Subtitles by Seglora.
My usual, please.
Ah, that's better.
More than usual. Thank you.
What would you like?
Who is the new woman behind the bar?
The daughter of the one who used to be there.
What happened to her?
She died last winter.
Ah, the police.
Good evening.
What will it be?
How old are you?
22
She's not. She's 16.
That's a lie.
I'm 17, nearly 18.
Call the patrol.
Ah!
I'm not going to get myself into trouble,
lying to the police.
You are too young to know how to handle
troublemakers.
I'm not too young.
I've got to earn my living.
I have a family to support.
At your age?
They should be supporting you.
I'm sorry, you'll have to come out from here.
Just a moment, Inspector.
I can fix you in a job.
No, thanks.
Oh, not with myself.
As an artist's model.
I've heard all about sitting for artists.
The one I have in mind is an absolute gentleman.
All you do is to sit still while he paints
you, and he pays five sou an hour.
Real money?
Cold, hard cash.
Your name is Trilby O'Farrell, and you're 22 years old?
What made you take up modelling as a profession?
I have a family to support.
That's a heavy burden for such pretty shoulders.
They're strong enough.
Good. They'll need to be in this world.
I'm not afraid of the world.
Nor am I, only of love.
There's been some quick social promotion around here, I noticed.
Like mother, like daughter.
Always jealous.
Jealous of her? There's only one place she'll
end up. In the gutter she was born in.
I don't know. Sometimes the devil looks after his own.
Lucky devil.
Papa, try and drink this.
What is it?
Soup.
Glory be that I am to die sober.
I can't give you anything stronger.
Doctor said not to.
God will make it all right for you.
Somehow in the end for all of us.
I was a clergyman once, and I know he will.
I know he will, too.
We'll all be forgiven, I'm certain,
even the wickedest that ever lived.
All they need is the sense in the next world
to realize their wickedness in this.
And that'll be punishment enough, I'm thinking.
Of course it will. Of course.
Trilby, my poor child, what will become of you?
Don't worry. Nobody's going to do me any harm.
They will, child, they will.
And I'll not be here to protect you.
I like that music. Where's it coming from?
The studio across the landing.
From the old sculptor with the nanny goat whiskers?
Hmm? Oh, of course you wouldn't know.
You hardly ever come near me these days.
Nanny goat whiskers are gone.
Three Englishmen have moved in.
Painters.
Which one is playing the piano?
None of them.
That's that crazy scarecrow Svengali.
He goes in and uses their piano whenever he likes.
They'd do better to leave him out in the gutter where he belongs.
Why?
Because he doesn't wash and he has the
evil eye, that's why.
Still he can play the piano.
It's 12:00. It's my rest.
Ah, so it is.
Thank you.
Shall we take lunch together for old time's sake?
No. I'd rather have a look at the man with the evil eye.
Oh? On your own head be it.
I beg your pardon. Are you looking for somebody?
No, I was just listening to the music.
Please go on. Don't mind me.
I'm sure we'd all like to know who it is
we have the honour of addressing.
Oh, don't you know me?
I'm Trilby O'Farrell, the model.
I often pose for Durian, the sculptor across the way.
I pose in ensemble, you know?
And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?
My name's Taffy Wynn.
This is Sandy McAllister, known as.
The Laird because of his fierce Scotch whisky.
How do you do?
This is Billy Bagot.
He's the most recent arrival on these shores from old England.
How do you do.
That's Gecko.
And the gentleman at the piano is...
Oh, I know who he is. Durian told me.
You're Svengali, aren't you? You've got the evil eye.
Mademoiselle.
I have genius, mademoiselle.
Durian would naturally not know the difference.
Now I came to look at you, I've often seen
you playing in the streets on a penny whistle.
On a flute, mademoiselle.
Even such humble trash as Gecko and myself must eat.
But you play beautifully. Please go on.
How can I deny such a charming appeal? Gecko.
My father could have been a great
musician, and he sang like an angel.
His name was Patrick Michael O'Farrell of
Trinity, Cambridge.
He was a gentleman and a scholar.
He used to sing Alice, Where Art Thou.
Do you know it?
It's the most famous song ever written.
I'm only a poor street musician,
mademoiselle.
I know Schubert, Chopin, Schumann,
Mendelssohn, Liszt, Scarlatti, Mozart,
Beethoven and a little Wagner, but I have
never heard of Alice Where Art Thou.
Gecko, have you heard of Alice Where Art Thou?
Not even Gecko has heard of Alice Where Art Thou.
What a shame.
I know it very well. It's a very charming old song.
Yes, isn't it? I can sing it. Shall I?
We'd like to hear it very much.
The bird sleeping gently, sweet Luna
gleameth bright, her rays tinge the forest,
and all seems glad tonight.
The wind's sighing by me, cooling my fevered
brow, the stream flows as ever, yet Alice, where art thou?
Did you like it?
Very much. Thank you.
Unfortunately, it's the only song I know.
I conceal my disappointment.
The other day, I sang it for Lito.
He's the greatest composer in Paris.
He is indeed, mademoiselle, of
everything except music.
How can you say that?
The newspapers say he's the greatest composer
in Paris, so he must be.
He said all I need was to learn better control
of my voice, and I would sing like a bird.
He was right. A large bird. Probably a duck.
Thank you.
Don't believe a word of it.
You go ahead and sing your pretty head off, my dear. More power, dear.
Oh, I don't mind a bit of criticism. Not as
if I earn my living at it. You must keep
me in mind next time you want a model.
We will indeed.
Whose is this?
Mine.
But the drag picker's basket is wrong.
How could he tap his pick against the rim
and make the rags fall into it if it's hitched
halfway up his back?
And he's got the wrong chapeau and no lantern.
Oh, dear, it's all wrong.
Dear me, you seem to know a lot about it.
A pity you don't paint yourself.
Oh, no, I'd be worse than that.
I pose for Carel at a school.
Do you ever go there?
No, but I'm enrolled for it.
He gets his initiation there
tomorrow, and heaven help him.
What nice teeth you've all got.
It's because you are Englishmen, I suppose,
and clean them twice a day. I do, too.
Trilby O'Farrell, that's my name.
48 Rue de Puiscallou.
Whenever you want a good model, don't forget.Goodbye.
Allow me, please.
What have you done to your foot?
Nothing.
Why are you limping?
I've always been lame in this foot.
Don't let the students be too rough with him tomorrow.
I can take care of myself.
Of course you can.
Who said you couldn't?
Buy them a lot of rum punch at the school,
and they'll worship you. Thanks, everybody. Bye.
What do you make of her?
She's not the most tactful of creatures.
She's enchanting.
Believe me, gentlemen, I could
teach that clumsy creature to sing
well enough for the Paris opera.
Have a cigarette.
Merci, monsieur.
So you're an expert on singing
as well as everything else?
I can teach. Ay, Gecko?
He's the greatest teacher in the world, gentlemen.
A true genius.
He'd need to be to teach her to sing in tune.
Do not underestimate me, my friends.
I do not play in the gutter because the world ignores me.
It is I who ignore the world for the moment.
When the time comes for me to reveal my true genius
I shall do it.
Then the world will be at my feet.
But only I shall decide when that moment shall be.
Meantime, I prepare, I teach.
Observe how I taught Gecko to play.
Gecko, play.
There they go again. Don't they ever do any work?
You know, Durian, I just met somebody I could really like.
Not our friend Svengali, I hope.
No.
I don't know which he needs most, a lesson in
manners or a good scrub. No, it's a young Englishman.
Sad eyes and a limp. He needs looking after like my father did.
Heaven help him.
This is your first art class?
Yes, monsieur.
Monsieur, it is obvious you have no talent whatever.
Monsieur, I agree.
He agrees, he agrees.
Monsieur, have you ever been tied to a
ladder and dipped in the Seine?
No, monsieur.
The Seine is a very wet river.
Very wet.
I'm sure it is.
Are you prepared to be tied to a ladder and dipped into it?
If there's no alternative.
Is there alternative?
If you have one, monsieur, submit it.
I submit that I invite my fellow
students to a round of rum punch.
Accepted.
To Billy.
To his undying genius.
To his pocketbook.
Well, my boy, do you consider yourself
well and truly successfully christened?
Well, you are one of us now, huh? Vive la Boheme.
Vive la Boheme.
May you grow to be so famous and
prosperous that one day I will be able to
say ah, poor Trilby remembers him when he
wasn't too proud to clink a glass with her.
But you'll have forgotten me then.
Never.
Of course you will. Trilby, you'll say. Trilby?
Oh, yes, I do recall a model by that name.
She came to a bad end, I believe.
Oh, yes, people like me always come to a bad end.
Trilby, have you christened our initiate?
Not yet. I haven't even had time to drink his health.
Christen. Christen him now.
