Tess - English Transcript

- Good night. - Good night, Sir John. Begging your pardon, sir. We met on this selfsame road the other day... ...and I said, "Good night," and you replied, "Good night, Sir John." I may have. - Did so again today. - So I did. Why call me "Sir John" when I be plain Jack Durbeyfield, the haggler? Just a whim of mine. I'm Parson Tringham by the way. I made a discovery about you while tracing some family trees... ...for our new county history. I'm an antiquarian, you know. You, Durbeyfield, are directly descended... ...from the knightly house of the d'Urbervilles. - Did you really not know that? - Never heard it before, sir. Raise your head a little so that I can see your face from the side. Yes, that's the d'Urberville nose and chin. - A trifle coarser than of old, but still. - Daze my eyes. According to the records, your line goes back to Sir Pagan d'Urberville... ...who came from Normandy with William the Conqueror. I've been slaving away and living rough all these years? Well, I thought you might already know something about it. It is true, I got an old silver spoon at home and a graven seal... ...but I never paid them much heed. Where do we d'Urbervilles live today? You don't live anywhere. You lie buried in your family vault at Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill... ...laid out in lead coffins with your effigies under marble canopies. - And where be our family mansions? - You haven't any. No land neither? None at all? You had an abundance of land in the old days. What can I do about it, sir? Well, as to that... - Can I do nothing? - Nothing whatever... ...save possibly chasten yourself by thinking: "How are the mighty fallen." Good night... ...Sir John. Won't you take a quart of beer with me, sir? There's a grand brew to be had at The Pure Drop. Though not so good as at Rolliver's. Sir John d'Urberville. That's who I am. What is this? - It is our club dance, sir. - Club dance? - But where are your partners? - They've not finished work yet. They'll be here by and by. - Will you join us till then, sir? - With pleasure... ...but one partner won't go far among so many. One's better than none. It is sad work a-footing it with no one to give you a squeeze. Don't be so forward. - What are you doing? - I've a mind to enjoy myself. Come on. You're full of nonsense. Suppose someone sees us. All right, go on. Don't wait for me. I'll catch you up in five minutes. Sir? Hey, hey, hey, sir? Hey, sir? Life has found me a great gentleman. - Noblest in the county! - Lord, oh, Lord. If it isn't your father riding home in his cart. There bain't be a man in the whole of Wessex with finer skeletons than I! Father's tired, that's all. He sent for the cart because our own horse died. You know that very well. Rows and rows of knightly ancestors, I got. Bain't be a man in the whole of Wessex with finer skeletons than I. I'm glad you've come. Where are you off to? I thought I'd change and help you. You bide here. I want to tell you what's happened. We've been found to be the greatest gentlefolk in the county... ...reaching back long before Oliver Crumble's time... ...back to the days of the pagan Turks. With monuments and vaults... ...and crests and coats of arms, and the Lord knows what all! Is that why Father made such a mommet of himself in that cart? Our true name is d'Urberville. That's why he came home in style, not because he'd been drinking. Where is he now? It was a parson told him the pedigree of the matter. - But where is he now? - Well, to tell you the truth... ...he was that upset, he's gone off to Rolliver's to get up his strength. Much strength he'll find at the bottom of a pint pot. Very well, I'll go and get him. We'll be back afore you know it. Now, look, be a good girl and put the little ones to bed for me. There it is. That? That spoon may be small, but my family was great. - Jack, I've got a project. - We owned carriages, estates... ...and mansions without number. - Listen to me. Is there any money in it? It is well to be kin to a coach, even if you don't ride in one. I've been thinking since you brought me the news. - I've got a project. - Which reminds me, woman. You better find that dang seal of ours, or I'll do you a mischief. Listen. There's a great lady by the name of d'Urberville... ...living out by Trantridge. Well, she's nothing compared with us. Younger branch of the family, no doubt. I'll wager they don't go back to King Norman's day. That's as may be, but she's rich. Lot of good her money will do us. It could do. We must send our Tess to claim kin. - Claim kin? - Why shouldn't two branches... ...of the same family be on visiting terms? It would certainly put her in the way of a grand marriage. Then she ought to go there tomorrow. Let's drink to that. Mrs. Rolliver! There you are, my poppet. We was just on our way. But you're asking me to go begging. Begging. What are you saying? It is all in the family. If they was in need, I should take them in without a word. We all have to take the ups with the downs, Tess. Now, you must go and see her... ...and ask her for some help in our trouble. If the lady received me at all, it would be enough if she were friendly. You must not expect her to help us. Come, come, my dear. With your pretty face, you could coax her into anything. I'd rather try to get work. Durbeyfield, you decide. If you say she must go, she'll go. Well, girl, do you want to go visiting this grand kinswoman of ours? - I'd much sooner not, Father. - There, she doesn't want to! I don't like my children making themselves beholden with strange kin. I'm the head of the noblest branch of the family... ...and I got my pride to think of. All this bragging about your ancestors. It isn't them as will buy us a new horse. It's all new. Well, my beauty... ...what