Original subtitles

I'll kick you out of here.

"Arms" by Machado de Assis

You're nothing but a rascal, a bonehead.

Stupid. Lunatic.

Inácio?

Where's your mind at, why don't you listen to what I tell you?

I shall tell everything to your father

so he'll beat the laziness out of your body

with a good quince stick or a rod.

That's just what I'm going to do.

Stupid. Lunatic.

He's the same out there as you see here.

He gets all my papers mixed up.

He mistakes the houses.

He goes to one registrar instead of the other.

He confuses one lawyer with the other. It's hell!

And there's that deep and continuous sleep.

That's what we see every morning.

You need to break his bones before he wakes up.

Let him be.

Tomorrow I shall wake him with broomstick.

Eat!

This went on at Rua da Lapa in 1870.

Eat!

After some minutes nothing more was heard but the jangling of silverware

and chewing noises.

Borges crammed himself with lettuce and beef.

There was never a time when he placed his eyes

upon Dona Severina's arms,

that he didn't forget about himself and everything.

But then, it was Dona Severina's fault most of all,

for always having them bare that way.

He saw only Dona Severina's arms

either because he slyly looked at them

or maybe because they had been imprinted upon his memory.

Inácio lingered with his coffee as much as he could.

Eat!

You'll never finish.

There was no alternative.

Inácio drank the last already cold drop and left, as usual,

to his room in the back of the house.

Five minutes later the view of the near waters

and the faraway mountains

restored upon him that confusing, vague, restless feeling that ached him

and did him good.

He felt the will to leave and the will to stay.

His father is a barber in Cidade Nova and found him the position as an agent,

a clerk or whatever|he was for Borges.

With the hope to someday see him in a forum.

It had been five weeks that he was living there

and life was always the same.

To go out in the morning with Borges.

To rush through hearings and register offices,

carrying papers to the mail,

to the distributer, to the registrars, to the bailiffs.

He came back home late, |ate dinner,

retired to his bedroom and went to sleep.

Five weeks of solitude, of joyless work.

Away from his mother and sisters. Five weeks of silence.

"Let it be", he thought.

"One day I'll run away from here and I won't come back".

He didn't. He felt grasped and chained by Dona Severina's arms.

He had never seen others so pretty and so fresh.

The education he received did not allow him to face them openly at first.

It even seemed that, in the beginning, he averted his eyes, hurried.

He faced them little by little.

It was then he saw they had no more sleeves,

and so, he began to discover, watch and love them.

At the end of three weeks they were, morally speaking,

his resting tents.

He bared the heavy workload from the outside,

all of the melancholy from solitude and silence,

all of his boss's rudeness,

for his only pay was to see, three times a day,

the famous pair of arms.

Dona Severina, in the front room, recapped the dinner episode

and, for the first time, suspected of something.

She rejected the idea right away. He was only a child.

But there are ideas that belong to the family of flies stubborn.

And it doesn't matter how much we shake them off,

they come and land again.

A child? He was fifteen years old.

It's no wonder he would begin to love.

But she was not even pretty.

This other idea was not rejected.

No, it was caressed and kissed.

And so she recalled his manners, forgetfulness, absentmindedness.

And another incident, and yet another.

These were all symptoms,

and she concluded|that it was true.

Severina?

Severina?

What's wrong with you?

You're pale.

What is worrying you? Are you feeling something?

There's nothing wrong with me. I was just resting.

Resting.

It seems like in this house everyone is asleep.

Nevermind.

I know a good medicine to drive sleep away from sleepyheads.

You are mistaken.

I was not sleeping.

I was thinking about Fortunata.

We haven't visited her since Christmas.

Why don't we go over there some night?

Oh, no! God!

I'm tired.|I've been working too much.

She is a chatterbox. I can't stand her!

Don't say such a thing.|The poor woman.

But she does talk.

She talks her head off.

And she slanders, |unlike her husband

who won't say anything because she won't let him.

You are only picking on her, I know she has a good heart.

That's only what you think.

They are paupers! Those people are a lot like our Inácio.

Because now he's "ours", that's my own fault.

Don't say such nasty things.

I don't know why you defend those people so much.

Because we all have faults, my darling.

And I'm here to point them out.

