Amor de Perdição (1979) - full transcript




Sim?o Antonio Botelho,

who claims to be thus called and to be
unmarried, a student at the University of Coimbra,

born in Lisbon and working as an assistant
in Viseu at the time of his arrest.

Age: eighteen. Son of Domingos
Jose Correia Botelho.

Sim?o Antonio Botelho,
who claims to be thus called

and to be unmarried, a student at the
University of Coimbra, born in Lisbon

and working as an assistant
in Viseu at the time of his arrest.

Age: eighteen.

Eighteen years!

The scarlet and golden
splendor of the dawn of life!

Grace of a heart that still
does not dream of fruits

and everything will be filled
with the smell of flowers!

Eighteen years!

He left for India on
the 17th of March 1807.

The Holy Thursday Marcos Botelho
was standing in front of a lady,

in love with him, and
how disloyal she was.

In the same church was pointing his eyes
and his heart towards the same lady

also an infantry lieutenant.

Marcos restrained his jealousy, but
while leaving he faced the soldier

and he challenged him.

The friends of both were
able to calm them down

when Luis, brother of Marcos,
couldn't hold his temper.

The lieutenant fell dead,

but the murderer was released
by the grace of the king.

Domingos Botelho,
another brother of Marcos,

must have had some
vocation - he sure had it:

he was an excellent flautist.

While playing he could
remain two years in Coimbra,

during which time his father
suspended the nutritions:

the incomes were not enough to relieve
the other son from the death penalty.

The skills with which the flautist won
the esteem of D. Maria and Pedro III

are not of our knowledge.

It is said that this man would
make the queen laugh with his jokes


he would ingratiate himself the favours of
the Queen to soften the bitterness of the lady

Domingos Botelho
married D. Rita Preciosa.

As judge of the Cascais province
wanted a place of greater prestige.

He settled in Lisbon, in
the Ajuda parish, in 1784.

Sim?o was born in that year,
the second of his children.

Domingos Botelho, helped by good luck again,

gained the transfer to Vila Real,
his greatest ambition.

Sim?o was one year old
when he arrived in Porto,

in front of the convent of Monchique

and from there he went on
with his family to Vila Real.

The noble lady was not
happy with her husband.

She was harsh for she missed the court,
the pomp of the royal apartments

and the most harmonious loves,
sacrificed to the whims of the queen.

But this disgusting life did not
prevent them from having children.

Meneses, what is it all this?

These are our friends and
relatives come to welcome us.

In which century are
we on this mountain?

In which century?

We are in the seventeenth
century, here as in Lisbon.

Ah, isn't so?

I thought the time here had
stopped at the twelfth century.

The husband preferred to laugh at the joke
althought it wasn't exactly flattering

At a league in Vila Real
the nobles from the city

were waiting for the fellow citizen.

Each family had a sedan
chair with the family emblem.

The one of Correias de Mesquita
was the most antiquated,

the liveries of the servants were the most
worn and moth-eaten among the bystanders.

Fernando Botelho, the
father of the judge,

came out of the parade to give
his hand to his daughter-in-law.

Isn't it dangerous to move
on this piece of antique?

I assure you that my sedan
still isn't one hundred years old

and the mules are no more than thirty.

They knew that she was
the lady of D. Maria I,

but for the pride showed,

they wondered if she was the queen.

The bells played when the cortege
arrived at the house of Fernando Botelho.

D. Rita told the husband that the
reception was noisy and vulgar.

It's a beautiful abode for
those educated in palaces

at Mafra, Sintra, Bemposta and Queluz...

D. Rita told her husband that she
was afraid of being devoured by rats,

that the rules in the harmony of
marriage did not force to die of cold

a gentle wife, accustomed to the
pillows in the palace of the kings.

Domingos Botelho adapted
to the wishes of the bride

and he began to build a small palace.

His means were barely enough
to build the foundation.

He wrote to the Queen and received
a grant to complete the house.

D. Rita laughed of her cousins

that for her love powdered
their wigs ungracefully

and they loudly rode their steeds,

pretending to know the horse racing
virtues of the Marquis of Marialva.

But his husband had other concerns.

The only evil that troubled
his spirit was the mirror.

He was seeing himself frankly ugly

while he found D. Rita
every day more in bloom.

In ancient history no example
of love without breaking

between a filthy husband
and a beautiful bride

came to his memory

except from the marriage
between Venus and Vulcan.

If the veil of perfidy was raised,

I would not have to
complain with Jupiter

nor I would cast traps to my cousins.

Along with Luis Botelho's
carbine, used to kill the lieutenant,

there were the blunderbusses in which the
judge was considered a specialist.

This life of anxiety didn't last long.

Thanks to his friends he was
appointed superintendent in Lamego.

In 1801 he became judge of
the Supreme Court in Viseu.

What does the letter say?

Manuel says that he can
not live with his brother,

he fears his bloodthirsty nature.

He says that at every
step he fears for his life,

because Sim?o uses the money
for the books to buy guns.

He lives with the most known
agitators of the University

and runs through the streets at night

insulting the residents
and pushing them to fight.

What a shame!

My son Sim?o is the true
portrait of his great-grandfather,

Paulo Botelho Correia,

the most valiant noble that
Tras-os-Montes ever produced.

Manuel, always more terrified
by the violence of Sim?o,

leaves Coimbra on holiday and goes to Viseu
asking his father for a different fate.

I want you to become a
cavalry cadet, my son.

He leaves for Braganca and he declares
himself noble to become a cadet.

Meanwhile Sim?o goes back to
Viseu with the approved exams.

The father is surprised for his talent
and he forgives his extravagances.

He asks him about his
life together with Manuel.

He wanted me to conduct a monastic life.

The fifteen years of Sim?o seem twenty.

He is a strong, handsome
man but without genius.

He chooses his friends
among the people of Viseu.

If D. Rita reprimands
his unworthy choices,

he makes fun of the genealogies

and especially those of General
Caldeir?o who died deep-fried.

This caused the
resentment of his mother.

Seeing things through
the eyes of his wife,

the judge shared his
distaste for his son.

You don't hang out
with bunglers, do you?

At the end of his holidays the
judge had a big disagreement.

A servant, while bringing
the mules to drink,

due to carelessness or on
purpose, had broken some vases.

The owners beat him while
Sim?o was passing by.

Domingos Botelho roared against his son

and ordered the officer
to arrest him.

D. Rita was angry as the
father, but still being a mother,

sent in secret some money to her son

to let him run away to Coimbra so that he
could wait there for his father's forgiveness.

Sim?o Botelho carried with him
arrogant beliefs about his strength.

His memories inspired him to new feats.

Most of the students

sympathized with the
stuttering theories of freedom

more for intuition than for knowledge.

The French revolutionaries

had not been able to bring their
clamours in this corner of the world.

The doctrines of social regeneration
through the guillotine

had a few timid defenders in Portugal,

but these were part
of the new generation.

The troops, commanded by the Duke
of Lafoes, didn't stop this fight,

because Luis Pinto de Sousa bargained
an ignominious peace in Badajoz,

yielding Olivencia to Spain

excluding the British from the ports

and compensating France
on several million.

Mirabeau, Danton, Robespierre and
others are the names of the revolution.

Whoever discredits them, in my
presence, will have to confront me!

His speeches, parodies of some
clandestine diatribe of Saint-Just,

made flee those who had applauded him

for his most rational
principles of freedom.

One day he proclaimed the academic
demagogue to the few ones remained faithful

for fear or for spirit affinity.

Portugal can only regenerate
through a christening of blood,

so that the Hydra of the tyrants
cannot raise one of its heads again

against the club of the
Hercules of the people.

The speech became the more intense
while speaking about regicide,

when a group of archers
cooled his exaltation.

The Jacobin, surrounded
and disarmed by the archers,

was led to the academic prison.

Thanks to his father's friends and
to the relatives of D. Rita Preciosa,

he was freed six months later.

After losing the academic
year, Sim?o went back to Viseu.

The judge refused his presence
threatening to throw him out of the house.

His mother, more for duty than for love,

intervened and managed to have
his child sat at the common table.

In three months the customs of
Sim?o changed extraordinarily.

He began to despise the
company of the common people.

He rarely went out,

alone or with the youngest
sister, his favourite.

The fields, trees and other distant,
eerie sites were his restful places.

In the sweet summer nights he
remained outside until dawn.

Sim?o, we are already at the table.

At home he locked himself in his room
and went out only to sit at the table.

Sim?o Botelho was in love.

He loved a neighbor,
a 15 year-old girl,

a rich heiress, ordinarily beautiful
and from a good family.

From his window he saw her for the
first time and loved her ever since.

Sim?o confided to the younger sister.

Teresa was not insensitive to the
wound inferred in the neighbor's heart.

She also loved him with a
seriousness unusual for her age.

This love was singularly discreet.

They spoke to each other for three months
without being noticed by the neighbors

nor making their families suspicious.

They promised each
other an honest future.

They say that love when
you are 15 is only play,

the latest manifestation
of the love for the dolls,

the little bird's attempt
to fly out of the nest

with the eyes fixed on the mother

that from the near front is calling.

The daughter knows what loving much is,
as the mother knows what is flying away.

I, Teresa de Albuquerque, am
perhaps an exception in my love.

My family is hated by Teresa's
father as a result of a process

where my father issued
judgments against him.

I also injured two of his father's
servants during the dispute at the spring.

It's obvious that the love of Teresa,

refusing to submit herself to
the harshness of his father,

is true and strong.



Eighteen years!

And banished from home,
from love and family!

Nevermore the sky of Portugal
neither rehabilitation nor dignity

nor a friend!

Hatred! Hatred, yes,

against the false virtues of men, who
became barbarians in the name of honor.

Eighteen years...

When they called him
to leave for Coimbra,

he stepped out of bed so transfigured

that his mother, informed
about his anguished face,

went into his room to tell
him not to leave while feverish.

But Sim?o, with a thousand projects in mind,
thought it was better to leave for Coimbra.

Pay attention, Sim?o.

I inform you that I'll fully disown you
if you'll commit new extravagances.

"My father will lock me in
a convent because of you.

I'll suffer every pain for your love.

Don't forget me, you'll
find me again in the convent

or in heaven always yours and faithful.

Leave for Coimbra.
I'll send you my letters.

In the first one I'll tell you the name
you'll use to respond to your poor Teresa."

The change in the student
amazed the academy.

If he was not in class, he
could not be found anywhere.

He confided his secrets
to no one but to Teresa

in long letters which allowed him
to rest from the tasks of science.

Then Manuel Botelho, a cadet
in Braganca, detached in Porto,

graduated and committed himself to
mathematics in the academy.

The news of the change of
his brother cheered him up.

He went to live with him.

He found him quiet, but absorbed in
a thought that made him intractable.

They lived together for a short time, because
of the unfortunate love of Manuel Botelho

for a woman from the Azores,
married to an academic.

The passionate woman got lost
between the illusions of her lover.

She left her husband and fled with
Manuel to Lisbon and from there to Spain.

Teresa's father would not
insist against the judge

if the marriage of their children
had been able to reconcile the hatred

and contempt between the families.

Rita's mother forbade her daughters
to exchange gazes with them.

The next day, encouraged by the
sympathy of that gesture of friendship,

Rita went back to the window.

She saw Teresa gazing upon
it like she was waiting.

Are you my friend?

One day you will be my sister.

Do not say anything to your family.

This would badly hurt me and Sim?o.

How dared she! There is no
more respect in this house!

Do not dare to lay
your eyes on my family!

Just marry a shoemaker who will be
a worthy son-in-law to your father.

Teresa did not hear the
ending of that invective.

She fled stunned and humiliated.

But as the minister continued to scream,

Tadeu de Albuquerque appeared at a window
and the wrath of the judge increased.

A torrent of insults that had
been contained for a long time

was poured on the neighbor
who didn't dare respond.

Tadeu questioned his daughter and was led
to believe that the wrath of Domingos Botelho

descended from the fact that the two girls
had been innocently entertaining each other.

He excused the childishness of Teresa

telling her not to return to the window.

This calm of the noble
man, whose nature was rough,

can be explained by the
plan to marry the daughter

to the cousin Baltasar
Coutinho of Castro Daire,

owner of an estate and a
noble of the same lineage.

He decided to call the nephew
from Castro Daire to Viseu.

In Baltasar Coutinho
passion aroused so quickly

as much as the heart of Teresa
freezed of terror and disgust.

The heir of Castro Daire,
attributing her coldness

to modesty and shyness,

was gratified by the
elegance of that soul

and enjoyed the pleasure
of a slow but sure conquest.

It's time that I open my heart to you.
Are you willing to listen to me?

I am always willing to listen
to you, cousin Baltasar.

I believe that our hearts are joined.

Now it is necessary that
our families unite together.

Did I say something unpleasant?

You told me something that
is impossible to achieve.

You are wrong, our
hearts are not joined.

I never thought about marrying you nor
that you would've thought about it.

Do you despise me, cousin Teresa?

No, sir. As I said,
you have my esteem.

This is why I can't marry a
friend that I'm not able to love.

- The unhappiness wouldn't be just mine.
- Very good...

- Who is disputing your heart with me?
- What would you get knowing it?

I will know that my cousin loves
another man... Is it correct?


- So much to oppose your father?
- I don't oppose him.

The heart is stronger than
the submissive will of a daughter.

Opposing would be to marry
against the will of my father,

indeed I didn't tell you about any
wedding, I just told you that I'm in love.

I am surprised by the way you talk!

Your sixteen years are
so abundant on words!

It is not just words, cousin.

These are feelings that deserve
your esteem because they are true.

If I was lying, would you
think higher of me?

No, cousin. You did fine to
tell the truth and to be honest.

You do not want to tell me who the
happy mortal of your preference is?

- What do you need to know it for?
- I need it very much, cousin.

We all have vanities.

I'd like to see myself won by those who
have merits I don't possess in your eyes.

Would you like to reveal me your secret,

as you would say it to your
cousin and friend Baltasar?

- I can't consider you my friend anymore.
- You don't want me as a friend either?

You won't forgive my sincerity,
from now on you will be my enemy.

On the contrary... Exactly the contrary.

I'll prove to be your friend if I ever see you
married to a miserable man, unworthy of you.

- Married...
- Married to some famous drunkard,

some stout rough-neck,
some distinguished knight

who's passing the school
years in jail in Coimbra.

- Is there anything more to say, cousin?
- Yes.

Don't you think you are talking
to an miserabe lover.

You are talking with your closest
relative, with a sincere friend

and the most determined
protector of your dignity.

Cousin, please sit down for a moment.

As you know, I attended
my last year in Coimbra

and I got to know Sim?o Botelho.

Knowing of your affection for him,

I was amazed of your good faith.

But your innocence must
be your guardian angel.

You have not seen Sim?o Botelho idle

with the lowest villainy
typical of this region?

Haven't you seen your servants
with their heads cracked by him?

Didn't you know that in Coimbra,

he went through the streets,
full of wine, armed like a bandit

declaring war against the nobles, the
king and the religion of our fathers?

Didn't you know all this by chance?

I partially ignored it
and it didn't sadden me to know it.

Since I've known him, Sim?o
has caused no sorrows to his family.

And do you believe that Sim?o has
changed his behavior for your love?

- I don't know nor I think about it.
- Don't get angry, cousin.

I will tell you my last words.

Until I'll live, I'll do everything in
my power to save you from Sim?o Botelho.

If your father dies,
I'll be there for you.

If the law does not
defend you from that devil,

I will show to that rough-neck that
the victory over the water bearers

will not avoid him being expelled from the
house of my uncle Tadeu de Albuquerque.

- Do you want to rule over me?
- I want to lead you,

since your reason needs help.

If you'll use your judgment, I
will be indifferent to your fate.

I'll be on my way, cousin Teresa.

Baltasar Coutinho told his uncle
the basics of the conversation.

The father slowed his
anger and started pondering.

A few hours later he
called his daughter.

Sit here, my daughter.

I want you to marry
your cousin Baltasar.

But I know that this is not your will.

I will not force you
to fulfill my desire,

but I will not allow you to offer
your heart to the son of my worst enemy.

I am one step away from the grave and
I will fall in it even more quickly

knowing that I've lost the love of my
daughter who I consider already dead.

I ask you, Teresa, if you have
any doubts to enter a convent

and wait there for the
death of your father

to be unhappy there as you wish.

My father...

I will enter in the monastery

if this is your will.


I ask you not to deprive yourself
of my company

nor to deprive me of your affection

for fear that I will
commit shameful actions

or that I may be disobedient, when
the virtue is to be obedient to you.

I will be dead for all men,

but not for my father.

Teresa knew that loyalty often
stumbles in the path of life

and that good purposes are achieved by
shortcuts devoid of frankness and sincerity.

In the letter he wrote to Sim?o

she said that she was taking
time, focusing on the future,

avoiding the torment of the convent

and without breaking with
the old man in disobeyance.

Teresa's sky seemed clear.

At the dawn of a Sunday in June 1803,

Teresa was called to go with his
father to the mass in the parish.

Frightened, the girl got dressed
and presented herself to his father.

He asked her if she was in a good mood

and if she wanted to give her
father an happy remaining old age.

He said: today you'll give your hand to
your cousin Baltasar, my daughter.

It's necessary that you blindly
follow your father's lead.

As soon as you've taken this hard step,

you will know that it
is for your happiness.

It's for your own happiness.
For your own happiness.

Teresa was so shaken that she
hardly heard the first words

and the last ones not at all.

You don't answer me, Teresa?

- What should I answer, my father?
- Do you grant me what I'm asking you?

Will you fill with
happiness my remaining days?

Will you be happy with my sacrifice?

Do not say sacrifice, Teresa.

Tomorrow at this time you'll see
the change your soul will have made.

Your cousin owns all the virtues.

- He wants me despite my refusal?
- But he is in love, my daughter!

And he has enough self
confidence to believe

that at the end you
will love him very much!

Won't I rather hate him forever?

Even now I despise him as I would have
never thought of being able to despise!

Father, kill me, but don't
force me to marry my cousin.

Violence is useless, because
I will not get married.

You will get married.

I want you to get married! I want it!

Otherwise you will be cursed forever!

You will die in a convent!

This house will go to your cousin.

No infamous one will put foot
on the carpets of my grandfather.

If your soul is vile,

you can not inherit the honored titles

who were insulted by the father
of this miserable that you love.

Go to your room and
expect to end up in another

from which you will see
no ray of sunshine.

Teresa went calmly in her room.

Tadeu de Albuquerque went to his nephew
and told him that

he could not give him his daughter,
because he didn't have a daughter anymore.

Baltasar, who according to
his uncle was a complex of virtues,

had only one flaw: the absolute
lack of pride.

Baltasar did not approve
her reclusion in a convent

and adviced his uncle
to leave her at home.

Teresa was surprised
by her father's calm

and got suspicious of his
inconsistency. She wrote to Sim?o.

She hid nothing of what had happened
nor she omitted the threats by Baltasar.

She confided him her concerns
for some new violent plan.

The student, reading about the threats

was too blinded by anger to
decipher the remaining text.

He trembled as he had fever

and the veins of his forehead
were protruding swollen.

It was not the outburst
of a passionate heart,

but the arrogant nature
that boiled his blood.

Leaving for Castro Daire to
stab Teresa's cousin in his home

was the first advice whispered
to Sim?o by the fury of hatred.

And with this intent, he rented a horse
and prepared for the journey.

Sim?o Botelho re-read
Teresa's letter twice.

When the muleteer knocked on the door,

he no longer thought about killing
the man from Castro Daire.

He asked if he knew a house in Viseu
where he could spend a night or two,

without fear of being denounced.

The muleteer responded that
a quarter of a league from Viseu,

he had a blacksmith cousin.

Teresa's birthday was for the first time
celebrated ostentatiously.

The heiress discovered
the minuet of the court...

and certain games of presents
in which time was passed in that era...

without fatigue to the body
nor distaste to the morale.

Baltazar Coutinho took notice
of the unrest of his cousin,

and had the immodesty to imagine
that she'd be offended by his indifference.

Generous to the pardon, the squire
of Castro Daire addressed Teresa.

I'm sorry cousin, for my coldness...

but it is like the mountains.
A volcano inside with snow outside.

Excuse me cousin for not
noticing your coldness.



What's wrong, my child? You have
already left twice and look so upset?

Is anything upsetting you, Teresa?

I have an ache. I need a break
every once in a while.

It's nothing, father.

Tadeu believed her and told everyone
she felt some pain.

But he didn't tell his nephew as he
couldn't find him and knew he had left.

Teresa then pretended that
she was going to search for him.

A proposition which
satisfied the old man greatly.

Come tomorrow at the same time.

There's no path here.
What is your business?

I'll open your mouth with a bullet.

- What do you care who's here?
- Do not approach!

If I have a secret, like you seem
to have around these places,

I'm obliged to confess it.

This wall belongs to a house where
only one family lives and one woman.

In this house, tonight,
there are more than 40 women.

If you await one, I can await another.

Who are you?

I do not know the person who asks,
nor do I wish to.

Let us remain incognito.

Good night.

Tadeu de Albuquerque's nephew entered
the room without showing any altered state.

He saw Teresa had observed him too,

and knew how to feign
a manner to soothe her.

The blacksmith had a daughter,

a girl of 24 years of age, prettily shaped,
a face both beautiful and sad.

Sim?o noticed the way she glanced
in contemplating him...

and asked her about the cause
of that melancholic stare.

I don't know what my heart tells me
in respect of your Lordship.

Some misfortune is yet to happen.

You wouldn't say that without knowing
something of my life.

- Some things I know.
- Did you hear it from the muleteer?

No sir, my father knows you.

And a while ago I heard my father
saying to my uncle...

that the muleteer who came with you

had his reasons to know
some misfortune was to happen.


For the love of a noblewoman of Viseu
that has a cousin in Castro Daire.

With your permission.

Dear nobleman. Excuse me
for coming in my shirt sleeves,

- but I couldn't find my jacket.
- Fine, Mr Jo?o.

Mister, I owe your father a favor.

A special favor.

One day some trouble happened here,

because of a mule of a crippled carter
that kicked a horse I was shoeing.

At that time,
the hock was broken right here.

I had there a hammer and
couldn't refrain from striking the mule.

It went down right away.

The muleteer who was a braggart,
got his hands on a rifle

and fired upon me without hesitation

"Oh damned Soul!" I said.

Can't you see
your mule injured my horse?

which cost 20 pieces to his owner
and which I'll have to pay?

And you shoot me
because I stunned your mule?

And the shot hit you?

It did, but your Lordship
would know it didn't kill me.

He hit me here on the left arm
with two shots.

And I entered my house,
went to the bedside table,

brought a rifle
and shot him in the chest.

The muleteer fell like a bird
and no peep was even heard.

They locked me up and I went to Viseu.

In the prison there was a man
serving out his sentence.

And he told me the inspector had much
devotion to the 7 sorrows of the Virgin Mary.

One time he was going to church
with his family, I told him:

Mr. Inspector, I ask you by the 7
pains of "Our Holy Lady"...

that you ask me to your presence
to explain my guilt to your Lordship.

Your father heard me and said:

Leave and I'll do what I can.

The case is, my nobleman,
that I was absolved,

whilst many people said they would
see my hung at my door.

Would I not kiss the ground
your father walked on.

Mr Jo?o has motives to be grateful,
no doubt about it.

Now please listen to me once more.

Before being blacksmith I was in service
in the house of Castro Daire.

That was Mr Baltazar.
Do you know him?

- Oh if you do!
- By name only.

It was him who gave me
10 gold coins to set me up.

But I paid him back, praise the Lord.

Six months have passed
since he called me to Viseu,

and told me he had 30 pieces
for me If I did him a service.

What do you wish, Sir.

He says he wants me
to take another man's life.

This tore me up inside.

as to tell the truth, one who kills
in the heat of the moment

is no professional killer.

At least I believe...
Isn't it so?

Right. Who was the man
he wanted dead?

It was your Lordship.

You didn't even change color?

I'm baffled!

And you didn't accept the task, I see.

No sir.

And just as he told me the name...

my wish was to hammer him
into a corner.

- And did he tell you the reason?
- No, my nobleman.

I'll tell you. The following week
when I knew Mr Baltazar,

God damn him... Had left Viseu

I went to speak with the magistrate
telling him everything.

The magistrate thought
for a while and said:

Your Lordship will forgive me for telling
you word for word what he said.

Say it!

Your father began
to rub his nose and said:

I know what that is.

If my moron son Sim?o had honor

he wouldn't look
at that murderer's daughter.

The bastard thinks I'd consent
to my son linking himself

with the daughter
of Tadeu de Albuquerque.

He said more which I do not remember.

But I ended up knowing all.

Here is what happened.

Now your Lordship showed up here,

and last night went to Viseu.

You should forgive my impudence,

but you Lordship
went to meet that lady.

I almost decided to follow you,

but since my brother was going,
who is man for three, I was at ease.

If you return there, Mr Sim?o,
be prepared for something worse.

I know very well you're not fearful.

But from a betrayal, no one escapes.

If you want me to go also,
I am at your disposal.

And the rifle which sentenced
the muleteer is still here

and still ready to spit fire,
as they say.

Thanks, my good friend.

I'll accept your good services
when I need them.

This night I'll go like last night.

Master Jo?o da Cruz did not reply.

From there he went
to minutely inspect the rifle...

and agree with his brother in law
about necessary precautions.

While he unloaded the weapon and
re-loaded it with some special shells,

which he called " Pinpoes nuts".


Is it certain your departure?

Yes, why not?

May the Virgin Mary go with you.

It's not convenient be near this door.

If the man falls dead, suspicions arise
over me and my uncle.

Stand back and beware
the horse's trampling.

Then hurry until you find him so
the gunfire will be done far from here.

- But who knows if yesterday he came
on horse and today on foot? - Right!

If on foot I'll be wary so you can follow
him until you have him in firing range.

- But far from here. - Yes sir,
but if he leaves from his father's...

and enters without giving us time?

I told you he won't.
Enough of talking.

Go hide behind the church
and don't fall asleep.

It's Jo?o da Cruz or the devil!

- Why is he here at this hour?
- I know!

- Do you suspect anything?
- No, if he would enter it'd be through us.

Don't you know
he worked for our master?

I also know he set up his store
with Baltazar's money.

- So what are you afraid of?
- Nothing.

I also know it was the magistrate
stopped him from being hung.

What of it? The magistrate doesn't care.
He doesn't even know his son's here.

Maybe but I'm not very happy.

- He's the devil!
- Let him be.

The bullets will hit him
just like any other.

No news but know, he could
already be under the horse...

with four holes in his chest.

- Is it you Jo?o?
- Yes, I came before you

Give me your hand. I want to feel in mine
the hand of an honored man.

In this way are men known.

Let's go. No time to talk.

- The doctor has someone waiting.
- Are you sure?

Behind the church
are two men I couldn't recognize,

but I'd swear
they are Mr Baltazar's servants.

Get down from your horse,
there's going to be a commotion.

I told you not to, but you came...

- Now there's no going back.
- I won't fear, Mr Jo?o.

I know, but faced with the enemy,
we'll see.

I'll head up with my brother in law.

You'll follow us at twenty paces.

I told you: I'm not afraid.

Do as I say, nobleman.

Let's go toward them for they passed
to the church?s other side.

Enter now, Doctor.
We?ll return to guard your exit.


Look. He went in. Now he's safe.

- If he doesn't stay inside.
- But here come two men,

and come straight at us.
Prepare your rifle.

Better to retire.
We await another, not these.

You run, cowards?


- You talk. I don't want to be recognised.
- Who orders to halt?

Three shotguns.

Delay them so the doctor
has time to leave.

We have already stopped.
What do you want?

- I want to know what you're doing here?
- And what about you?

I don't answer questions.
Who are you?

- Tell him, another step you'll blow him away.
- Another step, I'll blow you away.

- The silent one is Mr Jo?o da Cruz.
- Come with me. They know me.

Don't follow them!


Go! Go!

- Goodbye Teresa.
- Goodbye Sim?o.



Is the marriage decided?

There's no time to lose. Go back
whence you came and don't look back.

- I'll identify those vultures.
- Don't think about it!

Go, hurry.
We'll be with you later.

Do as you wish.
We won't take the path.

They wondered about the sudden
disappearance of Baltasar's guards

and were wary of having
to wait outside the city

The short-cut is
where the mountain curves.

They will pass through there
or they've already have.

The street is right over there.

The men will shoot from over there.
Let's make haste!

We won't be in time. The men will
shoot on you as the horse falls behind.

- The men will shoot.
- Let's call for the doctor to not proceed.

No time. If they kill or not,
when they return they're ours.

They had crossed the plain, fatigued and
anxious, their rifles always ready

Baltasar's guards, contrary to
the blacksmith's foresight,

...came back by the same short-cut,
supposing Sim?o's friends were far ahead

- Here they come.
- Here we are.

Sit down as well for I'm not in the mood
to run after them.

Shoot that one!

- Is it you nobleman?
- It is.

- Didn't they kill you?
- I believe not.

This fool let the man escape.

But mine went down.
I'll like to see his ugly mug!

Damn it. If I had two shotguns
he wouldn't be going alone to hell.

Leave that bastard,
the doctor is wounded!

I saw two heads peeking
and thought it was you.

I stopped my horse and said: "Any news?".
There was no reply.

I jumped to the ground but still
had my foot stuck when they fired.

This is just a scratch!

I know about this.
I'm an expert in curing wounds.

- Of donkeys, Mr Jo?o?
- Of Christians as well, sir.

There was a king in Portugal who wanted
as doctor, none other than a veterinarian.

I should show you my body,
which is a web of stabbings.

Is it that he's arming himself?

What is he doing there, all trembling?

He's there.
Hand me a gun, Mr Sim?o!

He's splitting wood
like a mountain pig.

Brother in law! Beat down this bush
with some rocks.

I want to see the boar
come out from the bush.

Be careful!..
Don't happen to shoot me.

The nobleman already walks?

Then he's surrounded.
I'll keep an eye from here.

If this one escapes nothing is safe
in this world.

He was not mistaken.

Baltazar Coutinho's brother in law when
thrown helplessly into the bushes...

dislocated a knee and fell stunned.

He dragged himself until he found
a dense wall of wild trees...

thinking there he might escape.

Light a fire and throw it in the woods.
This thief will die roasted.

Forgive me. I was obligated by my master
to this disgrace.

Don't hit a kneeling man like that.

- Get up, son.
- I can't sir.

I have broken my knee
and am injured for life.

Is this rascal still alive?

- Don't kill the man, Mr Jo?o.
- None of it. I'll tear him apart.

You wish to repay me with the gallows
for the favor of helping you?

- With the gallows?
- Right!

Do you want this man to live
to tell the tale? You find that right?

Your Lordship, as son of a minister
wouldn't be in danger.

But I, who am a blacksmith, can say
I have the cord already round my neck.

It doesn?t suit me.
Let me at this man.

Don't kill him, Mr Jo?o.
It's me who asks.

One witness can do no wrong.

What? Your Lordship is a doctor
and knows much...

but of justice you know nothing,
and you will forgive my forwardness.

Even one witness can lead
justice to betrayal.

Once things get moving, one eye
witness is enough, four for hearsay...

plus the nobleman from Castro Daire
moving some strings...

It's certain death.
Like 2 and 2 make 4!

I'll say nothing! Don't kill me!
I'll never go to Castro Daire again.

Let him be, Jo?o da Cruz.
Let's leave.

Yes, call Jo?o da Cruz, so this scoundrel
can take accounts with him.

I don't know what to think of your Lordship
wanting to leave alive a soul from the Devil,

- who fired upon you with intent.
- Well, yes. You're right.

But I don't know how to punish fools
who surrender.

And if he had killed you?
Should I have punished him? Respond sir.

- Let's leave.
- Let's leave?! Let's go.

Who an enemy spares,
dies by his hand.

My rifle was left by the bushes.

Get going. I'll be right back.

There's Jo?o taking justice
into his own hands.

Leave him, my lord.
He knows what he's doing.

You're cruel, Mr Jo?o.

I'm not.

The nobleman is mistaken.
It's like the proverb:

"Dying for the sake of dying,
let my father die as he's older"

It's the same, killing one or two.

One might as well be hung
for a sheep as a lamb.

Things should be finished
or, better yet, not even started.

Now my conscience is clean.

Let justice prove it, if it wants to,

but it won't be those two, who I gifted
the Devil, who'll tell.

Sim?o felt for an instant
a horror for the assassin...

and regretted being bound
to such a man.

Sim?o Botelho's suffering was delicate,

and the bandages could not
stop the flow of blood.

More than the pain
or fear of amputation,

he was anxious
to hear from Teresa.

May God permit your arrival without danger
at the house of those good people.

I do not know what is happening but
there are mysterious things I cannot guess.

My father had been the whole morning
closed with his cousin...

and does not let me
even leave the room.

They took away the ink pot,
but luckily I had another.

The Virgin Mary has sent a poor woman
to beg under my window.

If not I had no way of signaling her
to await this letter.

I don?t know what she said...

She spoke of dead servants but
I could not understand.

Your sister Rita is waving me
from the windows of your room.

She told me that my cousin's servants
had shown up dead near the street.

Now I know everything. I was going to say
you were there but they gave me no time.

My father, on the hour, passes through
the corridor, breathing heavily.

Oh, My dear Sim?o.
What will become of you?

Are you injured?

Will I be the cause of your death?

Sim?o responded,
wanting to calm Teresa's heart.

Of his injury he talked so briefly one
would think not even a bandage was needed.

He urged her to call him...

if the convent's threat
became real.

Teresa had finished reading and hidden
in her bosom Jo?o Botelho's response,

that the beggar handed her at dusk...

when her father entered her room
and ordered her to get dressed.

The girl obeyed,
taking a cape and a scarf.

Dress according to your status!
Remember you still have my surname.

I didn't believe
it was needed at night.

- And you know where you're going?
- No sir.

- Then get dressed and don't bother me.
- But father, hear me...

- Speak. - If your idea is
to force me to marry my cousin,

And if so?

I won't marry.

I'll die and happy, but won't marry.

Not even he wants you.

Your lady is unworthy
of marrying Baltazar Coutinho.

A man of my blood cannot accept
as a spouse a woman...

who walks at night speaking
to her lovers in the garden.

Dress yourself quickly.
You'll go to a convent.

Immediately, father.

That fate I asked you aplenty.

Spare me your thoughts.

Be here in a little while
already dressed.

Your cousins won't be long
to accompany you.

Tadeu de Albuquerque was accomplice
against the life of Sim?o.

It was his suggestion when Baltazar
discovered the cause of

Teresa's turmoil
on the night of the ball.

Both the elder and the squire befitted
to erase any hint

that could involve them in
the mystery of those two deaths.

The servants did not merit a fate
that might have dishonored their masters.

Teresa burst into tears
and wanted to write Sim?o.

At that hour who would take the letter?

She called to the Virgin whom
she had made confidant of her love.

Then she dressed, pressing against
her bosom a package containing

ink, paper and
a bundle of Sim?o's letters.

My father, I ask your permission to take
with me that devout image.

You shall have it.

If you'd have as much shame as devotion,

you'd be happier than you would be.

Lady, it is still in your hand to give
remedy to the disorder of this house.

- What remedy? - Tell your father you
won't refuse to wed brother Baltazar.

- Cousin Baltazar doesn't want me.
- Who told you that, Teresinha?

- My father.
- Let your father talk

for he's confused with the love
he has for you.

- Want me to talk to him?
- What for?

To remedy this way all of our misfortune.

You're joking, cousin. I'll be your
sister in law the day I have no heart.

Your brother is certain I love another.

I wanted to live for him.

But if you want me to die for him
I'll bless all my saints.

You can tell this to cousin Baltazar.
Tell him before you forget.

- Shall we go?
- I'm ready, father.

I'm freer than ever.

- What do you say?
- The heart's freedom is everything.

What do you say?

- I said I feel at ease here, "my lady".
- Don't say "my lady"

- What should I say?
- Say "Our mother superior".

Very well, mother superior.
I said I feel at ease here.

But who comes to this house
of the Lord doesn't come to feel well.

- No?
- Who comes here, miss...

comes to mortify her spirit and
leave outside mundane passions.

Here you have our
mother teacher of novices...

who's task is to direct you.

Teresa didn't reply.

She made a gesture of respect and
followed the path mother superior indicated.

When the Prioress
entered her chambers...

she told Teresa
she was her guest while there.

And added that she didn't know if her father
would choose this or another convent.

- What does it matter one or the other?
- It depends.

It might be you father would want you
to profess vows in a rich Order.

Profess? I do not wish to be nun
here or anywhere.

- You'll be what you father wishes.
- A nun? That no one can make me.

That's true but as the lady
has one year as novice...

time is not lacking to get used to this
life and you'll see there's none better

for the body
nor healthier for the soul.

Our mother has already said
no one comes here to feel well.

It's a way of speaking, Miss. We all have
our mortifications and obligations.

For the spirit isn't always
well disposed.

You see?

In comparison with the outside world,
the convent is paradise.

Here there are no passions nor cares
that deny our sleep or hunger.

God be blessed...

We live with each other
like God with the angels.

Well, here I leave you...

with our organist mother,

and our teacher of novices,

who can tell you better than I
what is the virtue in these holy places.

- Impostor.
- And so stupid!

Your lady mustn't trust her,

and watch if your father gives you
another companion while here,

for the mother superior is the
biggest schemer in the convent.

Though 60 she speaks about the passions
of the world as if she knows them well.

While young she was
the most scandalous nun.

Now old she is the most ridiculous.

Teresa, despite her pain,
could not help smiling,

remembering God's life with the angels
as those that lived there said,

as told by the prioress.

What do you think of
these religious ones here with you?

They seem decent.

What's done is done.

They're not the worst,
but you could have better luck.

Let's go, miss. Here's two chicken legs
and a soup fit for angels.

- I won't eat, my lady.
- What of it?

Don't eat? You will.

No one can resist without eating.

Passions... let the devil take them.

Women are the ones deceived
and they have nothing to lose.

I... until now...
Praise the Lord...

Don't know what passions are.

But one who has had
55 years of a convent

has experience
of seeing others suffer.

And without going farther...
the two that have just left

have paid dearly,
their tribute to stupidity.

God forgive me if I sin...

I was saying to this lady,

what kind they are,
the organist and the teacher.

Ohhh it's what they need.

They've gone to the gatekeeper's cell.

At this time the lady is being cut by
those tongues that pardon no one.

Will you see if you hear anything,
my flower?

This scribe isn't a bad girl.
Her only flaw is she likes a little drop.

She is well off,
but spends it all on wine.

Sometimes in the choir,
you can hear her snoring.

It's really a shame.

Well, the truth is that
she has no other flaws but...

She's a fine girl,
if it wasn't for that cursed vice.

Well, I must leave
but I'll be right back.

The convent... dear God.

This is a convent!

- Are you alone?
- Yes ma'am.

That stupid thing goes
and leaves the girl alone?

As you can see
she's the daughter of a tin-smith!

I should go to the choir,

but I won't,
to keep you company.

- Go ma'am, I'll be fine, alone.
- I won't, no!

You alone here should feel
terribly frightened

But the mother superior
should be right here.

I would bet she
was talking ill of me.

- No, on the contrary.
- Tell the truth, miss!

That swan speaks well of no one.

For her everyone's
a libertine or a drunk.

No, no ma'am.
She told me of no one.

Yes, and even if she did,
then let her.

The wine she doesn't drink...
she sucks it like a live sponge.

And as for the philandering...

I'd take as many cruzados
as lovers she's had!

You have no idea, miss.

Not the slightest idea...

She's as old as can be...

When I professed she was as old as now...
little difference

Now, I've been a nun for 26 years.

Figure out miss, the amount of tobacco
she's stuck up her nose.

Well, either you believe me or not,
I've known more than a dozen of her lovers.

Not speaking of the chaplain, who
to this day, still "fills her tank".

At our expense, mind you.
I'm a scribe, so I should know.

Don't me misled by her, my angel.

I know that your father prevented her
from letting you send or receive letters.

But look my dear, if you want
to write or be written,

tell them to send
the letter in my name.

My name is Dionisia

Dionisia da Imaculada Concei??o.

Much obliged, ma'am.

I wish I could send
a message to a poor...

Whatever you want!
I'll send it as soon as daybreak.

Don't trust anyone!
They're all false.

Here comes the worm.
Let's change the subject.

There's nothing better than life
in a convent.

When you have the fortune of having
a mother superior like ours.

Oh, it's you, miss?

Think I was talking ill of you?

I know you'd never do that.

- Why don't you go to choir, Nini?
- Now, it's late.

You'll absolve me of my absence, yes?
Sure, Sure.

But your penance is to drink a glass

- Of the stomachic?
- Precisely!

Teresa's heart filled with
bitterness and disgust...

in those two hours of convent life.

She ignored the world as it was.

What a sad disappointment and at
the same time, such anxiety to leave.

Don't fear for me, Sim?o.

All this work seem so light

if you compare it to all
that you have suffered for my love.

Misfortune does not shake
my firmness,

nor must it intimidate your plans.

They are stormy days
and nothing more.

Any resolution my father takes
I'll promptly inform you,

if possible
or as soon as possible.

To the absence of my news
you should always attribute

its impossibility.

Love me, this unfortunate,

because I believe the unfortunate

are the ones that
most need love and comfort.

I'll see if I can
forget myself, sleeping.

How sad all this is,
my dear friend.


Not even a year has passed when
they made three holes in my head,

when I went to
the lady of remedies in Lamego.

and it was her that shaved my head,
razor sharp.

For what I see, the nobleman's blood
tied the girl's stomach in a knot.

Hey girl! Mariana!

We're set then.

I have my life here and I'd wish
she were my patient's nurse.

Do you agree or not, girl?

With pleasure, if that's your will.

Then girl, if you're going to sew on
the porch come here to Mr Sim?o's side.

Give him soup regularly
and take care of his wound.

Vinegar and more vinegar when
it again becomes purple.

Speak with him. Don't let him
ramble or write much,

which isn't good
when you're weak in the head.

and your Lordship,
don't stand on ceremony,

nor say to Mariana

"Lady this... lady that."

Rather: "Girl, give me the soup!"

"Girl, clean my arm!"

"Give me the bandages!"

And not too polite.

She's here as your servant.

I've already said, if
it wasn't for your father

she'd be begging
for a long time by now,

or even worse.

It's true I could have left her
some goods,

the little I gained,
sweating over the anvil for 10 years.

If you have a humble house

you might wish to marry your daughter
into a farming house.

If she'd so wish,
husbands abound.

Even the ensign
of the Church's house wanted her,

if I'd donate him everything,

which isn't much
but is still a good 4,000 cruzados,

The fact is that the girl
doesn't want to marry

and I speaking the truth.

Sim?o was enjoying himself
in the simplicity of that rustic room,

but sublime in its naturalness.

Jo?o da Cruz was called
to shoe a horse

and before taking leave, said to
his daughter to tend the patient

and treat him is and if he were
her brother or husband.

It was nothing good, this plague
that fell upon your house, Mariana.

To make you the nurse of a patient.

To maybe deprive you
of sewing on your porch

and talking to the people
who pass by.

It's no trouble.

Sit down Mariana.

Your father told you to be seated.

Go get your needlework,

and give me the paper and pencil
that's in the wallet.

Father also said
not to let you write.

A little would do no harm.

Careful of what you do.

If a letter is lost
all will be discovered.

All what, Mariana?
Do you know something?

I'd have to be very foolish.

Your Lordship is there wounded

and everyone talks about the men
that showed up dead.

What do I have to do with them?

Why are you pretending? It seems like
your Lordship distrusts me

I hope no one knew,

so my father and Mr. Sim?o
won't have bigger problems.

You're right, Mariana.

I shouldn't hide from you
our encounter.

The worst is still to come.

No, Mariana. It ends this way.

I'll go to Coimbra once well
and the city girl stays at your place.

If so,

I've already promised 2 pounds of wax
to the Lord of the Cross.

But my heart doesn't tell me
you'll do what you say.

I don't know what I did to deserve
such friendship, Mariana.

Suffice to see
what your father did for mine.

I was still very young
when he was in the dungeon.

Maybe 13.

I was resolute to throw myself
in the well

if he was to be hung,
as everyone was saying.

I went on purpose to the city

to kiss you mother's feet

and saw your sisters.

The youngest gave me a silk skirt
I still have as a relic

Was it Rita?

I often saw you, Mr. Sim?o.

Maybe you don't know
I was at the fountain

when your Lordship,
two or three years ago,

gave a thrashing
to the servants,

causing such a commotion
it seemed like the world would end.

After... I never saw you... or...

But I already knew
you would come to this misery.

For I had a dream,

which had much blood

and I saw a very close friend of mine
in a pit so deep.

It's only a dream, Mariana.

Dreams, yes,

The city folk laughs at dreams,

but God knows what they say.

Here are my father's steps.

Let's hope it's not bad news.

While Sim?o read the letter
from the convent...

that Jo?o da Cruz had received
from the usual poor one,

Mariana fixed her big eyes
on the student's face.

Is it bad news?

You're sassy, girl!

Mr Jo?o:

let me have a friend in you daughter,

for the unfortunate are those
who know how to value friends.


but I wouldn't dare to ask
what the letter says.

Neither did I ask, my father.

It was because I felt Mr Sim?o
was afflicted while reading.

You weren't wrong.

Her father dragged her to the convent.

Always the same scoundrel!

While you write... I'll look after
the soup that's boiling.

Sim?o said in the letter to Teresa:

It is necessary to take you from there.

If you can't escape, those doors
will open before my anger.

Don't suffer with patience.
Fight with heroism!

Submission is a disgrace
when paternal power is a threat.

Call me!

I'll feel the loss of blood will not
diminish the strength of my heart.