can I do for you? - I came to see Mrs. D'Urberville. - I'm afraid that's impossible. She's an invalid. What was your business with her? I'm her son. It wasn't business, it was... I can hardly say what. - Not business, sir, no. - Pleasure, then? No, sir. It is so very foolish, I... - I fear I can't tell you. - Never mind. I like foolish things. Try again, dear. I came, sir, to tell you that... ...we are of the same family as you. Poor relations? - Yes. - Stokes? No, d'Urbervilles. Yes, yes, I meant d'Urbervilles. Tell me... ...do you like strawberries? - Yes, when they're in season. - Here, they already are. Our name has become Durbeyfield... ...but we have several proofs that we're d'Urbervilles. That's who the antiquarians hold we are, so Mother said... ...we should make ourselves beknown to you... ...as we've lost our horse... ...and we are the oldest branch of the family. I see. So you've come to pay me a courtesy call, really... ...as one relation to another. - I suppose I have. - Yes. Well, there's no harm in that. I would rather take it from my own hand. Don't be so coy, my pretty cousin. There. Come, this one too. It's the perfect place. Believe me. You'll look a regular posy! - What's the matter? - A thorn. Cousin, beauty has its price. I'm not very hungry. Truly, I'm not. Nonsense. You must eat something before you go. It's no mean ride from here to your village. I shall see what I can do for you. But listen, Tess, no more of this d'Urberville nonsense. Plain Durbeyfield, understand? It's quite a different name. I wish for no better, sir. "In reference to your daughter and further to her visit... ...we write to inform you of our willingness... ...to consider engaging her services... ...in the managing of a poultry farm of modern character. Lf, after a suitable period, your daughter... ...proves satisfactory, we should guarantee her... ...comfortable accommodation and a good wage. Your earliest reply would be greatly appreciated." So you charmed them after all, did you? Let me see that letter. - Who wrote it? - Who? Mrs. D'Urberville, of course. Look at the signature. Me? Manage a poultry farm? - I truly don't think I should go. - Poultry. It is just her way of getting you there without raising your hopes too much. She's going to own you as kin. Hey! The seal! This is it! It's the same as ours. Look at it, lad. A ramping, great, big lion with a castle on top. There's no denying it, girl. Mrs. D'Urberville recognized her own flesh and blood. But she never even saw me. Well, you couldn't expect her to throw her arms round your neck... ...her being an invalid. But her son made you welcome. He called you "cousin," didn't he? I'd rather bide here with you. Goodbye, Father. - You're off, then? - Yes. Goodbye, Father. Goodbye, girl. You're a comely sight. This young cousin of yours... ...tell him that, being so come down in the world... ...I'll sell him the title. Yes, I'll sell it, but a fair price. Not less than a thousand pounds, mind. That's right, tell him I'll take a thousand pounds. Well, now I come to think on it... ...he can have it for a hundred. I won't stand on trifles. Fifty. Twenty pounds, tell him, and not a penny less. - Family honor is family honor. - Come, it's time to go. I want to walk a little ways with Tess. So do I, now she's leaving to marry our gentleman cousin. I'll hear no more of that. Mother, how could you have put such nonsense into their heads? She's going to work for a rich relation, my dears... ...and help us earn enough money to get a new horse. Oh, Mother, I wish our Tess hadn't gone to be a lady. Don't hold my arm! Grab me round the waist! Ungrateful little minx. Why abandon me as soon as you feel safe? The danger came of your foolishness. I say, what a temper. When people are on top of a hill, they have to get down somehow. But not at a gallop, surely. Fancy being asked that by a brave little beauty like you. I always go downhill at a gallop. You can't beat it for stirring the blood. But perhaps you needn't do so again. Perhaps not. It all depends. One little kiss on those ruby lips or even on that satin cheek... ...and I drive at a snail's pace, word of honor. But I don't want to be kissed, sir. Stop, stop, I beg you! Very well, do as you wish. I don't mind. But I thought you'd protect me, being a kinsman. Kinsman be hanged. You're mighty sensitive for a village lass. - Oh, my hat! - Whoa, boy. You look even prettier without it! - Come along, now. Up you get. - No, sir. - You won't ride with me? - No, I shall walk. It's four miles to Trantridge, at least. I wouldn't care if it were 20. You watch out for Dollop, the bailiff. He's a devil. Not Mr. Alec. Spends half his time on horseback... ...and the rest of it chasing the likes of us. His mother's a *** old soul, but no real trouble. It is a mercy for us she's blind. - Mrs. D'Urberville's blind? - Stone-blind. Their real name is Stoke. How's that? It were Mr. Alec's father had the notion. He bought the name of an old extinguished family... ...to make himself important. Whatever are you doing? Missus is waiting for her birds. Quick, it slipped my mind entirely. Now, you catch hold of Phena there... ...and that one. That one there and the white one. So you are the new young woman. Well, how are my birds? This is Strut. He doesn't seem so lively today, does he? He's alarmed at being handled by a stranger, I suppose. And Phena? Yes, yes. They are a little frightened. Aren't you, my poor dears? Never mind. They'll soon get used to you. Can you whistle? Whistle, ma'am? Yes, whistle tunes. A little. Then you will have to practice every day. I think a lot of my fowls, but there are also my bullfinches to consider. I had a young lad who whistled to them very well, but he left. They've been neglected for days. Master Alec whistled to