Right. I declare that from now on, you are accepted
as a great artist and a brother at arms.
Ah.
Return the courtesy, monsieur.
Go on. What are you waiting for, old age to set in?
Kiss her properly.
Or we'll throw you in the Seine.
Into the river, splash.
I'm afraid it's a custom, you know.
Ah.
Trilby, a song.
Sing us a song, Trilby.
The bird sleeping gently, sweet Luna gleameth -
- bright, her rays tinge the forest, and all... -
I don't know whether it's just that
I'm getting used to it, but it doesn't sound as
bad as it did the first time.
It's just you're getting used to it.
The bird sleeping gently, sweet Luna -
- gleameth bright, her rays tinge the forest, -
- and all seems glad tonight. -
Good day.
What is the matter? Have you been crying?
No. Just one of my headaches.
Shall I cure it for you?
You can't. They always last all day.
I can cure it.
Come with me.
I wish to use your studio.
Mademoiselle Trilby has the headache.
I will take it away.
Certainly. Come in, Trilby.
Thank you.
Anything I can do to help?
Yes.
Keep silent.
Sit here.
Gecko, a cushion.
The pain is bad, hmm?
Yes.
It is here?
Uh-huh.
Do not take your eyes away from mine.
Now you are going to go to sleep, Trilby.
When you wake, the pain will be gone.
Sleep.
Come here.
Do you see?
She is asleep, but she is able to speak to you.
Ask her something.
Are you asleep, Trilby?
Answer him.
No, I'm not asleep.
Do you know who it is who asked you that?
Yes.
Billy.
What is your opinion of Billy?
I like him best.
Well, well, well, she
likes you best, you lucky fellow.
Tell her to open her eyes and look at you if
she loves you so much.
Tell her.
Can you open your eyes and look at me,
Trilby?
Now she will not be able to open her mouth.
Ask her.
I've had enough of this.
Bring her back to her senses.
If she loves you so much, tell her to open
her mouth and speak to you.
Tell her.
Why didn't you open your eyes when I asked
you to just now, Trilby?
Now she will not be able to rise from her chair, either.
Ask her.
No, I won't.
Very well.
Now I will set her free.
Trilby,
your headache has gone.
Sleep no more.
Why, it's gone.
I haven't got a headache any more.
No.
I have got it myself here in the elbow.
I shall keep it as a memento.
Every time you have a pain, you shall come to
me and I will cure you and take the pain myself. Gecko, out.
Truly?
Do you truly mean that?
How can I ever thank you?
The time will come when you can thank me,
but not yet.
How wonderful.
How wonderful of him.
I hope you never let him do that to you again.
Why, Billy, if you had a headache and he
could cure you, wouldn't you let him?
No, I would not.
Why not?
Do you think I've got answers to
everything like Svengali?
Because I haven't.
Billy, what's the matter?
Nothing.
Except that I should never have come here to Paris.
I don't belong here.
I don't fit in.
It's not my world.
I don't understand it.
I should go back to England.
Then you'd be running away from
something, wouldn't you?
How do you know I wasn't running away
from something when I came here to Paris?
Were you?
Myself, perhaps.
Why, if it isn't Mademoiselle Trilby,
the great art critic herself.
There you are, Monsieur Taffy.
I brought something especially for you.
What?
I borrowed some from Papa Martin.
A real rag picker.
He's one of my oldest friends.
A rag picker?
Yes. Why not?
He is not a bit stuck up.
Now these are the right things.
All you need is a model.
What are we waiting for?
Oh, the birds singing gently...
Oh no.
Sweet Luna gleameth bright -
There's just enough left for you.
Hold out your glass.
Thank you.
I ought to leave it for a guest, but I'm
enjoying myself too much.
I thought you hated us all and wanted to go
back to England.
I never said I hated anyone.
I only wish it was as easy as that.
I don't believe you really know what you want.
Taffy, that's the last of the claret.
The cellar's dry.
No, nonsense.
There's a bottle out there in the kitchen
under the table. I put it there myself.
You didn't.
You drank it.
Who, Taffy? All of it?
No, all of you.
And Billy was going to get some more, but he forgot.
What's the matter with your memory these days, Billy?
It's your fault, Trilby, isn't it Laird.
Yes.
Mine?
Yes.
Ever since you desired to adopt the three of
us lock, stock and barrel, Billy's been
going around as if Svengali put him to
sleep too and forgot to wake him up.
Don't be a fool.
It's true, isn't it, Laird?
No, it isn't.
It's because he's working harder than you.
Working harder than us. Now, prove it.
Well, he gets more holes in his socks
which I have to darn.
He gets more paint on his shirts which I have to wash.
And he gets more compliments for his
pictures which I have to pose for.
Oh, has she ever kissed you like that?
Never more since Billy.
Nor me.
Well, I'll do it now to show it's one for all
and all for one.
Shame on you.
What have we done now?
I don't know why I allow myself to put a
foot into this studio.
Oh, Taffy, now is it because of old.
Svengali's piano thumping?
If so, we'll be glad to pitch him out his
arrogant, unwashed neck, won't we, Sandy?
It has nothing to do with Svengali.
He didn't entice away my best model. You did.
Now, Trilby isn't the only model in Paris.
I'm not the only sculptor.
But who else do you suppose awakes the
creative genius in me now that Trilby has flown?
The model I have posing for me now looks like a sack of potatoes.
Boiled, fried, or peeled?
In their jackets.
I am modelling only the head.
There is the only torso worthy of
immortality in marble.
And what's it doing?
Washing dishes.
And you let her.
Philistines. Philistines.
Durian, to make amends, I will come
back and pose in ensemble.
I shall hold you to that.
Hey! Hey!
I'll get some more glasses.
What's the matter?
Nothing.
Trilby.
What is it?
You didn't mean, that did you?
Mean what?
About posing for Durian again.
Of course I did.
Could you... will you promise me never to
pose for him again?
Why ever should I promise that?
I don't mean never again.
I mean not... not...
You mean not naked?
Do you think it's wrong?
It hurts me, Trilby, like a knife in my side.
What does?
I won't let you.
I won't.
Won't let me what?
What ever is the matter with you, Billy?
It makes me unhappy to see you like this.
I love you, Trilby.
That's what the matter is.
Can't you see?
I've never really loved anyone before.
I didn't know it would feel like this.
Is that all it is?
All?
You are funny.
Yes, I know I am.
To make such a fuss about it, I mean.
I love you, too, but doesn't make me unhappy.
It would be an empty sort of world if we
didn't love people.
I didn't mean that sort of love, you know I didn't mean it.
I wanted to kill Svengali that day he
got you under his power and made you do
whatever he told you.
But he was only curing my headache.
He touched you.
He touched you with his long, dirty fingers.
I could have choked him.
Billy
I want to be the only thing in your life,
blotting out everything else.
I don't want to share you with anyone.
I don't want anyone to touch you.
If I were good enough for you, if I could
make you happy enough, I'd force you to marry me, Trilby.
Does that mean you will?
Of course it doesn't.
Why not?
All the reasons in the world.
Because I'm lame?
Oh, what a foolish thing to say.
There's never been anybody else, Trilby,
and there never will be.
Of course there will.
Mustn't behave as if it's the end of the world.
It's only the beginning.
But we can't talk about it now, please.
Sandy, I've got a horrid idea that idiot
Billy has fallen in love with Trilby.
I've long had the horrid idea that she's
falling in love with him.
Well, this might easily turn into a very stupid business.
I think it's time we took the young
gentleman on a sketching tour of the French countryside.
It's as good as done.
What are you doing here?
Where are the Englishmen?
Didn't you know? Off on a sketching tour.
They will never be missed.
I miss them.
And I miss the fees they pay me for modelling.
I shall have to go back to Curin, as draughty as a railway station.
If you choose, you can put all that
nonsense behind you forever.
And do what? Starve?
Not if you put your trust in me absolutely.
Not if you do exactly what I tell you to do.
I don't think I fancy myself as a street musician.
You never listen to me, do you?
When I play that piano, I play it for you.
But you look the other way and smoke a cigarette.
You look at the pictures on the wall.
You look out of the window at the sky, at the chimney tops.
Everywhere except at me. Only when you have the headache.
Then, only then do you listen to Svengali.
If you think I'm not grateful.
I want more than that.
How much more?
I want to give back to the world of music through you. Il bel canto.
What's il bel canto?
The music of the spheres.
Sounds which only I can create in the human throat.
And only in your throat, Trilby.
But I sing like a duck. You said so.
You are not listening to me again.
You are looking out of the window.
Look a little lower on the other side of the river.
There is a little gray, ugly building.
It is called a morgue.
And in it are eight slanting slabs of brass
all in a row, and one day you will lie and sleep on one of those slabs.
You, Trilby, because you would not listen to Svengali.