- One thing frightens me, girl!
- What, father?

Our patient is without money.

Why? How do you know that?

He asked me for his wallet
to take out some money.

It weighed like a pig's bladder
full of wind.

This worries me.

I want to offer him money
but don't know how.

I'll think about it, father.

Very well.

Think about it,
you have better ideas than I do.

And if father wouldn't like
to touch his 400,

I have that money from my calves.

Eleven gold coins minus a fourth.

Yes... we'll talk.

Think how he can accept
without remorse.

Remorse in the less chaste
language of Mr Jo?o...

was synonymous with
scruples or disgust.

You won't have the soup today?

I can't. I have no appetite... miss.


Leave me alone for a while.

Go... Go!

Don't waste your time
around a boring, sick person.

You don't want me here?

I'll go and return when you call for me.

Sim?o wiped his tears and for a moment
thought about the girl's dedication,

but said nothing,

and began to think about
his prickly situation.

Money is vile and mundane.

A hero mustn't lower himself
by thinking about a lack of money

a moment after writing his
affected love a letter like that.

But it was money he was thinking of, when
Mariana brought him the rejected soup.

How would he repay
the hospitality of Jo?o?

How would he repay
Mariana's care?

If Teresa were to escape,
how would he provide for them?

He must write to his mother...
What would he say to her?

How would she explain
his residence at that house?

Would it give clues about the death
of Baltazar Coutinho's servants?

Tired of thinking...

he favored the providence of
the unfortunate with a deep sleep.

I'll do so, Mariana.
Give me your money.

I won't take the 400,000 reis
from under the fireplace stone.

Either one or the other.
It doesn't matter.

It's all yours.

Mariana hurried to the chest,

where she took a pouch
with money in silver...

and some necklaces,
rings and earrings.

Hid her gold and came with the pouch.

- You don't know?
- What is it, Mariana?

- Your mother knows you're here.
- She does?

That's impossible.
Who would tell her?

I don't know. What I know is
that she sent for my father.

- That amazes me! And she
didn't write me? - No, sir.

Maybe she knew you were here,

and thinks you are no longer.
Maybe that's why she didn't write.

- Could it be?
- It could.

But who'd tell her?

If it's known then
I'd be suspected of the men's deaths.

Maybe not... and if so,
there are no witnesses.

Father told me he feared not.
What will be will be.

Don't think about it now.

- I'll fetch your soup.
- If you want, Mariana.

Heavens gave me
the friendship of a sister.

With no shred of vanity, Sim?o surmised
he was loved by that sweet creature.

He believed it would be cruel of him
to show knowledge of such affection

as he had not soul to reward
nor lie to her.

Even so, very far from being afflicted...

The care of the gentle girl
flattered him.

- So much.
- Eat whatever you can.

And don't worry,
this dish is freshly served.

I thought you didn't eat yesterday as
you were intrigued by the other one.

No, Mariana. Don't be unfair.

I didn't eat yesterday for the same reason
I won't eat now.

I have no desire

But eat because I ask.
Forgive my boldness.

Just imagine it's as a sister
I ask you.

- You just told me - I have in you
the friendship of a sister.


Teresa's passionate lover did not
despise Mariana's love.

This is guilt in
the severe court of women.

But Sim?o Botelho's guilt
is of a weak nature,

that all splendor
on land, sky or sea...

and all the incoherences,
absurdities and vices in men...

that acclaimed himself as
the God of Creation.

And in this dynastic good faith...

he goes on living... and dying.

Has your father been arrested?

My heart tells me not
and it is never wrong.

And what does your heart say about me?
Will my sorrows end here?

I want to tell you the truth Mr Sim?o...
but I can't.

Speak, please, as I have faith
in the good angel who speaks in your soul.

- Speak.
- I will.

My heart tells me
your sorrows have only began.

Sim?o listened carefully
but did not respond.

The simple girl darkened his mood
with this threatening and offensive idea.

Does she think of swaying me
from Teresa to be loved?

I'm back.
Your mother sent for me.

I know.
And how did she know I was here?

She knew the nobleman was here...

but believed you had
already gone to Coimbra.

Who told her, I do not know,

nor asked,

with a respected person
you don't ask questions.

She said she knew the purpose
you were hidden here.

Something I missed...

But I settled her as best I could
and there should be no news.

She asked what you were doing here
after the noblewoman went to the convent.

I told her you were ill
after falling from a horse.

She asked again if you had money.

I told her I didn't know.

And she goes inside, comes back in
a little while with this package for you.

Here it is.
I don't how much it is.

And she didn't write?

She said she couldn't
as the desk was occupied.

She also recommended you not write
if not from Coimbra.

As if your father knew you were here...

It'd be devastating at home.

- Here it is.
- Did she not speak of Baltazar's servants?

Not a peep.

At the city nobody was even
talking about it today.

And what was said about D. Teresa?

Nothing. Maybe she went to the convent.

Now let me feed the horse,

as it's sweating profusely.

Mr Jo?o da Cruz?

Dear Jo?o.

If I had no money I would accept
your favors without trouble.

And I believe you would act so
without hope of interest...

but as I have received this amount

allow me to give you
part for my food.

The debts not paid
are reasons for gratitude

and are too many
for me ever to forget you...

and your good daughter.

Take this money.

Accounts are settled at the end and
nobody should hear of us, God willing.

If I need money,
I'll come.

For now the yard is full of chickens,
and bread is baked every week.

But accept it
and use it as you wish.

In my house I'm the master.

Keep your money, nobleman
and we shall talk of this no more.

if you want everything to go smoothly.


On the five following days, Sim?o
regularly received letters from Teresa.

Some resigned and comforting.

Others written in the exasperated
violence of longing.

One said:

My father must know you are there.

And while you are there, he will most
certainly not take me from the convent.

It would be best
if you went to Coimbra...

and let my father forget...

the latest happenings.

In another letter she wrote like this:

Don't abandon me, Sim?o.
Don't go to Coimbra.

I fear my father wants to move me
from this convent to a more severe one.

Above all, it discourages me
but doesn't bend me,

knowing it is my father's will
for me to profess.

For all I can imagine
violence and tyrannies,

none I see capable
of extracting my vows.

Our correspondence is impossible.

I'll be taken to another convent.

Expect news from me in Coimbra.

Mr. Jo?o!

Mr Jo?o?!

I'm coming... I'm coming.

Tadeu de Albuquerque's diligence
had swift success.

Taken all precautions...

he made known to his daughter, her aunt,
mother superior of Monchique's convent,

would want her in her company
for a while.

In such times Sim?o
wanted a comforting voice.

He wanted to call friend
someone who would be there for him.

The blacksmith heard his story
and gave his vote.

My advice is that
you should wait and see.

Wait? I'm going immediately to Viseu.

If you wish I'll go to the city...

and search for Brito,
a friend of mine.

daughter of a nun...and I'll take a letter
of yours to give to the noblewoman.

- Is it possible Mariana?
- What can be done will be done.

Get dressed Mariana,
for I'll saddle the horse.

How you have suffered,
noble heart of a woman so pure.

If what you do is gratitude for the man
who saved your father's life,

what rare virtue, is yours.

If you love him
and to ease his pain,

even free the path he flees,
forever from yourself...

what name should I give
to your heroism?

What angel fated you heart
for such obscure martyrdom?

I'm ready.

Here's the letter, dear friend.

Make all efforts
to come with an answer.

Is the money also for the lady?

No, It's for you, Mariana.

Buy a ring.

Don't use the whip often.

You're as yellow as cider.
What's wrong?

Nothing. What would be?
Give me the whip, father.

You're worth more than all
the noblewomen of Viseu.

For the finest of all
I wouldn't give my horse.

If the caliph of Morocco would come,
asking for my daughter...

Devil take me,
I wouldn't give her away!

These are women,

and the rest is history.

What a beautiful girl.

Such a beautiful girl.

Leave the girl alone and tell the servant
when to bring the wine.

Whenever you wish, lady prioress.

But take note of her eyes,
her figure.

In that whole of a girl...

But please note Father Jo?o,
I have other things to do.

- Where are you from?
- The village.

That I see, but from which one?

- I won't confess now.
- It wouldn't hurt you confess to me, child.

- I'm a priest.
- So I see.

- What bad temper!
- I am as you see me.

Who do you search here?

That I've already told.

Mariana? Is it you?

Come here.

- I wanted to speak in private, Joaquina.
- I'll see about that, wait here.

Mariana had examined, one by one,
the monastery's windows.

In one of the windows
through the iron bars,

she saw a woman without habit.

"Was she the one?"
Asked her ever palpitating heart.

And thought:

- If I were to be loved as she...
- Mariana!

Climb those stairs and enter the first door
in the corridor. I'll be right there.

Joaquina, who was that girl so pale,
white as milk...

- who was there at the window
when I arrived? - Some novice maybe.

- There are two very beautiful here.
- But she had no habit.

Ahh, I know.
it's D. Teresinha Albuquerque.

- Then I was not mistaken.
- Do you know her?

No, but it is because of her
I came here today.

What is it? What's with you
and the noblewoman?

Myself nothing... but I know someone
who wants her dearly.

- The magistrate's son?
- Exactly.

But he's in Coimbra.

I do not know.

- Can you do me a favor?
- If I can.

You can.
I would like to speak to her.

Oh Devil!
I don't know if it is possible!