them this morning, ma'am. Him. Nor art nor nature ever created a lovelier thing than you, Cousin Tess. To see that pretty mouth pouting and puffing away... ...without producing a single note. - It is all a part of my work, sir. - Never mind. I'll teach you. I won't lay a finger on you. See? I'll stay exactly where I am. Now you watch me. Don't screw up your lips too tight. Do it like this. Blow gently. Gently. Try. No, no. Try again. Again. There. You'll manage splendidly now I've started you off. Tell me, Tess, don't you find my mother a little odd? I hardly know her, sir. Well, I'm not in her good books at the moment. But you should find favor if you treat her livestock well. If you meet with any difficulties... ...don't go to Dollop... ...come to me. What? Don't you fancy a dance, then? I'm mortal tired. - When are you all going home? - Soon enough, soon enough. Well, my beauty. What are you doing here this time of night? I'm waiting for the others, sir... ...not being acquainted with the road home. I only have a saddle horse. Come to the inn with me. I'll hire a trap for us both. No, no. Thank you, but I promised to wait for them. Very well. Silly girl. Please yourself. What's that creeping down your back? Well, I declare! It is treacle! - You dare laugh at me, you ***. - I can't help it. No more than the others. You think you're the queen of Trantridge... ...just because you're first favorite with him. She never said anything. Leave her. I'll show you. I'm worth two of your sort for all your airs and graces. If I'd known what sort you were... ...I'd never have lowered myself by accepting your company. - I'll show you. - Hey there, workfolk. What's all the row about? Quickly, jump up beside me. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. - Where are we? - Passing through The Chase. The Chase? It is out of our way, surely. This forest is one of the oldest and loveliest in England, Tess. Don't you think it deserves to be seen... ...on a glorious God-given night like this? Yes, but... No buts. There's a good girl. I'll be honest with you. I'm happy. I'm trying to prolong the moment. You were shivering a while back. Now I can feel your warmth against me. - Are you still cold? - No, not now. I'll let my animal walk a little further. He'll make better progress once he's rested. Tell me... ...what news of your parents' horse? - They have no horse. They have since Monday last. - Did you? - Forgive me for mentioning it. I thought they would have written to you. - I don't know what to say. - It's nothing. I knew how important it was for your father to have a new horse. Really. It's you he should thank. I'm grateful to you. Truly I am. But I almost wish you hadn't done this. Yes, I almost do. - Is that a reproach? - Oh, no. It is very kind of you, I'm sure. I've been in torment ever since you came to us. - Then I'll leave tomorrow, sir. - That's absurd. I don't want you to leave. That's the last thing I want. Is there no hope for me? None at all? Tess. I'm dying for you. Can't you see? Forgive me. Oh, please forgive me. - Are you hurt? - No, it's nothing. Nothing. You're bleeding. Oh, my God. How ever could I have done such a thing? It's me. Don't be so foolish. Open the door. You'll force me to make a noise, Tess. My mother has sharp ears. She'll hear. Enough of this nonsense, darling. Open up. Why sneak away... ...like a thief? And at this hour in the morning? Nobody would've prevented you leaving. At least let me drive you home. Unless you'd care to come back. I shan't come back. - What are you crying for? - I was only thinking... ...I was born over there. Well, we all have to be born somewhere. L... I wish I'd never been born. - There or anywhere else. - You're absurdly melancholy, Tess. You can hold your own for beauty against any woman. Queen or commoner. I tell you that as a practical man who wishes you well. If you're wise, you'll let the world get a clearer sight of that beauty... ...before it fades. Why not make the most of life? We didn't fare so badly together, did we? - I was blinded for a while, that's all. - That's what all women say. How dare you talk like that? Has it never struck you what all women say, some women may feel? - All right. I was wrong, I admit it. - Please, please stop. I should like to get down here. I'm a bad lot, I suppose. A damn bad lot. I was born bad, and I warrant I'll die bad. Listen, Tess... ...if circumstances should arise, do you understand? If you're ever in the least trouble, the least difficulty... ...just send me one line, and you shall have whatever you need by return. You really won't come back? Goodbye, my four months' cousin. Goodbye. Tess? It is no use her pretending she hates it... ...and wishes it in the churchyard and herself beside it. She loves that child of hers. Poor little mite. It don't look long for this world. Good evening, Durbeyfield. - What's your business? - My business? The child. I must baptize it before the Lord gathers it to his ***. What child are you speaking of? All my children are baptized. You ought to know. Durbeyfield, don't play games with the Almighty. I don't play, sir, I work! I work! Like a beast of the field. You can tell the Almighty that from me. - My baby's dying. - You ought to have been more careful. Like it or not, Jack, that child was born. It is here, under your own roof. - Not true. - Father, come to your senses. For pity's sake, let the vicar in! He shan't set foot inside this house. Not over my dead body! There's enough disgrace on my name as it is. O merciful God, take pity. Take pity on him. Send down your anger on me. But have mercy on my child. My child. I should like to ask you something, sir. Well, speak, girl. I'm listening. Each of us shares in your sad affliction, my child. We're all members of the suffering body of Christ. My son was baptized. Baptized? By whom? By me, last night. What procedure did you follow? I woke my little brothers and sisters... ...and made them kneel down to pray. 