And over you will lie a leather apron
and over your head a brass cap.
And all day long and all night long the cold
water will trickle all down your long, beautiful body.
And strangers will come and stare at you
through the glass window and say ah, what a beautiful young woman.
She ought to be riding in her carriage en pair.
And then who should come riding by in his
carriage en pair in a rich fur coat and
smoking a big cigar but Svengali, with the world at his feet.
And I will stand and look at you and laugh.
Why?
Because you prefer to be in love with
Billy than to conquer the world with me.
Very well. Laugh. Laugh.
But the day will come when you will need me.
And on that day, somewhere a clock will
strike 12, and you will feel me call to you, and you will come to me.
Don't be silly.
You find me very comic, don't you?
A scarecrow, a bogeyman.
But inside I'm just as alive as Billy.
I feel just as he does.
I weep and I laugh. I love and I hate.
But he looks down his nose and sees only his feet.
I look inward at my dream.
And my dream is for you, Trilby, to lay my
fortune, my genius, my glory at your feet.
You're mad.
You will never laugh at me again.
Well, my boy, the simple country life
certainly seems to agree with you.
Well, if it does, it doesn't show in my work.
I think we've been on the move long enough.
Oh, we've only just left Paris.
And we did agree to work our way to the
Italian border and back through Switzerland.
You two fellows do that.
I can go back to Paris and wait for you there.
Oh, no. If you go back to Paris, so do we. Don't we, Sandy?
No, we've done our best and failed.
Who are we to stand in the way of true love? You're on your own.
Vive la boheme.
Hey, Billy's back!
Billy, how was the country?
Hey, did you cut off your ear like Van Gogh?
No, I've still got both my ears.
What's the matter, Billy?
Trilby?
Sandy, it's for both of us.
Then do the honours.
From Trilby.
I'm very unhappy.
I was posing at Carel's, and Billy came in, was so shocked and disgusted
that he ran away and never came back.
So that's the trouble.
I never thought anything about sitting before.
I sat first as a child to Durian, seemed as
natural for me to sit as for a man.
Now I see the awful difference.
Poor Trilby.
And I've done other things besides, as you
must know, Durian and Besion, but not Bertier
though people think so.
Oh, this is harrowing.
If you and The Laird and Billy cut me, I
really think I shall go mad and die. What shall I do?
I don't go out for fear of meeting one of you.
Will you come and see me?
Off you go.
Hello, monsieur. Hello, hello. Mademoiselle Trilby.
Uh-huh. Oh, merci.
Trilby.
Taffy
I didn't think you'd take any notice of my letter.
Of course you didn't. Here I am.
Now, what's all this nonsense about?
Oh, good heavens, I didn't know a woman
could cry so many tears, and all over nothing.
Nothing?
Nothing at all. Now, you're going to dry your eyes and have a
good laugh about it. You're going to give me pneumonia crying
down my shirt front all the afternoon.
Billy hates me.
Oh, my dear, I wish he did.
He'd be in less of a giddy spin and easier to manage.
Where is he?
Well, he's just dashed off back to.
England without any warning or explanation.
To England?
Oh, don't worry.
He's just about due to dash back again, if I know Billy.
And when he does, you've got to behave as
if nothing had happened.
You mark my word.
Before you know where you are, you'll both be
laughing your heads off and thinking what
idiots you've both been.
You think so?
Bet me life on it.
I really love him, Taffy.
You quite sure?
Uh-huh.
I never realized how much until I saw his
face at Carel's school.
I'm not really wicked.
I know you're not.
Does love always make everyone as
unhappy as this?
It's difficult to know which way it's
going to jump next, but we'd be a lot of dry,
dull old sticks without it, wouldn't we?
You sound as if you've been in love hundreds of times.
Oh, hundreds.
Well, no.
Only once.
I thought I was.
The same thing, really.
Still, I managed to live through it.
Will I live through it?
I personally guarantee it.
Now, supposing you come right back to the
studio and resume your foster mothering of
Sandy and me as if nothing had happened?
And you deal with Billy when you have to and not before.
I never knew how wonderful it is to have
real friends.
That's what we are.
We always will be.
Now, where's your hat, huh?
Go on, my dear.
Only one flight more.
Here we are.
Home again.
Welcome on the mat.
There's certainly a great pile of dirty
dishes in the sink.
How's this?
Its a bill.
Attention, Taffy Wynn.
What does it say?
It's a letter from The Laird.
Will you go on in?
I want to have a word with Durian.
Is that you, Taffy?
