Tess Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Tess script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Roman Polanski movie with Nastassja Kinski.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Tess. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Tess Script





- 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 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.






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.






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.






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   .



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 queer 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.






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.









No, no. Try 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 hussy.

- 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.






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?






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.









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 bosom.



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.






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.









- 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.



Dairyman Dick 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.






It is no common name.



He never says much to us,

more's the pity.






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...






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.






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?






Fear of life, in general?



Yes, sir.



So have I. Very often.



Life's a puzzle. Don't you think?






...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.






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.









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.



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.






- 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 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.



It was the good Lord who put this

nice young parson's son your way.



You must believe that.



But with respect to your question...



...I tell you quite private

but very strong...



...on no account say a word

about your bygone trouble.



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 discovered that we were

not Durbeyfields...



...but d'Urbervilles.



Well, go on.



Well, that's it.






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.



My youth...



...my simplicity...



...and the strangeness

of my situation...



...may perhaps lessen my fault.



But since I committed it...



...I am guilty.



I must be guilty...



...because the Lord saw fit

to take my child.



If what I have just written...



...failed to pass my lips

in your presence...



...when I had repeated it

a thousand times in my heart...



...it was for fear

of losing you forever.



For love of you...



...I shall conquer that fear

and bring you this letter.



Once you receive it, Angel...



...you will hold the rest

of my life in your hands.



I hope...



...I tremble...



...I love you.









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, 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.






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.






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.






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.






...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?






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.









...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?






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.






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.






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?






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 cock a leg for him, eh?






If it isn't my little Tess!



Poor poppet, what a state you're in.



You're so cold.






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.



Dairyman Dick all the week



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 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.






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.






Why did you never say anything?



I had nothing to ask of you.



That isn't so.



You wear your ridiculous pride

like a hair shirt.



And you've put me even more

in the wrong than I was.



Against my will.



I'd have done my duty by the child.



On my honor, I would.






I want to take you away

from this wretched place.



It's unworthy of you.



What is this strange temptation

misery holds for you?



Come to your senses.



Come away with me.



Your father's ill.

Did you know?






They fear the worst.



Your family will be evicted if he dies.

They're quite as destitute as you.



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!






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




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.



My own dear husband...



My own dear husband...



...I shall die soon unless

I get word from you.



All my letters have

remained unanswered.



Have you even received them?



I long for one thing only...



...and that is to see you again.



Come back to me, Angel.



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.



Why have you treated me

so monstrously, Angel?



I do not deserve it.



I have thought it over carefully...



...and I can never, never forgive you.



You are cruel.

I shall try to forget you.



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,      to     .



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.






Yes, I know. She's not here.



You are Mrs. Durbeyfield?






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?






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?






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.






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.






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, 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, 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.


Special help by SergeiK