'Liza-Lu held the prayer book open. I lit a candle. And then? Then I held my child like this over the basin. Yes. I poured some water on his forehead, and I said: "I baptize thee... ...in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost." - Did you make the sign of the cross? - Yes, I did that too. Will it be just the same as if you'd baptized him? In the sight of God, I mean. Yes, my dear girl. It will be the same. Then you'll give him a Christian burial? That's another matter. Another matter? Why? Well, that would concern the village as a whole. Not just the two of us, you understand. Won't you do it, sir? Just this once? I'm sorry. I beg you, please. I told you. It's out of the question. Then I don't like you. I shall never come to your church again. Never. Never! - Hey, Mr. Crick. - Eh? What, here already? We didn't expect you afore tomorrow. It is quite a step from here to Weatherbury. - Marlott, sir. I come from Marlott. - Yes, Marlott. Well, that's even further. Quite sure you can stand it here? It is comfortable enough for rough folk... ...but we don't live in a cowcumber frame. I'm accustomed to that. I used to know your part of the county when I were a lad. Good. Right you are. Well, you'll want a rest and a morsel of food. I'd rather begin now, to get my hand in. Oh, come on. You must be famished. No, thank you. A little milk will suffice. Well, if you can swallow that, so be it. It is what I hain't touched for years. It lies in my innards like lead. To my thinking, the beasts aren't giving all they should. That's because there's a new hand come amongst us. I've known it happen afore. They do say that the milk goes up into their horns at such times. Anyone would think we were back in the Middle Ages. I don't appear to be making much progress. Take it gentle, sir. Take it gentle. Whoa, now. - It is skill that does it, not strength. - So my aching fingers tell me. Mrs. Crick's too proud to come milking with us, and that's a fact. Still, there's little enough to wherrit about. And we do eat like gamecocks. No, you'll like it here. Mr. Crick, he's a very kindly man. Just fancy. He has his own family pew in church. {Y: I}Dairyman *** all the week On Sundays, Mr. Richard Crick Who's that playing? Mr. Clare. Mr. Clare. Him that's learning to milk. Angel Clare, he's called. Angel. It is no common name. He never says much to us, more's the pity. Why? Does he scorn common folk? Quite the opposite. He often makes mock of old families. It is quite simple. He's a parson's son with a mind to be a farmer. He's already tried his hand at sheep farming. Now he's learning dairy work with Mr. Crick. But what does he hold against old families? He says they're... ...worm-eaten. That be your soul trying to escape. It is bread, that's all. No, it is when you sneeze, you're like to blow your soul away. As I see it, no soul can leave its mortal shell afore a body dies. What if a man falls down in a faint, Master Crick? Well, that's a different matter. The spirit bides there inside you, but you cannot feel it. But we can sometimes make our souls leave our bodies. How's that, then, maidy? Only have to lie on the grass at night... ...and look straight up at some bright star. And stare at it with all your might. And by and by, you'll feel you're falling into the sky... ...miles and miles from your body... ...which you'll don't seem to need at all. Tess! Why run away like that? - Are you afraid? - No, sir. Not of outdoor things. No. - But you have your indoor fears, eh? - Heavens, yes. Of what? I couldn't rightly say. Of the milk turning sour? No. Fear of life, in general? Yes, sir. So have I. Very often. Life's a puzzle. Don't you think? Perhaps... ...now you put it that way. It is no use. It won't take. If this continues, I shall have to call on Conjurer Trendle. I don't say I believe in him, mind. But if nothing else works, I shall have to try it, shan't I? Somebody here's in love, I'll be bound. That can cause it, so I've heard. Conjurer Fall, to the side of Casterbridge. He had the knack of it when I was a lad. It is a pity. He must be feeding the worms by now. My grandpa used to go to Conjurer Mynterne out at Owlscombe. But there's no folk like him these days. Somebody's in love, I tell you. - What's the matter? - The blasted butter won't come. - Why is that? - To my mind... How warm it is today. I think I'd be better out-of-doors. They do say it happens when people are in love. I remember as a girl... Don't push. He looks so sad. Whatever can he be thinking of? Well, not of us. You can rely on that. You're a fine one to talk, Izz. - I saw you. - What did you see? It was the other day. I saw you kissing his shadow. Here he comes again. Dear eyes... Dear face... Dear Mr. Clare. It is terrible to think he'll never wed any one of us. More likely, he'll ask us to milk his cows for so much a year. What are we going to do? We shall have to take the stone-bridge road. We'll be late. - Doesn't he go to church? - No, never. I wish he would. You look like cats afraid of water. Only on account of our Sunday best, sir. Very well. I'll carry you just as you are. No, no, I'm far too heavy. Nonsense. I could carry all four of you at once. Hold on to me. That's it. I should put my arms around his neck and look into his eyes. There's nothing in that. There's a time for everything under heaven. A time to kiss and a time to cuddle. Shame on you, Izz. That's scripture. I always heed the prettiest verses in church. If you helped me, perhaps I could climb along the bank. Tess. I've gone to three-quarters of this trouble for your sake alone. She's angry. She