Taffy said you'd gone back to England.
I changed my mind at Calais.
Why?
I remember what you said about running away.
Trilby, you've been crying.
Why?
I've been unhappy.
So have I.
It's all wrong, isn't it?
No. Not if you love me. Do you?
Yes.
Will you marry me? Will you?
Yes. Yes, if you want me to.
Long life and happiness.
Long life.
So now we have a pair of love birds, ay?
And the scarecrow to go with them.
The life of birds is very short.
They meet, they mate, they moult.
And love birds can hardly be said to live at all.
Leave them alone.
Such a suitable match.
His parents must be delighted.
Have they given it their blessing?
Oh, go home and take a bath.
I'm neither mad nor English.
I never bath.
Gecko, take him home before he spoils
everybody's evening.
Why? What harm can I do them?
Why should I blight their little moment of silly joy?
I will celebrate it with them. Gecko.
I'm sorry.
Come in, Trilby.
This is Miss Trilby O'Farrell.
May I present Mrs. Bagot,
the Reverend Frederick Bagot.
You're Billy's mother?
I am. And this is his uncle.
How do you do?
Miss O'Farrell, you wish to marry my son.
Yes.
Do you consider it a good match?
Oh, no, I'm not the sort of person he ought
to marry, I know that.
But if you know that, why did you
consent to the proposal, Miss O'Farrell?
Because I... because we...
Possibly because they fell in love with each other.
You're very beautiful.
There's no doubt about that.
But you don't want him to marry me, do you?
You have just said yourself that you're
not a fit wife for him.
I know, but Billy said I was when I told him that.
Has he ever spoken to you about his background?
Not very much.
Surely he told you that he would one
day inherit a considerable fortune?
No, I never knew anything about that.
And now that you do know?
He doesn't have to inherit it
if he doesn't want to, does he?
How will he live?
There's painting.
He's going to be a great artist. Everybody
says so. Don't they, Taffy? And I've always known.
Do you really love him, Miss O'Farrell?
Yes, I really love him.
Then you must know as well as we do what
this marriage would do to him, Miss O'Farrell.
What will this marriage do to him?
Exactly what you know it will do.
Prevent him from taking his rightful place in his own world.
Separate him from his mother, his sister, his family, his friends
I'm afraid my brother is right, Miss O'Farrell.
Will it really do all that, Taffy?
It might. I can't tell you what I feel, Trilby,
but I can't tell lies to you, either.
No.
No, you don't tell lies, Taffy.
How stupid of me not to have thought of all
this at the beginning.
I won't marry your son.
Do you really mean that?
Yes.
I promise.
I will never see him again.
Please don't go...
Trilby.
Off in town...
I couldn't stand it. I came away.
Is Billy's mother still there? Well, what happened?
I'm going away.
Where are you going?
I can't tell you that.
Not for a while. When it all blows over, I'll come back and see
you and Taffy again. Goodbye.
Goodbye, Trilby. God bless you.
God bless you, too.
Where's Trilby?
Gone.
What do you mean gone? Gone where?
How should I know?
You're the one who thrown her away.
You've destroyed your own world for her,
then you throw her out of yours.
That's a lie.
I love her, and I'm going to marry her. Where is she?
Even if I knew, you would be the last
person I would ever tell. Leave her alone.
You can only bring her more misery, more disgrace. Let me go.
What did she tell you?
Let me go, or I shall put a curse on you.
Tell me where she is.
No, I tell you, I don't know.
But I hope that she's dead and the fishes have got her.
They have a better right to her than you have.
May you be cursed for touching me.
May death strike you down.
Has she come back yet?
No, Billy.
You call yourself a friend.
Why didn't you stick up for her?
All that hypocritical rot and humbug about
not being good enough for me, and you agreed with it.
She didn't agree. We only...
She must have told you where she was going. Tell me where she is.
We don't know.
Yes, you do. Tell me, or I'll kill you.
We don't know, Billy. I promise you. I wish we did.
I don't care where she is, I'll find her.
And I'll never forgive you, you treacherous, rotten Judas.
You stood by and let those two meddling
idiots smash my life to pieces.
Will you listen...
Take your hands off me and get out of the way.
Billy, come back, you raving idiot!
Sandy, he shouldn't be out alone.
Billy! Billy! Billy!
I'm afraid I brought you a long
way for nothing, Mr. McAllister. He won't see you.
Perhaps it was Taffy you should have sent for.
No, he won't see anyone, not even his family.
