We Believed Page #2

---

Not to please Mazzini,

who spreads bad rumors about me,

but for the passion

I read in your eyes.

Come with me, I'll introduce you

to Marquis Rosales.

Paris, huh?

- What do you do in Paris?

- We work with a physician.

- Why are you going to Turin?

- We're looking for squill.

It's an herb needed

for an expensive medicine.

The purest anywhere is near Turin.

Let's go.

Two, three, four, five,

six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

TURIN:

- Salvatore, Rosa's coming up.

- Alright.

Did you get it all?

- All set, you'll sew that yourselves?

- Sure.

Get moving.

Salvatore, how do you like it here?

- Not bad.

- And Rosa?

She's getting used to it,

she may have a job with a milliner.

Then she might like this.

It's a gift from Paris.

Thank you, Angelo.

It's very elegant.

I don't know...

There.

Never forget,

we're brothers.

How've you dressed my Salvatore?

Looks like a ladies' man, huh?

- Did I cut the squill right?

- Yes.

We prepared it like you said.

- The doctor in Paris will be glad.

- I'll set the table.

- Don't, we're leaving right away.

- Won't you stay a while?

- I made 'cavatielli' pasta.

- Stay a bit longer.

No, the council thinks it's not wise,

we'll go to the designated Inn

and leave tomorrow at dawn.

- Martyrdom.

- Resurrection.

Mr. Tambasco,

this brother comes from Parma,

his name's Antonio Gallenga,

but we'll call him Procida,

listen to him carefully.

He wants to make an attempt

on the Savoy King's life.

Carlo Alberto?

He can't deceive liberals,

and then hunt and execute them.

Carlo Alberto must die

and I'll die with him.

There's no other way to get close

and stab him in the heart.

I've studied my plan well.

- What does Mazzini say?

- I met him in Geneva.

He gave me the name of Procida.

He got me a false passport

to get to Turin

and he put me in contact

with your council as my base.

- What should I do?

- Procida needs a weapon.

- He wants to stab him.

- In fact, he needs a dagger.

It's impossible to get a weapon

in Turin at the moment.

What should I do?

Steal a knife from a kitchen?

I said it was impossible in Turin.

Go to Mazzini in Geneva

and he'll give you a dagger.

- Why doesn't he go?

- He's too well-known.

Besides, the council

wants a third brother

to receive what will become a seal.

You've just arrived,

the police don't know you.

- But I still have to receive...

- Trust.

Carlo Alberto's death

will fire our uprising,

all our efforts will be given

an extraordinary boost.

This is your passport,

you'll leave tomorrow.

It's an outrage.

They're ridiculing the King!

The King in a brothel...

This play is immoral!

Just like "Hernani"!

We want verses, not this trash!

They're interrupting again?

With the excuse of Classicism,

they want to stop all progress!

Here's the real poetry.

Wig-wearers!

Close the curtain!

- Brigands!

- Yes, and proud of it.

Call the gendarmes!

Let them continue!

Let them act!

Respect the actors' work.

Stop!

Let them act!

GENEVA:

Have a seat, Tambasco.

Would you like tea?

No, thank you,

I must leave right away.

So,

how are preparations

going in Turin?

Sir,

there are few of us,

and the police are everywhere.

Sometimes I'm afraid

to talk to the other brothers,

I'm not sure I can trust them.

Don't worry, the councils

are under my authority.

Keep fear under control,

it can be dangerous.

Look at Procida.

Men like him should give us courage.

When my fraternal friend here

presented his project to me,

I objected, argued.

I tried all I could to dissuade him.

But that boy isn't afraid of dying.

He is one whose determination stands

between God and conscience,

and whom Providence puts

on earth to teach despots

their power can end

by the hand of a single man.

I suffer thinking

of our friend's sacrifice,

but I know, in this way,

he'll begin a second life,

not only in Heaven,

but also among men.

He knows this

and it is a thought

which will comfort him as he dies.

Ours is a rough road.

You know,

they jailed my dearest friend

to force him to betray me.

He said nothing

and as soon as he was alone

he broke a piece of metal

from the door,

sharpened it and cut his jugular.

The guards found him

in a pool of blood.

He died despairing of men

and without being stirred

to revenge by any word of mine.

His corpse is always before my eyes.

Go, my friend,

the road is rough,

but the reward is bright.

May God be with you.

May I see it?

- It's barely sketched.

- Please.

You really don't deserve it.

For my playing?

For the way ideas play in your head.

No one has ever drawn my portrait.

The expedition to Savoy will fail,

Mazzini recruits rich middle-class.

Class conflict is necessary.

Mazzini wants no terror or blood.

But he had two spies murdered!

They were surely plebeians,

Mazzini doesn't spill blue blood.

Why do you insist with this story?

We know the police spread this rumor.

He didn't have those spies killed.

What harm would it have been?

It's a crime against all law.

The law? I damn the law.

Laws on property, who cares?

We don't own anything!

Laws on justice? To defend what?

Laws on freedom?

Without work, tomorrow we're dead.

Revolution or nothing.

Domenico, there's

no equality without revolution!

So what about fraternity, freedom?

A betrayer is no brother.

Our political and moral creed...

I'd almost say a religious creed,

is expressed in just one word.

Equality!

Equality of political rights.

Our final and permanent objective:

equality of social condition.

That's our battle.

We could experiment,

unite the farmers

to cultivate farmland together.

They haven't enough brains

for these experiments!

Alright, but for all

the problems brought to bear

on the farmers of lower Lombardy,

the landowner could be of help,

looking into

what happens on his land!

Examining renters contracts

to obtain more regard for the poor.

Possessing lands

can't include such hassles!

It must!

Are landowners limited only

to the possession of State bonds?

"May the spice of our kindness"

"be not such grave torments,"

"but mild distain and mild refusal,"

"fights and wars to be followed,"

"restoring the heart,"

"by either peace or respite."

Thank you for staying

with me so late.

I was very depressed.

I understand you.

If men of such distinction

are indifferent to the farmers...

One must live among the farmers,

something none of them do.

The inert find it hard

to lift a finger

and inertia is a filthy sore!

When Angelo and I arrived in Paris,

the revolution felt in the air.

There was a fervor, an excitement...

I don't know why,

but weeks are passing, months

and the goal seems more distant.

We aren't made for deceit

and truth at the same time.

Little by little we tire

of the cold we find

in what appears to be ardent

and bright.

The fault is within ourselves,

but we don't realize it.

In calling illusion, truth

and truth, illusion,

we let ourselves be transported

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes