Dear Mr Clennam,
we have crossed the Alps,
and havejust arrived in Venice!
"Our journey across the Alps
was quite arduous.
"The track was too steep and narrow
for the carriages,
"so we had to use mules.
"Mine was quite a pretty one,"
she says, "and her name was Elena."
Elena! Oh, once I had
a sweetheart named Elena! Bellissima!
Maybe it was the same one, eh?
Stubborn, was she?
No, no, you don't understand
what he's saying,
he says he knew a young lady
called Elena, not a mule!
Si, si, una ragazza!
"At the mountain hospice,
who should we meet but, er..."
Yes, well,
the rest need not concern you,
except that she sends
her very best wishes to you all,
and she hopes
you haven't forgotten about her.
Just think of it,
Little Dorrit, so far away...
In your country, Mr Cavalletto!
And she don't speak
a word of Italian!
She should have had me with her,
I'd have helped her out!
I'm very, very glad you bring me here
the first day. I'm very 'appy here.
He says he's ver-ry 'ap-py here.
Glad to hear it.
I'd never have got what he was
saying, not speaking Italian meself.
Welcome to Venice, Signore. You've
had a pleasant journey, I trust?
Tolerable, I thank you.
Er, our rooms are ready?
All ready, Signore...
That is to say, the small salon
is at present occupied,
but the lady and gentleman
will be leaving very soon,
within the half hour.
You have the audacity, sir,
to place one of my rooms
at the disposal of another person?
I beg you, Signore,
not to be offended.
Signore shall have his rooms.
The best rooms to be had in Venice.
Signore... Would Signore
care to speak to the lady?
She's a very genteel lady...
an English lady.
I'll hear no more of the lady
and no more of you!
You've treated my family
with disrespect. I'll ruin you!
Load up the luggage, I'll not stay
in this man's house a moment longer!
Signore, I beg you...
Come, he's said he's sorry,
what more can he do?
Yes, hold on, Pa.
I want my dinner. I'm starving.
I don't care, sir!
I'd rather starve than take my bread
at the hand of a man
who's insulted me!
Ah, Signore!
Is it possible you might...
Look here, I say, sir!
Don't take offence
where none intended.
Edmund Sparkler, sir,
at your service.
Look here, sir...
I'm a man of few words and a bad hand
at explanation, but, er, the lady,
mother of mine, in point of fact,
doesn't want a row...
Well, that's all very well,
but when you bespeak a lot of rooms
and they belong to you,
it's not very pleasant
to find other people in 'em.
Oh, I know! But...
the fault's not this chap's.
It's my mother's.
She's a remarkably fine woman,
with no begad nonsense about her.
He tried to tell us
it was time to leave,
but she was too many for him.
Regularly pocketed him.
- Edmund?
- Er...
I do hope you have
explained to this gentleman
that the Major-domo
is in no way to blame?
Doing my best, Mater. Er...
Is it all right, sir?
My dear sir, the fault is all mine.
We are supposed to be leaving
for our new apartments in Murano.
But I'm afraid our
departure was delayed.
I throw myself
utterly upon your mercy.
I say, Pa, what's taking so...?
Can you find it in yourself
to forgive us, sir?
Madam, what I supposed an affront,
I now regard as an honour.
You are very kind, sir.
Edmund?
- But Mater...
- Edmund... Edmund... Edmund...
Do you suppose Mrs Merdle
didn't recognise us, Fanny?
She knew us all right. She just
decided she wasn't going to let on.
That's her way out of a difficulty.
Well, she'll see
two can play at that game,
if we ever come across her again.
Dear Little Dorrit,
I wonder where you will be
when you read this letter.
We were all thrilled
at Happy Cottage
to hear news ofyour grand tour,
and Maggy in particular wishes you
to know she has not forgotten you.
Bleeding Heart Yard
is still greatly excited
by your family's change of fortune,
and Pancks remains quite the hero
for mauling it out.
How strange it seems to me now
that I ever should have
linked your family misfortunes
to the House of Clennam.
A foolish fancy. From now on,
Little Dorrit,
I shall let the past
lie in the past.
Amy!
Eh, Signorina! Buongiorno!
- Buongiorno...
- Brava!
Va fare un giro in barca?
I'm sorry, I don't understand.
- Fa niente! Arrivederci!
- My dear!
Come away quickly!
We do not speak to common men.
Well, you did say
to try and speak Italian.
With the Professore, dear.
NOT with common men.
Shall we try a little conversation?
Tell me, Miss Dorrit,
are you pleased with Venice?
It's very beautiful...
and strange,
with canals instead of streets.
It makes me feel strange,
as if I were dreaming.
That is not an appropriate feeling,
my dear.
Mr Eustace, in his little book,
compares Venice
very unfavourably with London.
He says,
"The Rialto is all very fine,
"but nothing compared
with Blackfriars Bridge."
Now you would do well
to commit that to memory,
so that if someone should ask you
what you think of Venice,
you will have
something worth saying.
Yes, Mrs General.
But if someone asks me what I think,
should I not tell them the truth,
if it offends no-one?
Conversation in society
is not about unburdening the soul.
It is about the polite exchange
of correct opinions and sentiments.
But how am I to know
what is correct?
That is what I have been
endeavouring to instil in you!
I am sorry, Mrs General.
I will try to do better.
Hmm.
Ah, now we have arrived
at the eastern portals...
All well with the works, Mr Doyce?
Well as can be.
I've made up my mind
to mount another assault
on the Circumlocution Office.
Your invention should be put
into production on a great scale.
It needs to be patented
and it needs to be publicised,
and it can't be
while the Barnacles of this world
are burying it
under their heaps of paper.
They need to make up their minds
what to do with it.
Or...or know that
we'll take it elsewhere.
You'll never get an answer out of
them. It's far better to put it by.
Let me see what I can do, and unless
I have some success to report,
you'll never hear about it again.
Agreed?
Agreed.
You'll regret it, mind.
First class, beautiful action,
can't be faulted.
Magnificent horse,
nothing wrong with him.
So he hands over his money
and the chap says,
"Just one thing about this horse.
He sits on eggs."
Well, he thought,
that won't bother him much...
Oh, Lord...
Look here, this isn't about
William Dorrit again, is it?
No, it's about...
Just wait a while, if you would...
Can't you see
I'm engaged at the moment?
So he goes back to the fellow
that sold him the horse and says,
"What's all this?"
"Ah, forgot to mention,
"that horse sits on fish as well."
Well, bless my soul!
Mr Barnacle?
If you are at leisure now?
Precious little leisure here, sir,
I assure you.
We are extremely busy here.
Now, what was it?
I believe you have the particulars
for an invention filed here,
by Mr Daniel Doyce.
Ah. Stop you there. Wrong department.
I should give him some forms.
Here you are.
You can fill these in.
Won't do any good, mind.
So, Little Dorrit,
I will fill in their forms,
I will do exactly as they ask of me
and I will force an answer from them
either way.
As for the rest,
all goes pretty well here.
The business thrives,
little Cavalletto
keeps all the children amused
in Bleeding Heart Yard.
The Plornishes thrive
in their new shop
and Pancks gets his rents.
Maggy sends her love,
and everybody sends
their very best wishes to you,
including, of course,
your steadfast friend,
Arthur Clennam.
You enjoyed that letter
more than Mr Eustace's little book,
I think, Amy?
From Mr Clennam?
Yes.
Don't tell Papa.
And don't let Fanny hear you playing,
or she'll take
your clarinet away again.
Oh dear, oh dear,
we do let 'em down, don't we?
They can't take us anywhere,
can they, Amy!
Ah, Amy.
Mrs General and...
What is that?
It's one of your shirts, Father.
I mended it for you.
How many times must I tell you, Amy?
You're a lady, now.
It is not for you to mend shirts.
Now Mrs General and I have been
in conversation about you,
and we agree that you scarcely
feel at home here. How is this?
I think I need a little time,
Father.
"Papa" is a preferable form of
address. "Father" is rather vulgar.
Besides, the word "Papa"
gives a pretty form to the lips.
"Papa", "potatoes",
"poultry", "prunes" and "prism"
are all very good words
for the lips...
Especially "prunes" and "prism".
Pray, my child, attend to
the precepts of Mrs General.
I will try, Fa...
Papa.
You disappoint me, Amy.
You disappoint Mrs General!
You make her task
a very thankless one.
I would never wish
to disappoint you.
In the old days...
We do not refer to the old days, Amy,
I demand that you conduct yourself
in a manner satisfactory
to myself and Mrs General.
If Miss Amy Dorrit will
direct her attention
to the formation of a surface,
with my poor assistance,
Mr Dorrit will have
no further cause for anxiety.
- Thank you, Mrs General.
- Thank you, Mr Dorrit.
Amy, why do you habitually hurt me?
Hurt you?
I would never hurt you!
There's a topic...
A painful topic.
You mean the old days.
I...I try not to speak of them,
but the Marshalsea,
and the people we knew there
and in the little streets
round about,
have been my whole life so far.
I know you want me to be ashamed
of them, Father, but I can't be.
Papa! Call me Papa!
I was there, since you must
mention it, all those years.
I gave my family a position there,
and now I deserve a return.
I say, sweep that accursed experience
off the face of the earth
and begin afresh!
Why can't you do it?
You, my dearest...
...my favourite child?
How can you expose
your father to mockery?
There, there, now, Father.
Nobody laughs at you.
Everybody has a high regard for you,
as they always did.
Come now, hmm?
Dry your eyes.
What would Mrs General think?
There.
Will you kiss me, Father?
It's very hard, Amy.
Why do you paint in the dark...
...my friend...
...when there is so much
natural beauty outside?
Because I know my limits.
Do you expect me to compete
with Titian and Tintoretto?
Best to copy what other men have
done and make myself a few pounds.
Your father, my love, is an excellent
man and generous to a fault,
but his idea of an allowance doesn't
go very far on the tour of Europe.
Would you like me to write
and ask him for some more money?
I'm sure he would like it.
It would give him
ample opportunity to reflect
on what an idle spendthrift
his son-in-law is.
Henry, I'm sure
he doesn't think that.
Hmm, I'm quite sure he does.
Is there any wine in this place?!
You drank the last of it
this morning, if you recall.
I shall return with reinforcement.
Oh, by the by,
the old man, with the daughters,
is in Venice. Remember him?
Roast man?
I saw them all this afternoon.
I remember the roast man.
Could we see them, do you think?
I should like to see Miss Dorrit again.
But you would have to see her
anxious, pompous, preening father
and her clown of a brother and
that walking corset of a companion!
But they are wealthy, however.
You might get a decent meal
out of them.
Huh?
All right, my love,
if it pleases you.
We shall, er...send our card.
- Thank you.
- Anything to please you.
A bientôt.
- If...you really want to please me?
- Yes.
How long must we continue
with Monsieur Blandois?
- You don't care for his company?
- No...and nor does Lion.
Well, I confess I do.
He's a scoundrel, like most men,
but unlike most men,
he makes no bones about it.
I admit it, I find him fascinating.
You don't find ME fascinating?
I find you perfect, my love.
I wouldn't change
a single thing about you.
"Mr and Mrs Henry Gowan would like
to inform you
"of their presence in Venice
"and to invite you
to their apartments for tea."
I've told you,
let the servants do it.
Who are these people?
Do we know them?
You remember, Papa.
They were at the hospice.
She was unwell and silly little Amy
embarrassed us
by fussing all over her.
I remember 'em well enough.
Oh, yes.
There was a Frenchman too.
Looked like a villain in a play.
Yes. I do recall.
I think there was an unfortunate
connection with...um...er...
Never mind, perhaps it would be best
if we were not to know these Gowans.
What would be your advice,
Mrs General?
That...would depend very much
upon their connections in society,
and as we are not aware of those,
I cannot pronounce.
They're very thick with the Merdles.
Ah!
I should like to pay
a visit to Mrs Gowan,
and become better acquainted
with her, if...
Papa and Mrs General
do not object.
There you go again. You never
think of anyone but yourself.
You're dead set on showing us up,
I believe, Amy!
"Showing us up" is not
an elegant phrase, my dear.
Nor, I'm afraid, is "dead set".
They suit me well enough,
Mrs General, thank you very much.
It is my view that the Gowans'
acquaintance with the Merdles
puts a completely different
complexion on the matter.
Indeed. Under these circumstances,
I think I express the sentiments of
Mrs General, no less than my own,
when I say that we have no objection,
Amy, to gratifying your desire.
You must do everything that is civil
on my behalf to Mr and Mrs Gowan,
for we will certainly notice them.
Would you excuse me?
Excuse me, Fa...
...Papa.
- Well, honestly...
- Perhaps it would be best...
I protest!
I protest against it!
Frederick, what's wrong?
What's the matter?
"What's the matter?" How dare you!
Th-Th-That is the matter.
And er...how dare you.
Have you no memory?
Have you no heart?
Why? What have I done?
How dare you set yourself up
as superior to your sister,
after all she has done for you?