But you told me in your letter he was recovering.
I thought so. I hoped so.
But what we didn't realize is that he
doesn't want to recover.
I didn't know when I went over to Paris to
try and help him that I was doing anything wicked.
I thought I was doing right.
Now the doctor says he may never walk again.
If only he'd be angry with me or reproach me.
But all he does is work at his painting, and he
doesn't talk. It's breaking my heart.
I may not be able to do much good, but
I'd like to see him, anyway.
Hello, Billy.
I don't care how many doctors have told you you can't walk.
You're going to walk again.
If the only person who can make you do it is.
Trilby, I'm going to go back to Paris and find her.
Don't be a fool.
You still love her, don't you?
No.
Don't you be a fool, of course you do.
And she still loves you.
There's only one thing you have to do. Get well.
Svengali.
Where have you been all these months?
Why does nobody answer this door when I knock?
Because there's no one there any more.
Why? Where have they gone?
Back to England six months ago. Billy had an accident.
What kind of an accident?
A coach knocked him down. Didn't you know?
So poor Billy.
Has he recovered?
I don't know. I haven't heard from them.
Do you know where Trilby is?
No. Nobody does. She's vanished from Paris.
I shall find her.
Then you'll be smarter than the rest of us have been.
I am smarter than the rest of you.
She is not far away. She is in Paris.
She is coming here.
Svengali.
What is the matter?
My headaches have come back.
There will be no more headaches.
You are asleep. The real world is a bad dream.
Only when you sleep like this will you find peace.
Now you are in a world which I have made for you.
A beautiful world in which there are no
headaches and the heart does not break and men
do not betray you.
Do you like this world I have made for you, Trilby?
Yes, I do.
Do you still miss Billy?
Yes, I do.
There is no such person as Billy! Say that!
There is no such person as Billy.
There is only you and your singing and Svengali.
For I have a power over you which nothing but death can break.
Sing that note!
I can't.
Yes, you can. And I will tell you how.
I will form it for you correctly, and I shall
pitch it true. But it will not come from my throat.
It will come from yours. I am a great singer. Say that.
I am a great singer.
You use your arms like a washer when you
move from one foot to the other like a cab horse.
Keep still! Look outwards towards me.
Put your hands behind your back so I can't
see them washing my shirts and keep your great feet still.
I will trample on them.
Don't blubber like an idiot.
Work. Concentrate.
It is in your throat and your mouth you
sing, not with your hands and feet, you
great, stupid, beautiful clown!
It can't be Trilby.
It is.
Where are you going?
To the stage door.
It can't be the Trilby we knew, Sandy.
Leave well alone.
Trilby.
Don't you remember me?
Monsieur has obviously mistaken.
Madame Svengali for someone else.
Trilby. Trilby, it's Sandy.
The Laird. You must remember us.
We've been searching for you everywhere, Trilby.
The lady's name is not Trilby.
Monsieurs had too much to drink. Drive on.
It's Billy.
He's been ill ever since his accident.
Only you can help him, Trilby.
Drive on! Drive on!
Trilby! In the name of God, the boy's dying. Trilby!
Turn around and laugh.
I told you to leave well alone.
But that was Trilby.
Once.
William, The Laird is back from Paris.
Tell him to come in.
Come in.
Hello, Billy.
I brought an old friend of yours to see you.
Hello, Billy.
Did you find her?
I have a lot to tell you.
Some of it easy, some of it not so easy.
Did you find her?
Yes, he did.
Well?
She's changed a great deal, Billy.
I told you not to go, not to be a fool.
You're so sure you were right.
We don't know yet that Trilby has changed
in her heart, Billy.
But outwardly she has changed.
Or someone has changed her.
Who?
Svengali.
Svengali? But she'd never allow him near her.
I don't believe you've found her at all.
Yes, I did. She's become a famous singer, Billy.
Is that meant to be a joke?
No. Svengali's done something to her voice.
What are you talking about?
It's true, Billy.
I don't believe any of it.
And you ought to know Trilby better than to
believe any of it yourselves.
You've been lying to me. You didn't see her.
Son, you'll make yourself ill again.
Why are you lying to me?
Billy, try and understand.
Tell me the truth.
My son.
What's happened to Trilby? I must know.
Can't you see it's killing me?
Yes, God forgive me, I can.
Nobody's lying to you, Billy.
Will you tell me the truth, then?
You saw her, and she told you she wanted no part of me.
That's it, isn't it? Admit it.