The nuns keep her under observation
and she leaves tomorrow.

And what do you want from her?

I can't say as I do not know.

I wanted to give her a letter.

Have her come here and
I'll give you cloth for a dress.

How rich you are, Mariana!

I don't want your cloth, girl.

If I'm able to tell her without
being heard, I'll do so.

And now is a good time,
the bell has just rung.

Joaquina succeeded
with her difficult mission.

Teresa was alone absorbed in thought...

and fixed her eyes
where she saw Mariana.

When the servant called, Teresa
followed her and entered the little room.

Be quick, knock from the inside,
so that I can open the door.

If someone asks for you, I will
say that you are on the lookout.

I'm the carrier of this letter
for your Excellency.

- Sim?o!
- Yes, my lady.

I can't write him for my ink was stolen
and nobody lends me theirs.

Tell him I leave at dawn for
Monchique convent in Porto.

That he's not to worry
for I'm always the same.

For him not to come here, for it
would be useless and dangerous.

Tell him to go see me at Porto for
I'll manage a way to talk to him.

- Will you tell him?
- Yes, my lady.

Don't forget.
He should never come here.

It's impossible to escape
and I'm well accompanied.

Cousin Baltazar, my cousins and
my father are all going,

and I don't know how many servants.

Taking me away during the trip
would have terrible results.

Will you tell him everything?

Lady, beware, the mother superior
is inside searching for you.


Take this souvenir
as proof of my gratitude.

I can't accept, my lady.

Why not?

Because I made you no favors.

If I'd take a reward, it would
be from the one who sent me.

Be with God, my lady...

and may you be happy.

Mariana said to herself:

Wasn't it enough
being noble and rich,

but also as beautiful
as I have ever seen.

Sim?o, from the window of his
room, scanned the road.

At the sight of Mariana,
he dropped into the yard carelessly,

forgetting about the wound.

The blacksmith's daughter
faithfully gave him the message.

Sim?o heard it placidly

until the point when she said that
Baltasar would accompany Teresa to Porto.

It's always the cousin Baltasar,
digging her grave and mine!

His! May he die and may 30
million devils come take him!

But as long as my name is Jo?o,
your lordship must live.

Let her go to Porto, she won't
be in danger in the convent.

- I must see her before she leaves.
- She recommended you not to go.

- Because of her cousin?
- I think so.

And maybe because it
won't serve you anything.

If you want that woman,
you must get her.

Father, do not put this man in trouble.

I have no doubts, girl. It's me who
doesn't want to put anyone to trouble.

As great as my misfortune is,
I must fight it alone.

Mr Sim?o, do not address
these problems by yourself,

because when they start to torture
someone, they won't give them peace.


May the devil take them!

Let her go with
God or with the devil.

If she has to be yours, you'll know.

This can go both forward or back,

says an old proverb.

This is not fear, nobleman.

Jo?o da Cruz knows how
to put two men out of the game

but doesn't know what fear is.

If you want to free this
person from her father,

her cousin and a regiment if necessary,

I'll ride the horse and I'll be back
in three hours with four men.

Father, do not give him this advice.

Shut up!

Go prepare the mare and give her food.

You have no business here.

Don't be anxious, Mrs. Mariana.

I won't follow the advice
of your father.

I gladly listen to him because I know
that he wishes me the best,

but I'll do what my honor
and heart tell me.

I consider you lost, Teresa.

Perhaps I won't see the sun tomorrow.

Everything around me
has the color of death.

It seems that the cold of my tomb

is coursing through my blood and bones.

I can't be what you wanted me to be.

My passion does
not conform to misfortune.

You were my life

and I was sure that the setbacks
would not keep us apart.

Merely the fear of losing you kills me.

What remains for me from the past

is courage to seek a death
worthy of us both.

Maybe you can bear a slow agony,

I cannot stand it.

I could live with an unfortunate passion,

but this grudge without revenge is hell.

My life won't be given cheaply.


You shall be without me, Teresa,

but there won't be an infamous one
chasing you after my death.

I am jealous of all your hours.

You will think about your husband
in heaven with nostalgia

and you will never take your
soul's eyes away from me,

to see by your side,

the wretch who destroyed
our beautiful hope.

You will see this letter
when I am dead

and waiting for the
prayers of your tears.

With your love you have
given me faith, Teresa.

I still believe that your
light will never die,

but the divine providence
has abandoned me.

Remember me.

Live to tell the world,
with your loyalty to a shadow,

why you dragged me into the abyss.

You will listen with glory
to the voice of the world,

telling that you were worthy of me.

When you read this letter...

It will be the last time that I lay
the table for you in my house.

Why do you say it, Mariana?

My heart tells me so.

Do you cry because you
feel sorry for me, Mariana?

Yes, because I believe
I won't see you again,

but if it happens again, I would
prefer to die rather than see you.

It won't be like that, my friend.

Could your lordship
do something for me?

It depends on what you ask.

Do not go out either
today or tomorrow.

You ask for the impossible, Mariana.

I would kill myself if I didn't leave.

So forgive my effrontery.

May God protect you.

The girl told her father of
the student's intentions.

Master Jo?o tried to dissuade
him from leaving,

citing his injury as an excuse.

Then, because he
could not dissuade him,

decided to accompany him.

It's ready.

The rifle is charged and the
mare has received a double ration.

When the student told him
that he would not go to Viseu

and that he would follow Teresa to
Porto after the convalescence,

Jo?o da Cruz suddenly believed him.

But Mariana, always attentive
to the prompting of her heart,

doubted the change of mind and asked
her father to monitor the nobleman.

I will remain here to ask
the Virgin Mary to accompany you.

Sim?o heard his intimate voice saying:

"Your guardian angel speaks
through that woman

that has no other intelligence
than that of the heart. "

Embrace your father for me.
Goodbye and see you soon.

Until the final judgment!

Fate must be fulfilled,
if God is willing.

Sim?o disappeared among the shadows

when Mariana turned on
the light of the sanctuary

and prayed with the fervor of tears.

Sim?o examined one by one
the windows of the convent.

In none he saw a flash of light.

The only light was that of
the lamp of Sacramento

that filtered opaque and pale
from an opening of the church.

No whining, uncle!

It would be a disgrace
if you were to marry.

In less than a year
you will be healed.

A year in a convent is a
great emetic for the heart.

It's ideal for purifying the defects

of the hearts of young
girls educated with discretion.

If you had educated her to be blindly
obedient when she was young,

she wouldn't be empowered
to choose her husband.

- She was an only child, Baltasar.
- For that very reason.

If you had another, the
loss would be less painful

and less disastrous her disobedience.

You could have given everything
to the most beloved daughter

and disinherited the eldest
with a regional permit.

So instead I see no other remedy.


I am here, sir.

- There is still time.
- Time for what?

- To be a good daughter.
- I do not think I'm not.

And this one...

Do you want to go home
and forget the damned one

that makes us all wretched?

No, my father. My fate is the convent.

Not even dead will I forget him.

I'll be a disobedient daughter,
but never a liar.

Not even here!

- Will you talk to me, cousin Teresa?
- With you, yes.

Not even here will your
odious presence leave me?

I am one of the servants who
are accompanying you.

Until a few days ago, I had two
worthy to accompany you,

but they were killed.

- In their place, I offer myself.
- I dispense your delicacy.

I cannot, due to the lack of
my two faithful servants.

And it should be like that, because
only cowards hide behind their servants.

The accounts were not
settled yet, cousin.


It was imaginable that
the infamous would come here.

Infamous? Me? And why?

Infamous murderer!
Disappear from my sight!

This man is an idiot! I won't
argue with your lordship.

My lady, suffer with resignation
like I'm doing.

Carry your cross without
cursing violence

and perhaps, in the middle
of your ordeal,

divine mercy will double your strength.

- What is this scoundrel saying?
- He came here to insult you, my uncle.

He comes here and comforts
your daughter with evilness!

This is too much!

I'll kill you here, villain.

Villain is the wretch that
threatens me without coming closer.

I won't punish you in the
presence of my uncle's servants

that you believe are my
defenders, scoundrel!

If that is so, I hope I never
encounter your lordship again.

You are so cowardly and without dignity
that I would have to whip you.

Baltasar Coutinho rushed
impetuously against Sim?o.

He tried to squeeze his throat, but
quickly lost the force on his fingers.

When the ladies were able to
interpose between the two,

Baltasar had his skull
pierced by a bullet,

wavered a second and fell
lifeless at the feet of Teresa.

Hate. Hatred, yes, against
the false virtues of men

that become barbarians
in the name of their honor.

Eighteen years!

Kill him! Kill him!

Run, the mare is down the street.

I won't run, save yourself.

Run, it won't take long before
the soldiers arrive.

I have already said that I won't run.

You are lost!

I already was.

Go away, my dear friend,
I ask for your daughter's sake.

You can be useful to me, run.

All doors and windows opened
when the blacksmith fled.

One of the first to go out to
the street was the bailiff.

Arrest him, he's a murderer!

- Who?
- Me.

Your Lordship?

Come, I will let you run.

No, I stand arrested.

Here are my weapons.

Tadeu de Albuquerque, when
he recovered from the spasm,

put his daughter in a litter

and ordered two servants to
accompany her to Porto.

Baltasar's sisters followed his
corpse to the house of his uncle.

What's this fuss?

D. Rita!

D. Rita!

What's this fuss?
Who's shouting?