doesn't understand. She'll kick over the bucket. Forgive me, my darling Tess. I don't know what came over me. There's only one excuse for it. I love you. Yes, I love you. Angel? Angel. Hello, Mercy. Forgive me. I didn't see you. Forgive me. Welcome home. - How are you? - Very well. God be praised. You look radiant with health, I see. The open air, probably. Have you come to spend the holidays with your brothers? Are they here? I had no idea. No, I'm only paying my parents a brief visit to settle some urgent business. Then I won't detain you. I have my Bible class to take, in any case. {Y: I}Au revoir, Angel. - Angel! - Angel! My boy. I apologize, Father. I had no time to warn you of my arrival. Perhaps you've forgotten how to write. With a pen, remember? I brought you farmhouse delicacies. Black puddings and a bottle of mead. Black puddings? It's true your mother and I have regretted... ...hearing so little of your news. You must bear with him, Father. Spending all his time with sheep and cattle... ...takes one closer to nature but further from Oxford. I would remind you, Felix... ...that a university education means nothing... ...unless it redounds to the glory of God. It can also redound to the glory of man. Only in the second place. How far are you in your apprenticeship? It's drawing to a close. What counts is spiritual cleanliness. Isn't that so, Father? The two go together, my boy. Father tells us you intend setting up on your own. Yes. - In what part of the world? - I don't know yet. The colonies perhaps. Heaven preserve us. It would suit the type of farming I have in mind. - What colony? - The choice is wide. Or I may settle in a foreign country. Some places offer land to immigrants on very favorable terms. Brazil, for example. Wonders will never cease. Nothing's settled yet. I came here to discuss it. That among other things. Shall we take a drop of good Mrs. Crick's delicious mead? Oh, forgive me, I forgot. Strong drink is the root of all evil. Take us into your confidence. - Is it something serious? - Not serious, but important. The truth is... ...don't you think it's time I considered marrying? Yes, indeed, my boy. Yes, indeed. Your mother and I have debated the same question. Really? And what sort of wife would you favor... ...for a budding farmer like myself? - A truly Christian, God-fearing woman. One who will be a help and a comfort to you in all things. - The rest matters little. - You mustn't hesitate, dear son. Not hesitate? To marry your heart's desire: Mercy Chant. She may be rather fond of overdecorating a church... ...with fripperies, flowers, scraps of lace and so forth... ...but that's merely a girlish fancy. It'll pass. Mercy is a pure and virtuous girl. Oh, yes. I know she's pure and virtuous. But honesty compels me to inform you that I have other plans. - Other plans? - Very much so. Mercy Chant appeals more to you than she does to me. I'm not disputing her merits. I'm speaking of my own inclinations. My dearest boy! Angel, please remember you're addressing your parents. I'm aware of that. I already know the woman I intend to marry. Her name is Teresa Durbeyfield. Father, Mother, I respect you both. I also respect Mercy Chant and have no doubt... ...she'll find a worthy husband with or without your help. As for me... ...my mind's made up. - It is you. - Tess. I want to ask you this now. Will you be my wife? I love you with all my heart and soul. But what's the matter? I... I cannot... I cannot be your wife. - Don't you love me? - Oh, yes. Yes. I would rather belong to you than to anyone in the world. But forgive me. I cannot marry you. {Y: I}It was the good Lord who put this nice young parson's son your way. {Y: I}You must believe that. {Y: I}But with respect to your question... {Y: I}... I tell you quite private but very strong... {Y: I}... on no account say a word about your bygone trouble. {Y: I}Never a word, my girl, least of all to him. Mother, Mother... Tess, why does the idea of becoming my wife... ...displease you? - But I never said that. It would please me so much. - It is simply that I cannot. - Why? Is there someone else? Don't I deserve to know the truth? - Well? - Not now. - When, then? - Later. But why? I'll tell you when we get home. You may stop loving me when you know. Let me wait till then. Londoners will drink it at their breakfasts tomorrow, won't they? Yes, but watered down, in case it goes to their heads. Strangers we've never seen... You saw me once before, you know that? I did? You wouldn't dance with me. - It was at Marlott. - Of course. - That's incredible. - You remember now? Tessy, Tessy... - Now, my girl. - Yes. I may never again be brave enough to tell you my story. Then get on with your precious story. I was born at such and such a place in such and such a year... I was born at Marlott... ...and I grew up there. I was in the sixth form when I left school. They said I would make a good teacher. But there was trouble in my family. Father was no great worker. He drank, and I... My parents, they... It was then that something happened. Something which changed my life. I... They... They discovered that we were not Durbeyfields... ...but d'Urbervilles. Well, go on. Well, that's it. What? Well, the d'Urbervilles are an old family. I know. On account of... ...being of that name, my mother thought that... We were sent... - I had a... - A what? I was told you hated old families. And is that all the trouble? None of that matters, Tess. Say you'll be my wife. Say it, Tess. Say it, my dear love. Yes, yes, yes. {Y: I}My youth... {Y: I}... my simplicity... {Y: I}... and the strangeness of my situation... {Y: I}... may perhaps lessen my fault. {Y: I}But since I committed it... {Y: I}... I am guilty. {Y: I}I must be guilty... {Y: I}... because the Lord saw fit to take my