Durien for pity's sake, be careful.
I can only tell you what I believe.
I believe she's never needed you in her
whole life as much as she needs you now.
Where is she?
Here in London.
Do you see that box? That is where I shall sit.
I shall not be conducting you, understand?
Here in England, Gecko will conduct you.
When you come onto the stage tonight.
I shall be there in that box.
There in that box.
Begin the rehearsal.
Stop.
Where do you think you are?
Back in the laundry?
This is Covent Garden, not kitchen garden.
The English may not know much, but they
know the difference between a singer and a tom cat.
Sing, you great, clumsy fool. Forget
your laundry and your stupid empty wits and sing.
Svengali, I try. I try my best, but don't be angry with me.
Please don't be angry with me.
Forgive me.
We are all working at the edge of our nerves.
It's only my way.
I cannot change what I am. I would
be no use to myself or to you if I were different.
Now sing.
What have you done to your baton?
Get another!
I will take the rehearsal.
Gecko?
Billy.
How you have changed.
How ill you've been.
What are you doing here?
I've come to see Trilby.
He will let her see no one.
To the devil with him.
Take me to her now.
I cannot. Not now.
Svengali is mad like a lunatic with nerves.
It would only make bad trouble.
He is a sick man.
I don't care if he drops down dead.
Take me to her.
Not now.
Listen, trust me.
As soon as it's possible, I will help
you to see her, but not when she is singing, Billy.
Never when she is singing.
It must be sometime when her mind is her own
when she knows who she is.
What do you mean?
That is not Trilby singing.
That is Svengali.
He possesses her.
He can make her forget anything.
Billy, he has made her forget you.
I don't believe that.
I swear to you it is true.
If it was possible, I would have set her free long ago.
You would have?
I worship her like a dog.
I would give my life for her.
But it is not clever tricks we would be meddling with.
They are both of them living on the edge of death
Billy, I implore you, go home. Let me
come to see you when I have explained to you.
Trilby!
Let me go!
Gentlemen, please, please!
No fighting here! We can't have it!
Svengali.
Put that man out!
Never let him come in here again! I'll kill him!
Get out.
Svengali, what's the matter? Are you hurt?
No.
You are.
Who was that young man you were fighting with?
It was nobody. Does not matter.
But I hate him.
I hate him more than I ever hated any living man.
Why?
Because I owe everything and I owe
nothing, because my life should be full,
it is empty, and because I love you.
It doesn't seem like it, does it?
I have a cruel, ugly way of showing it, haven't I?
I am cruel, I am ugly.
But what would happen to you if I were to die?
Who would guard you and protect you then?
Someone else said that to me once.
Long ago.
It was my father, Patrick O'Farrell.
I was Trilby O'Farrell.
I posed for the figure.
Rest.
What have I always told you?
Not to remember anything except my singing. And...
And?
And you.
Why?
Because you took my headaches away.
Not because you love me?
Yes. I love you very much.
You and I are Dr. Coppelius and his
clockwork doll.
I wind you up, and you smile, sing, and say
yes, I love you very much.
Who is Dr. Coppelius?
Never mind. It doesn't matter.
Go to sleep now.
What would happen to me if you were to die?
If I should die before you, and I think
I shall, I shall not leave you behind for
long, Trilby. I shall come back, fetch you.
Thank you. I get frightened when I'm left alone.
Always as you feel safe.
People go away in fear of you.
Sleep.
Good heavens, look at him.
He's lost his power over her.
Pity's sake, sing, mademoiselle.
But I can't sing.
Trilby, are you ill?
Shall I tell them to ring down?
No. If they want a song, I shall sing them one.
The birds sleeping gently, sweetly Luna
gleameth bright, her rays tinge the forest,
and all seems glad tonight.
Shut up, you brutes, shut up.
Trilby, come with me. Come.
Gecko, what is happening?
Never mind. Just come with me.
There is nothing I can do.
This woman is dying.
Billy! Billy! Billy!
If I die before you, and I think I
shall, I shall come back to fetch you, Trilby.
Trilby? Trilby?
Svengali?
Trilby, listen. Listen to me.
You love me, Trilby.
If you believe that, you can break his power over you.
Fight against him. Fight against him.
In God's name, break his power over you
and come back to me. I love you, Trilby.
I'll protect you from him.
Come back. Come back.
Trilby.
Billy.
What happened?
Asleep. Only asleep.
I had a dream.
It's over.
Yes.
Yes, it's over.
Subtitles by Seglora