Including ours.

And don't you come and try to silence me.

Don't be angry.

Where is that smile?

Where is it?

Now that you are smiling, let's go eat something.

You've worked so hard.

How about we go to bed earlier?

The night had fallen completely.

Borges, tired out by the day,

for he was truly a worker of the highest order,

went away, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

And he left her alone in the room, in the dark,

just with herself and the discovery she had made.

Everything seemed to tell the lady that it was true,

but this truth, once the feeling of amazement became undone,

brought along a moral complication.

Already on that day, Dona Severina had sideglanced

Inácio's gestures.

She never thought anything of it

because coffee time was so short

and the boy never took his eyes out of his coffee cup.

The next day she could watch him closer.

And in the following days, |optimally,

she noticed that, yes, she was loved and feared.

She had already convinced herself that he was a kid

and decided that she should treat him as dryly as she had until then,

or even more so.

I'm sorry to bother you, Dona Severina.

It was nothing.

He arrived at the house and didn't leave.

Dona Severina's arms closed themselves around him

like a bracket in the middle of the long

and tedious period of the life he led.

And this interleaved sentence brought about a deep and original thought,

created by the heavens exclusively for him.

He would let himself be and keep on walking.

After all, however, |he had to leave.

And never come back again.

Inácio, don't drink cold water after coffee.

It's not good for you.

The rudeness in the voice seemed to be gone

and there was more than just gentleness.

There was unveiling|and tenderness.

Inácio's excitement grew

while he wasn't able to calm himself down or make sense of himself.

He didn't feel well anywhere.

He woke up in the middle of the night thinking about Dona Severina.

In the streets he got the corners mixed up,

he mistook the doors, even more than before.

And he didn't see a woman, from afar or near,

that didn't bring her|back to his mind.

As he walked into the house's hallway, coming from work

he always felt a bustle, sometimes a big one.

Inácio?

Inácio?

Good afternoon, Dona Severina.

Inácio for the first time

felt a fragility in her gaze and he felt stronger.

Hello, good evening.

See what you've done? You are so clumsy.

It's always you.

I'm sorry, Mr. Borges.

Look here,

here in the Forum, you should only call me counselor, you got it?

Counselor.

Pick that up.

Have you delivered the form?

I just did it, counselor.

Just as well.

What about the petition forms, have they been passed out?

All of them, counselor.

Let me see.

You see these three cases here?

This and this other one.

Yes, sure, counselor.

Take them home tonight.

I need to study them, these are very important cases.

Guard them as if they were your own life, you understand?

No doubt about it, counselor.

Then go.

Dunce.

Where is he?

That boy, it'll be the end of him!

Calm down. Please, calm down!

I'll kill that moron.

Look at what he's done. I'll skin him.

Calm down. Would you like a glass of water?

Those cases were under my responsibility.

- Let's try to dry them. - Ruined! Ruined!

I asked him to bring these cases over to the house.

I trusted him.

What if we tried to dry them?

What do I do now?

How am I going to look before the registrars?

Before the lawyers, the judge?

If he shows up in front of me, I'll choke him!

I'll do something crazy.

Calm down. Sit down. Sit down over here.

Rest for a bit.|I'll try to dry them.

If he shows up for dinner, I'll kick him out of here!

What if we tried to dry them?

Certainly he was strolling by the seaside.

He was...

And he let the paper fly out of his hands.

Such a fool!

I'm sorry.

Yes, Dona Severina. I thought that...

Borges is furious at you.

We won't speak loudly so he can't hear us.

I just came to tell you not to show up for dinner until he calms down.

Alright?

Alright.

I'll see what I can do.

It's preferable you only show up for coffee tomorrow.

Be careful.

Sleep well.

Where is he at?

Isn't he going to have coffee?

After all the yelling yesterday, he must be scared.

On top of everything, he's scared.

It's an insult.

After all, I'm Helvécio's friend.

He's been my barber for years, I own him some sort of explanation.

You know what?

I'm going to get him.

Oh, are you there?

I thought you wouldn't come. Sit down!

Excuse me.

Listen closely.

About the seaside incident,

it will never be mentioned again under penalty of me choking you.

Dona Severina felt proud,

for she had saved Inácio from Borge's clutches.