child. {Y: I}lf what I have just written... {Y: I}... failed to pass my lips in your presence... {Y: I}... when I had repeated it a thousand times in my heart... {Y: I}... it was for fear of losing you forever. {Y: I}For love of you... {Y: I}... I shall conquer that fear and bring you this letter. {Y: I}Once you receive it, Angel... {Y: I}... you will hold the rest of my life in your hands. {Y: I}I hope... {Y: I}... I tremble... {Y: I}... I love you. Tess. Darling. Happiness seems to put an edge on my appetite. I'm starving. Oh, look! They're coming! Faster, faster, Mrs. Crick! They'll beat us to the church! Angel! Angel, please, I must speak to you. What's the matter? I want to confess all my past faults. All of it! Later, sweetheart. Once we're married we'll tell each other everything. I have some failings of my own to confess. I require and charge you both... ...as you will have to answer at that dreadful Day of Judgment... ...where the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed. That if either of you know any impediment... ...why you may not be lawfully joined in matrimony... ...ye do now confess it. Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife... ...to live together after God's just ordinance... ...in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her... ...in sickness and in health and forsaking all other... ...keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live? I will. Welcome, sir. Welcome, ma'am. Mr. Plunkett told me to make you at home. The rooms you rented are on the first floor... ...but Mr. Plunkett had to leave for Manchester... ...so you'll have the whole house to yourselves. You'll find it very comfortable here. The house is inclined to be damp. But I lit a good fire in the drawing room early this afternoon. As for food, look, I've prepared you a cold supper. And there's a nice bottle of wine to go with it. Tomorrow, if you wish... ...I'll bring you some of my husband's excellent cider. He makes it himself. The usual offices. Your bedroom. A little surprise, ma'am. I took the liberty. My son picked it in the woods. It's a good bed. I think you'll find it to your liking. And now I'll leave you to yourselves. Cheerio. Which are my hands, and which are yours? They're all yours. Open it. It's for you. Family jewels. - Are they for me? - But of course. Truly? Put them on. Put them on now. My God, how beautiful you are. Come and see. I have a confession to make, my love. - You have something to confess? - Why not? You think far too highly of me. Listen. I want you to forgive me... ...and not be angry with me for failing to tell you earlier. I said nothing for fear of losing you. I shall be brief, darling. Not long before we met... ...I lived in London for a time. There... ...I met a woman older than myself. Ours was a false relationship. A sad one. It was all over in a few weeks. That's all there is to tell. Do you forgive me? Angel... You're so utterly good and gentle. I was mad to fear your resentment. I have a confession too, Angel. Something of the same kind. Tell me at table. We'll talk over supper. I'm hungry, aren't you? I told you... ...I have a confession like your own. What confession? I shall be just as brief. His name is d'Urberville. Like mine. Alexander d'Urberville. His family bought the title. Their real name is Stoke. It was fate that drove me to work... ...for false relations as a way of helping my own folk to live. Alec... Alexander... ...took advantage of me... ...relying on his strength and my fear. I became his mistress in despair. Without love. Like yours... ...my sad union ended after a few weeks. I bore a child... ...which died very young. My life was in ruins till the day I met you. I'm going out. You don't forgive me? - I forgive you, Angel. - Yes, I know. But you... You don't forgive me? You were one person. Now you're another. Have mercy. - Angel? - Have mercy. Angel, what do you mean by that laugh? How can you speak to me like this? It frightens me. - How can you? - You are not the woman I loved. - Well, who am I, then? - Another woman in her shape. He says... He says I'm not the woman he loved... ...but another woman in her shape. Angel! Angel, please. I was a child... ...a child when it happened. I knew nothing of men. You were sinned against. That I grant you. - So you don't forgive me. - I forgive you. But forgiveness isn't all. Nor love me? I cannot help associating your lack of firmness... ...with the decline of your family. Decrepit families imply deficient willpower and decadent conduct. I thought you were a child of nature. But you were the last in a line of degenerate aristocrats. Breakfast is ready. You can get rid of me. What did you say? You can get rid of me. By divorcing me. Good God. How can you be so simple? You're too much of a child, too immature. Too ignorant, I suppose. Leave that! You're my wife, not my servant. I'm your wife... ...but you don't want to live with me. You mean to go, don't you? I couldn't stay without despising myself. And what is worse, without despising you. How can we live together while that man exists? He is your natural husband... ...not I. Can you honestly tell me to stay? No. But it's absolutely necessary that one of us remain here... ...to avoid a scandal. We must at least keep up appearances. Oh, yes, we must. But what will you do? - I can go home. - Are you sure? Yes. If you leave me, I shall go home. Then so be it. - Cross-in-Hand, sir. - Yes, I know. Come. Now, let's be clear about this. There's no anger in our hearts, even though something happened... ...between us which I cannot endure at present. I shall let you know where I go, and if I think I can bear it... ...if I'm capable of it, I shall come to fetch you. I shall wait. Until then, you'd do better not to try and join me. Until then, I