Francisca Page #7

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will meet with another love

who can make her forget

the shame of the first one.

I only regret that

our character as men

makes our affections

so strong

and that we can't withdraw our heart

as fast as the hand

we offer to a friend.

I'm going to marry Fanny,

and I don't love her.

My consciousness is enlightened,

but it loses me.

The best way for an aristocrat

to enlighten something

is to be hung on a street lamp!

Read Byron, eleventh stanza,

twenty-eighth verse of "D. Juan".

Represented by an attorney, Fanny's

family didn't attend the wedding

in the Church of Santo Ildefonso.

Mr. Jos Augusto

Pinto de Magalhes,

here represented by his legal

attorney, Marcelino de Matos,

do you take Francisca Owen,

here represented

by her legal attorney Jos de Melo

e Silveira, as your lawful wife,

as per the rites of the Holy

Church?

I do.

Miss Francisca Owen,

here represented

by her legal attorney,

Jos de Melo e Silveira,

do you take Jos Augusto

Pinto de Magalhes,

here represented by his

legal attorney, Marcelino de Matos,

as your lawful husband, as per

the rites of the Holy Church?

I do.

It rains. The newlyweds

will be happy.

To whom did Fanny write

those cursed letters?

To a Spaniard, it is said.

Calumny needs imagination

to make itself forgivable.

Camilo's hand is all over this.

A Spaniard!

This is obviously his idea.

Words slide through

the populace's memory

like water through tiles:

they leave more filth than they clean.

That same day, in the Casa da

Capela in Santa Cruz do Douro.

Madam, the master has ordered me

to tell me that he's gone to Oporto,

and that you should not wait for him.

Very well.

You can go to sleep.

- Goodnight, Madam.

- Goodnight, Franzina.

Fanny often talked

with a relative of her mother,

from the Rocha Pinto family.

Animals are happier;

their instinct never lies to them.

With us, when instinct

approaches us,

all the duties, conveniences,

and even worse things emerge.

You will be very happy. This is just

a bad phase of your marriage.

- All weddings are like that.

- Be it, but...

What sort of consolation is that for

me? I don't want any consolation.

I want to die

and I will eventually die.

I have a destiny to fulfill

and I will fulfill that destiny.

You can't live by feelings only, Fanny.

No, I can't.

That thing they call poetry is madness.

What is real is energy, matter,

blood and body.

Nothing will remind him of me

if he does not feel me.

I wanted to conquer him, tie him to me,

steal him from everything, even himself.

To rob him from the sorrows

which are his own.

From the cupidity that his heart feels

for all that is himself.

I'd offer him, in exchange,

a blazing and boundless love.

If I don't see him today, I'll die.

Fanny, Fanny.

Unhappiness is a rare gift!

Wait.

It's them, and I don't feel any joy.

What an absurd heart!

When I feel less distant from him,

I value my love less.

The men of the house have reached.

Good afternoon.

When men reach home

even green firewood burns.

How's the weather outside?

We know it's windy,

it comes from the sea.

They're not listening.

I could confess a crime right now

and I wouldn't have

neither a judge nor an executioner.

Passion turns sins

into matters of little importance.

What a beautiful gaze!

If angels are pure intelligence

they must gaze like this.

Men and women!

I wish I were

a tree by the road,

instead of the good wife

and Mr. husband.

Back in the Lodeiro house.

Sister, I can see you are very tired.

You must take care of yourself.

You know, sister, this stubborn

attitude from my father,

of forbidding me to write

to my beloved ones,

especially my mother,

makes me sad.

Just today I received

one of my own letters back.

Letters are returned,

unopened.

It is Maria who sends them back,

with her handwriting.

You shuold dismiss Franzine.

- Why? - She behaves in

a very inconvenient manner.

Sister, don't you see how she stares

at Jos Augusto?

- What's wrong with that?

- Don't say I didn't warn you.

Don't stand so close to me.

You stink!

Feeling better, Franzina?

God help you, my daughter.

You are so young.

Never think about anything

with your heart is sealed and unhappy.

Oh, my dear, my dear!

One day, Fanny saw a letter

in the hands of Jos Augusto

and recognized Maria's handwriting.

No, but give me that letter.

What's wrong?

It is a letter like any other letter.

- No letter is like any other.

Some are pigeons, others are crows.

I know who wrote that letter.

To know so much mortifies a person.

Fanny!

My Fanny!

The goddess of love

usually enjoys malice.

The remedy for malice is

to let go... to suffer.

Wherever I go I leave the imprint

of a crime. Damn it!

We are not unhappy, are we?

We ferociously live our happiness,

that is the case.

Do you love another?

If you do,

I'm her friend.

I will make a shawl for her

to use it the theatre, by your side.

No, I don't want to do that.

It would have to be

drawn with blood

and pierced with needles,

taken from my heart.

Do I bring you that much harm?

Why don't you go out like you used

to do when you went to the river?

That one over there.

It's a small river, not a big one.

You used to say it was made

of your tears.

- That was so long ago, Fanny.

- Then take your horse to the hill,

through the pine grove,

from where, if you scream,

the wind carries your voice

to the sea.

Go! When you're far away,

my heart has only room for your return.

Jealousy disappears

like a dog we throws stones at,

and despair hides

with shame.

I'll wait for you,

and that's all that matters to me.

Fanny, men do not wish

to be loved like that.

They were not made for a love

like that. It humiliates us.

- Whose letter is that?

- The letter? You obstinate woman!

Angel of perils and malice,

that's what you are.

Is that the reason why I live like this,

imprisoned and surveilled?

Is that why behind every door

I find a spy?

They know if I'm sad,

If I'm happy.

If I eat meat

or decline wine.

They know all,

and they tell all.

To whom? To whom?

In this house Camilo has

servants who are more his than yours.

He pays them to know how we live.

Tomorrow he will say that you beat me,

and the entire Oporto will know it.

Take that letter, and let it burn

the air that you have in your chest,

the same air with which

you utter such hateful words.

It was Fanny who had the idea

to go to Bom Jesus do Monte

to spend a season.

Camilo went there to visit them.

- What a surprise! You look much better.

- I am not.

There's no cure for heart matters. Only

different stages of the same disease.

What are you reading, Fanny?

Byron, Jos Augusto's favorite reading.

Listen:

"When you've never been

and you will never be lovers,

Earth offers absolutely

no friendship compared

to a woman's.

Byron is the gospel of the egotists.

"She loved her husband, or, at least,

she believed to love him.

But this love demanded her

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