For all of us?
For shame, you false girl,
for shame!
I love Amy!
I don't deserve to be treated so!
I was never so wickedly wronged!
And only because I'm anxious
for the family credit!
To hell with the family credit!
It's all pride and pretension!
I don't give a fig for the family
credit, if it causes that girl...
one moment of unhappiness!
I couldn't possibly
have let you go
to the Gowans' on your own,
darling Amy!
You'd never have made it here
by yourself.
Thank you, Fanny.
I am very glad to have your company.
Here...
...a small token...
from your wicked sister.
There, that's brightened you up
a bit, you little mouse.
Mrs Gowan!
Papa was extremely sorry
to be engaged elsewhere.
Thank you for coming to see me.
We have been charmed to understand
that you know the Merdles.
We met Mrs Merdle in Venice.
- You know, a delightful woman.
- I've never met her.
They are friends
of Mr Gowan's family.
So I understand. Is Mr Gowan here?
Yes, and would be
very glad to see you.
But are you well...since that night?
Quite well, thank you. And you?
I am always well.
Will you come through?
Henry is working.
You will excuse the disorder
of a painter's studio?
Oh, we should be enchanted,
shouldn't we, Amy? Is it this way?
- Oh, lovely.
- You look very well.
Oh, Amy, I can't tell you how much
I was hoping you would come.
Oh!
Don't be alarmed.
It's only Blandois.
He's er...doing duty
as a model today.
It saves me money and...
well, we poor painters
have little to spare.
A thousand pardon, ladies.
I would kiss your hands,
but I am forbidden to stir.
Don't you think he makes
an admirable brigand?
Admirable.
I'd say he was born for the role.
I don't think the dog
quite approves, though.
I'll teach you to disobey me!
Where's my whip?
I beg you, sir!
Don't punish him any more.
See how gentle he is now.
Well, you're in luck, Lion,
you have a charming defender.
I know you don't like Blandois,
few people do,
but you must always obey your master.
It's a good rule for dogs
and for wives too, eh?
Mademoiselle Dorrit.
You are a connoisseur?
I... Not at all, sir.
Perhaps you learned to appreciate
fine things
at Mrs Clennam's house? Hmm?
We are both friends
of the House of Clennam.
But you, you are
a special friend, I think.
Specially favoured?
Mrs Clennam has shown me
great kindness, sir...
if that's what you mean.
But there is another connection,
I think. Between you and her, no?
Do not forget.
Hmm?
Monsieur Blandois...I take it that
you are alluding to my family's past?
Yes.
I am not ashamed to tell you
that I was, at one time,
employed as a seamstress
by Mrs Clennam.
She employed you as a seamstress?
I don't know what you mean, sir.
Excuse me.
She doesn't know
what I mean.
No matter.
Toujours gaie, hmm?
Toujours gaie.
Charming.
Oh, no! What's he doing here?
Who?
Young Sparkler, of course!
Did you ever see such a fool?
Now his mother's seen how rich
we are, she's let him off the leash!
And...do you mean
to encourage him, Fanny?
No, I don't mean to encourage him.
But I'll make a slave of him.
And if I don't make his mother
subject to me too,
then it won't be my fault.
I intend to humiliate her
the way she humiliated me.
Oh, lord, look at him now!
Honestly!
Mr Sparkler...
Hello, sir...
We're going to the opera
this evening.
We'd be greatly honoured
if you'd join us.
Delighted, sir.
Overwhelmed by happiness.
Mr Sparkler, you are acquainted
with Mr Gowan, I believe?
Pray, does he paint portraits?
I believe he'd paint anything, sir,
if you got him the job.
Amy and I could have
told you that, Papa.
We were there watching him paint
a portrait this very afternoon.
Indeed. Do you know, I think I might
engage him to paint my portrait?
I think, if I were you sir,
I'd get him to paint a portrait
of Miss Dorrit here. She's, um...
she's a damn fine girl
with no begad nonsense about her.
I thank you, sir.
You are very kind.
And now, with heavy heart,
I must leave you, my dear friends.
But we have had a pleasant jaunt, no?
But the business calls.
I have had intelligence today
that calls me back to London.
Chère madame.
Cher monsieur!
Adieu!
Who knows when we shall meet again?
Well! That was sudden!
Very strange.
Lion!
Here, boy!
Lion?
Lion, come on.
Come on, boy.
Oh, God!
Lion!
- What's the matter?
- Lion?!