Inácio, please, bring over that watering can.

And so she kept on, enjoying Inácio's sweet presence by her side.

And so, one Sunday...

Never did he forget that Sunday.

It was a gorgeous day.

It was not just any christian Sunday,

it was a huge Sunday, |universal.

Inácio spent the rest of the day there in his room,

rereading some leaflets he had brought along,

tales of other times.

He never could understand why all heroines from these old stories

had the same face and shape as Dona Severina.

But the truth is that they did.

After half an hour, he dropped the leaflet

and turned his eyes to the wall.

From where, five minutes later, the lady he desired came out of.

It would be only natural|to be amazed,

but he was not.

Although his eyelids|were closed,

he saw her come forth entirely.

Indeed it was her. Those were the same arms.

But surely, however, Dona Severina could not come out from the wall,

as she was precisely in the front room,

listening to the solicitor's steps coming down the stairs.

Suddenly, she remembered that Inácio had eaten very little during lunch

and looked somewhat dispirited.

And she thought that maybe he was sick.

It was even possible that he was very ill.

Dona Severina felt her heart beat strongly

and she stepped back.

"A child", she said to herself,

in that wordless language we all carry within us.

It seems that sleep gave Inácio's adolescence

a more accentuated expression,

almost feminine, almost puerile.

She dreamed about him at night.

Or maybe he was dreaming about her.

Since dawn the young man's figure walked before her eyes,

like a diabolical temptation.

She was tired of seeing him with his head tilted,

an arm hanging.

But, while she thought|he was a child,

she also thought|he was handsome.

Far more handsome than when he was awake.

And one of these ideas would correct or corrupt the other.

She slowly came back and peeked at him.

She saw he was sleeping soundly.

He had a heavy sleep, the child.

The noise that had disrupted her

so did not even make him change positions.

And she kept watching him sleep.

Sleep and maybe dream.

May we never be able to watch each other's dreams!

Dona Severina would have seen herself in the boy's imagination.

She would have seen herself before the bed,

smiling and standing still. Then, she'd lean over.

She'd hold his hands, bring them to her chest,

crossing there her arms, the famous arms.

Two, three, four times, the figure disappeared.

Only to soon return,

coming from the sea or some other place.

And, once again, she leaned in, once again held his hands

and crossed at her chest the arms.

Until, leaning even further, much further, clasped her lips

and left him a kiss in the mouth.

Here, the dream coincided with reality

and those same mouths|became united

within imagination|and outside of it.

The difference is that the vision did not back down,

while the real person, as soon as it accomplished the gesture,

nearly ran for the door, closed out and frightened.

Truly the child was a deep sleeper.

Nothing could open his eyes, neither the restrained failures

nor real kisses.

But if fear went away, the shame stayed and grew.

Dona Severina could not believe she had done that.

Be that as it may, |she was confused,

irritated, annoyed, feeling bad about herself and him.

The fear that he may be pretending to be asleep

creeped into her soul and gave her a chill.

But the truth is that he still slept for long,

and only woke up for dinner.

Who said that I forgot?

Just today I was with Barreto...

He sat cheerfully at the table.

As much as he thought Dona Severina was quiet and stern,

and that Borges was just as harsh as in the other days,

neither one's harshness, or the other's sternness,

could dispel from him the gracious vision,

that he still carried within him, or deaden the feeling of the kiss.

He did not notice that Dona Severina wore a shawl that covered her arms.

He noticed it later, on Monday.

- Would you like a piece of cheese? - Please.

And Tuesday too.

And even Saturday,

which was the day Borges told him to tell his father

he couldn't keep him.

If you need me for anything,

look for me.

Yes, sir.

What about ma'am Dona Severina?

She's in the room, she has a terrible headache.

Tomorrow or after, you come to say goodbye.

Inácio left without understand anything.

He could not understand the farewell,

the total change in Dona Severina.

It didn't matter.

He carried within him the taste from the dream.

And throughout the years, through other loves,

more effective and long,

he found no feeling like the one on that Sunday,

at Rua da Lapa, when he was 15 years old.

He himself would exclaim, |sometimes,

not knowing he fooled himself:

"It was a dream, only a dream".

The End

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