must not join you. Just so. - May I write to you? - Oh, yes. If you're ill or in need of anything. A very good day to you, Mr. Clare! I've brought you some groceries. There's a chicken, some sausages, some bacon. - Thank you so much. - I've put in some butter... ...some flour, eggs... - That's too much. Newlyweds are always hungry, sir. From tonight onwards, I shall cook for you myself. The truth is, you see, for some time, I shall be needing less. Because, in fact, I shall be alone for a day or two. My wife has been obliged to rejoin her parents. Mercy on us. Is there an illness in the family? Nothing of that kind. It was arranged beforehand. So as far as my meals are concerned during Mrs. Clare's absence... ...I'll talk to you later. - Shall I leave the basket? Indeed, the basket will do for today. Many thanks. I was passing on my way home, sir. I only wanted to wish you well. You and Mrs. Clare. She's not here. I'm on the point of leaving myself, as you see. I'm leaving England. I've made up my mind to go to Brazil. - Brazil? - Yes. Well, then please tell Mrs. Clare I hope the journey agrees with her. She's not going at present. I'll go on to get the measure of the place... ...and see what life there is like. - How is Retty? - Oh, as high-strung as ever. - And Marian? - Marian's taken to drink, sir. - Really? - Yes. Mr. Crick has got rid of her. And you, Izz, are you well? With you gone, sir, how could I be? There, it is said. Goodbye, sir. Goodbye, Izz. Izz! If I were to ask you to come with me now... ...come to Brazil with me... ...would your answer be yes? To come with you, I should leave everything this minute. You know what it would mean in the eyes of society? I wouldn't care. Do you love me so much? I've... I've always loved you. More than Tess? No. Not more than her. Nobody could have loved you more than Tess. She'd have given her life for you. I could do no more. All is vanity. - Good night, my pretty. - Night, sir. It is late for a maid to be roaming the lanes by herself. Have you lost your way, then? Step up here beside me, and I'll take you part of the road. Why, you can scarce put one foot afore the other. Ride with me, I say. But I know you. You be Mr. Stoke d'Urberville's fancy woman! You weren't too proud to *** a leg for him, eh? Trollop! If it isn't my little Tess! Poor poppet, what a state you're in. You're so cold. Here. Get that inside you. It will warm your bones. Go on, my love, drink it. Get along. You mustn't let yourself go. Even bad luck runs out in the end. Take my word for it. I can't go on. You'll feel better tomorrow. Oh, no, I can't go on. I'd like... If I had the courage, I'd like to die. Don't talk such flummery. Why didn't you come to see me sooner? I'm going to take you in hand, my girl. - Do they still have work here? - In this wretched place? There's always work here for them as can abide it. Come. You have some of my nice soup. After that... ...you must take off those slummocky clothes and prettify yourself... ...just to make me jealous again. My little Tessy. Are you the new hand? It is you, is it? Be they all you've done? It is a mighty poor show. - She's not accustomed to it. - I don't keep useless hands here. We're only paid for what we do, so where's the difference? No arguments. I want the whole lot cleared. I'll stay late. You'd better. Never you mind that Groby. It is just his way. No, Lord love us. It is not like it was at the dairy. {Y: I}Dairyman *** all the week {Y: I}On Sundays, Mr. Richard Crick It don't do to pray here, missy. There be a curse on this place. - This is the Cross-in-Hand, isn't it? - So it is. On account of a malefactor they tortured here in ancient times. They did nail his hand to a post, and then they hanged him. The sinner's bones be down there to this day, I'm told. Oh, my dear. What do you think of these kind people? Tuesday. Delighted. - Goodbye. - Till evening. What? What are you finding? An old pair of boots. Are there two of them? - Yes. - Well, how extraordinary. Still in good condition. It's wicked to throw away a good pair of boots like that. They could be of use to the poor. - You must take them home with you. - I will. - They're a little muddy. - Yes. Sir. Over there. Mr. Groby. I knew nothing of your circumstances. Nothing at all until your mother wrote me. - My mother? - She wrote... ...what you should have told me a long time ago. I came at once. I'm offering you my help, sincerely. No one else seems to care. Who is this husband of yours anyway? - How could he abandon you like this? - Please leave me alone! Tess! There's a point beyond which obstinacy becomes stupidity. Are you in love with this drudgery? I may be a sham d'Urberville, but my finger can do more for you... ...than all your blue-blooded ancestors. I'm right. You know I am. Forget about all this. And forget about that mule you call your husband. Go on, hit me. I shall not cry out. Once victim, always victim. That's the law. I was your master once. I shall be so again. If you're any man's wife... ...you're mine. {Y: I}My own dear husband... {Y: I}My own dear husband... {Y: I}... I shall die soon unless I get word from you. {Y: I}All my letters have remained unanswered. {Y: I}Have you even received them? {Y: I}I long for one thing only... {Y: I}... and that is to see you again. {Y: I}Come back to me, Angel. {Y: I}Come back and save me from the thing that threatens me. Any reasonable person would call this a ludicrous situation. I offer to help you... ...you and all your family. But no. You prefer to turn yourselves into gypsies. Please go away. In other words, Mrs. Clare... ...you're asking me to let you starve in peace? Go away! You'll be civil yet. What's to become of me and my poor little mites? We be the Durbeyfield family. It is written there, isn't it? Oh, it