perversity

is the sum of several animal ferocity.

and has chosen the strongest features of the wolf,

the jackal and wild cat,

to create a demonic beast that will be
the hero of this novel. "

- Shall I continue?
- Yes.

"The author would achieve this effect infinitely better

with greater economy of means. "

I see, thanks.

You can take it back to Charlotte.

I have not seen worse, my child.

Your father is haunted and his eyesight deteriorates.

As for Charlotte, she dares not say anything

but gives her life to end the suffering it causes.

Look at Anne, she is not like you.

Anne is the sweetest of all.

She understands that it is for her sake.

She is an angel of patience. An angel of patience.

We beg you, Emily, just once.

For your father, for me, Charlotte, Anne.

God, that you would be so bad?

I'm not bad...

but you are too... nervous...

...too much importance...

these stupidities.

It is very good.

You must take this regularly until the
symptoms disappear.

That twinge in your side...

Is it permanent?

Is common.

- Here?
- Yes.

Emily feels the same.

Often I have watched, while no one thought I observed.

How is your cough?

Dry? Spaced out? In short spasms?

- Deep?
- Deep and cavernous.

The last time I took her pulse, it was
115 beats per minute.

Again, Charlotte? I will go crazy here, do not leave.

You'll take sick. Stay, you will both be sick with cold.

I'll be right back.

- What is the point?
- Don't you understand?

She is not like others.

Something of the hills...
she needs something from the heath.

You are right: it is not a stupid medicine
that will give you health.

It's magic... A perfume, an odour.

Something you can touch, feel. Surely we can find it.

Charlotte!

You'll find nothing.

The heath is a desert.

Look what I found, Emily.

It's holly. Hillside Holly.

I just found this.

The hillside was like ice cream.

Charlotte!

If you call a doctor, I'll agree to see him.

No, Anne, we must save her walking clothes.

We can not bury her dressed as a man.

I believe we have been together somewhere.

- Where?
- I don't know.

The seaside.

I have never seen the sea.

I would like to see it one day.

May the grace of our God always be with us.

Strengthen our work.

Strengthen our work.

I feel revitalized, happy.

To me this trip is so much of an illusion.

I could spend hours here, couldn't you?

No. Neither here nor on the heath.

Life is so insolent.

I could never earn a penny share

overturning whatever that gives.

It would take a long time.

Thus the works of the young are always full of slag.

But that is not the case of Charlotte Bronte,

whose talent is recognized in London

and tomorrow will be at the opera.

Life is too short for art.

We need much more time to tighten our outer shells.

Hard and shiny.

But the devil of it is

that it is often brilliant but not harsh.

"In a state of hostility towards those who I would love... "

"Instead of living in a state of hostility

I want to love... "

"Instead of living in a state of hostility

I want to love,

prefer to leave

than became the most miserable of women. "

"I'd rather leave... "

I don't want to look.

Would you prefer to see your face
on the walls of this hotel?

I don't want to look.

I don't want to look, it seems
that instead of having a skull,

it is a relief map

printed with the names of the organs of sensitivity,

morality and intelligence.

I do not know of such a thing.

Whence comes this impression?

Mr Smith, my editor. I went to a phrenologist.

Making my daughter go through
with the name of Miss Frazer.

This is a fun lot.

And the report will show you the teacher.

Mr Arthur Bell Nicholls, Charlotte Bronte?

Come in.

You just brought my portrait
painted by Richmond?

I would not want to abuse my rights
as husband and find out before you

Nor will I open it.
I have no desire to see myself.

Mr Smith is waiting for us in his car.
It will take an hour to arrive.

Before that...

for the opera...

I thought to give you a gift.

It is for a better view...

and...

No...

It is too pretty.

Always put it close,
above the fireplace or somewhere convenient.

- But I can not take it.
- Not even tonight?

I like seeing things cloudy...

And I do not want to impress anyone.

Neither Mr Thackerey nor anyone.

But I do not want to be ungrateful.

It is a wonderful gift, Mr Nicholls.

A wonderful gift.

Mr Thackeray asked you to share his box.

Thank you very much.

You know nothing about life.

Do not you know that passion is arid,
heartbreaking, that mocks law.

You just see the look of things.

The love that blooms only once.

I trample on it in disdain.

Spit on love and vanity.

Holly is friendship.

And until last another winter.

Wherever a humble plant,

and sad

and banal.

Subtitles by Shane Burridge

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