is written plain enough, I grant you... ...but the rooms have been taken. You never sent the deposit. He means the money to be paid on account, Mother. There's more in life than money, sir. You cannot leave these fatherless children in the street. - It would be a crime! - Missus. Hospitality's sacred, even among the pagan Turks! Please, missus, it is your own fault. We'll see about that. We're true descendants of the knightly d'Urbervilles. Nobody leaves us in the streets like horse apples... ...not in the home of our ancestors. Our bones are in the crypt there, laid out in their coffins! - Mother, I beg you. Don't take on so. - No, my girl. What's true is true. Your poor father's eyes are on us. We mustn't shame him. The Lord will protect his own, and the wicked shall be punished. Bain't you stopping here, then? No, my good man, we're going on. Good man? My beasts are spent. I ought to be getting back to Marlott. No, wait! Wait! Now, unload it all. - Where? - Here. - Here? - Yes, here. We shall camp beside our church... ...until the town of our ancestors finds us shelter. Now, come on, children. Set to work. Why am I on the wrong side of this door? - Who's there? - It's me, Father. Angel. My boy. My poor boy. I've been ill, but I'm quite all right now. {Y: I}Why have you treated me so monstrously, Angel? {Y: I}I do not deserve it. {Y: I}I have thought it over carefully... {Y: I}... and I can never, never forgive you. {Y: I}You are cruel. I shall try to forget you. {Y: I}All I have received at your hands is injustice. Mr. Durbeyfield. Beg pardon? You are Mr. Durbeyfield? They don't live here no more. Since when? Since John Durbeyfield died. Do you know where they went? "John Durbeyfield, 1832 to 1888. More properly d'Urberville... ...of the once powerful family of that name... ...and descended through an illustrious line... ...from Sir Pagan d'Urberville, one of the knights of the Conqueror. How are the mighty fallen." Oh, yes. How indeed. May I? For the poor. I prefer to settle the mason's account. He has never been paid for his work. They were an odd family. Mr. Tringham would have done better to keep his mouth shut. I should like to see Mrs. Clare. Mrs. Clare. Tess. Yes, I know. She's not here. You are Mrs. Durbeyfield? Yes. Where is she living? I don't know. I'm her husband. I guessed as much. Then tell me where she is. Please tell me. Leave her. Leave her in peace. My poor girl has suffered enough. She don't care to see you, sir. Never. Mrs. Durbeyfield... ...take pity on a lonely, wretched man. Tell me where to find her. I beg you. - She's at Sandbourne. - Sandbourne? But where? It's a large town these days. That's all I know. Sandbourne. Excuse me. I'm looking for a Mrs. Clare. Would you by any chance know her address? No. Hey, George. You got a Clare on your round? Clare? No. We get a lot of visitors here, you know. Or a Durbeyfield. Miss Durbeyfield. - D'Urberville at The Herons. - That's it, d'Urberville! - Is a boarding house, sir. Can't miss it. - Whereabouts? Yes? Please excuse me for calling at this hour... ...but do you have a Teresa d'Urberville staying with you? - Mrs. D'Urberville, you mean? - Yes. Please come in. Would you tell her that a relative is anxious to see her? It's rather early. What name shall I give? - Angel. - Mr. Angel? No, Angel. It's my Christian name. She'll understand. I'll just go and see if she's awake. Tess. I came to ask your forgiveness. It's too late. Too late? My darling wife... ...I've come to fetch you. - Don't. Don't come near me, Angel, please. Too late. Too late. I'm not the man I was. I've suffered too. I humbly beg you to forgive me. Yes. Oh, yes, yes. But I tell you, it's too late. Don't you know it all? Don't you? - How did you find your way here? - I had to... I saw your mother. I waited and waited for you... ...but you didn't come. I wrote to you, and you didn't come. He has been good to me, to all of us. He has won me back to him. He's upstairs. Go now, Angel. Go, please. And never come back anymore. Good morning, my dear. Well, what's the matter now? Are you feeling unwell? Is that why you have the vapors? Yes? No? Yes, I know. We're moping as usual. For God's sake. Try and make an effort. Did you have a bad dream? Brazil, perhaps? These morning hysterics of yours are in poor taste. Don't forget we're lunching with the Bennetts. I'd like you to look presentable. A genuine d'Urberville. I came to tell you that I've killed him. I've done it. I don't know how. I don't know. That... That time I hit him with my glove. The blood in his mouth. I thought I might be capable of... Yes. Yes, it was from that day on. What do you mean? I mean I've killed him. I won't desert you. I shall protect you by every means in my power. Whatever you may or may not have done, I love you. I love you. Will they hang me? We must get out at the next station and head north on foot. They'll be looking for us in the Wessex ports. Once we reach the north, we'll go abroad. I have the makings of a meal here. Even a bottle of wine. Rest at last. We must leave at once. We must leave here as soon as possible. My life couldn't be a matter of weeks? Why not wait for them here? Since they'll catch me in any case. I'm going to save you. Do you hear? I'm going to save you. Can't we rest here? I'm afraid not. By day this place is visible from miles around. There are no stars tonight. Perhaps we could have made our souls take flight together. Do they sacrifice to god here? No. To the sun I believe. It's a Pagan temple. Older than the ages. Older than the D'Urbervilles. Do you think we shall meet again after death? I'm afraid Angel. I'm afraid. There's no use sir. The whole country's roused. She's sleeping. Just a little longer. Have they come for me? Yes. I'm ready. Done by (c) dCd / January 2006