You are the loudest screamer.

It's me.

- Who's crying?
- Your daughters.

And why?


Alright. Sim?o has killed a man.

In Coimbra? And you make all
this noise because of that?

Not in Coimbra, but here in Viseu.

Do you make fun of me?

The boy is in Coimbra
and kills in Viseu?

This is a case not covered
by the laws of the Kingdom.

You seem to be joking.

Today at dawn your son
killed Baltasar Coutinho,

cousin of Tadeu de Albuquerque.

- Was he arrested?
- He's with the bailiff.

Let me call the officer.

Do you know how and
why this death occurred?

- Let me call the bailiff!
- Why don't you go to his house?

- What am I going to do there?
- To know more about your son.

I'm not a father, I'm a judge!

It isn't up to me to question him!

And I do not want to hear them whining!

Tell the girls to stop or
they'll be put in the garden!

The bailiff reported everything he knew.

It was the love for the daughter of
Albuquerque to cause that disaster.

The judge shall comply with the law!

If he isn't strict,
I will force him to be.

Why do you talk like this of your son?

I am a judge and I don't protect killers

motivated by jealousy for
the daughter of a man I hate.

I would rather see him dead
than related to that family.

I have written him many times saying
that I would expel him from home.

D. Rita, due to her motherly
affection and spirit of contradiction

quickly protested,

but had to desist when confronted
with her husband's wrath.


In things of little importance,
your intrusion would be tolerable,

but in matters of honor,
I won't tolerate it.

At this point, the provincial judge
entered the waiting room.

The judge went to receive him
not with the appearance

of someone begging for indulgence,
instead he was frowning.

It seemed he was going
to criticize the judge

because his visit could suggest
a lack of impartiality.

My condolences for your son's misfortune.

Thank you, your lordship.

I know everything.

- Has the process been initiated?
- I had to accept the complaint.

If you had not done so,
I would have obliged you.

The situation of Sim?o is serious.

He confesses that he killed the
executioner of the woman he loves.

He has done very well.

I asked him if he had
acted in self-defense.

He replied that in that case he would
have used the boot, not the gun.

I tried to make him give answers

that would show insanity,

but he answered with great
consistency and presence of mind

which shows that this premeditated murder
was executed in full consciousness.

Your lordship is in a sad situation.

I wanted to help him, but I can't.

I can't and I won't!

- Is he in prison?
- Not yet, he's in my house.

Do you want me to prepare
his incarceration?

I don't order anything.

Pretend that Sim?o isn't my relative.

But Your Lordship is his father!

- I am a judge.
- Your severity is excessive.

The law will punish him, don't do
it yourself with your hatred.

I don't hate him, sir. I don't
recognize that man of whom you speak.

As a judge, do what your
duties order you,

the friend will thank you
later for your kindness.

I've just talked to your father.

He's angrier than I had expected.

For now, you can't count on
his influence or his patronage.

- What does it matter?
- It matters a lot, Mr. Botelho.

If your father wanted to,
I could sweeten your sentence.

What does the sentence matter to me?

Don't you mind being
sent to the gallows?

- No, sir.
- What are you saying, Mr. Sim?o?

My heart is indifferent to
the fate of my head.

Your father won't guarantee
your basic necessities in jail.

I wasn't aware.
And what about it?

What's the difference between
starving to death and the gallows?

- Write to your mother.
- What should I ask?

To soften the anger of your father or
else you will have nothing to eat.

You think I'm a wretch who
cares about eating.

It's not up to you to take
care of my stomach.

Of course not. Do as you like.

He handed the culprit to the bailiff

asking the guard not to call
reinforcements to accompany him.

A prisoner lent you this chair.

The birth certificate of Sim?o,

written by the pastor of the
church of Our Lady of Ajuda,

shows us the following fact:

On the second day of the
month of May 1784,

Sim?o, in danger of life,
was baptized at home.

Your mother sends it secretly.

Wretched, you're lost!

I can't help you because your
father is being relentless.

Secretly I've sent you lunch and I
don't know if I can send you dinner.

What a destiny you have!

If only you had died at birth!

I was told that you were born dead,

but your fatal destiny didn't
want to abandon the victim.

Why did you leave Coimbra?

What have you done?

Now I know you've lived outside
Coimbra for a fortnight

and you never said anything
to your mother.

Sim?o thought to himself:

"How can we explain this?

Didn't my mother call Jo?o da Cruz

Wasn't she the one
who sent me money?"

Lunch is getting cold, boy.

You must be without money and
unfortunately I can't send you anything.

Your brother, since he escaped
to Spain, absorbs all my savings.

We'll see, after a while, what I can do,

but I fear that your father
wants to bring us to Vila Real

to abandon your process
to the severity of the laws.

My poor Sim?o!

Where were you hidden for fifteen
days? I can't stand this anymore.

Your father has already beaten Ritinha
because she wanted to visit you.

Count on the little value
that your mother has

close to an angry man like your father.

Sim?o Botelho reflected
for a few minutes.

He convinced himself that the
money received was from Jo?o da Cruz.

When he abandoned these thoughts,
he had tears in his eyes.

Don't weep, boy. God will
do the best he can.

Dine, Mr Sim?o.

- Take away the lunch.
- You do not want to eat?

No, and don't come back here.

I have no family, I don't want anything
from the house of my father.

Tell my mother that I'm
calm, well-housed, happy

and proud of my fate.

Go away.

The servant said to the jailer that
his hapless boss was mad.

D. Rita found the suspicion
of the servant to be likely

and found confirmation of the
folly in the words of her son.

When the jailer came back to Sim?o, he
entered accompanied by a country girl.

The jailer left and said to himself:

"This one is much more beautiful
than the noblewoman."

I don't want to see tears, Mariana.

It's me the one who should
shed some tears,

tears worthy of me,

tears of gratitude for the favors
received from you and from your father.

My mother has never sent me money.

It was from your father
the money I received.

- Did your father run into any danger?
- No, sir.

- Is he at home?
- Yes, he seems to be furious.

He wanted to come,
but I wouldn't let him.

- Did anybody chase him?
- No, sir.

Tell him not to be alarmed
and go comfort him.

I can't go back without
having done what he said.

I must leave, I'll come back soon.

Buy a table, a chair,
ink and paper for me.

Everything will be here soon.

My father told me not to buy anything

before knowing whether your family
would send you the necessary.

I have no family, Mariana.

- Take the money.
- Not without the permission of my father.

For these expenses you have
given me too much money.

How's your wound?

I don't even remember it.
It doesn't hurt me.

- Anything about D. Teresa?
- I heard that she went to Porto.

Her father has put her
unconscious on the litter

and there are many people at his door.

Very good, Mariana.
There's no wretch without a pair.

Go, think of your guest,
be his merciful angel.

Have patience. You won't die abandoned.

Pretend a sister appeared today.

It's not a good lunch.

Biscuits and a cinnamon liqueur,
I didn't find anything else.

That same day, the judge ordered his
wife and daughters to prepare themselves

to leave the next day with everything
that could be carried on horseback

The next day, at dawn,
we left for Vila Real.

Mom was always crying.
Dad, angry because of this,

climbed down from the litter
he shared with her,

made me take his place and
made the entire trip on my horse.

As soon as we arrived in Vila Real,

disputes because of Sim?o
were so frequent

that my father abandoned the family and
went to the estate of Montezelos.

Even my mother wanted to abandon
us and go to her cousins in Lisbon

in order to urge the
release of our brother.

But dad astoundingly changed
attitude when he discovered

and threatened my mother
that he would legally force her

not to leave the house
of her husband and daughters.

From time to time we received sad news,

because, in the absence of my father,

all the nobles of Viseu, as expected,

conspired against my
unfortunate brother.

My mother wrote to her
relatives in the capital

imploring a royal pardon for her son.

But all of those letters ended
up in the hands of my father.

My mother one day asked
permission to go to Viseu.

My father denied it and
railed against her furiously.

After seven months,

we came to know that Sim?o had
been condemned to the gallows.

On the gallows erected in the place
where he had committed the murder.

The windows stayed closed for eight
days, we were dressed in mourning

and my mother became ill.

When word came to Vila Real,

all the illustrious people of
the area went to Montezelos

to convince my father
to use his influence

to save his convicted son.

Some relatives came from Lisbon
to protest against such infamy

that would cast shame on the family.

My father replied to all
with these words:

"The gallows was not only invented

for those who do not know
the name of their ancestors.

The shame of a family are the evil deeds.

Justice dishonors only
the one that it condemns."

After being taken to his room,
he was told that he could appeal.

He said that he wouldn't

and that he was pleased with his luck
and his agreement with justice.

He asked for Mariana and the jailer said
he would call for her.

Jo?o da Cruz arrived in tears,
afraid of losing his daughter

because she was delirious, speaking of
gallows and demanding to be killed first.

Take care of your daughter.

Let me be.
I'm vigorous and healthy.

Go comfort this creature that
was born under my bad star.

Take her away from Viseu,
take her home.

Save her so there'll remain in the world
two sisters to cry for me.

The favors you've done for me are now
dispensable given my short life.

In a few days I'll be
lead to the oratory.

And it's better if your
daughter doesn't know.

When he returned, Jo?o da Cruz found
his daughter prostrated on the floor.

With wounds on her face, she laughed
and cried. Out of her mind.

He led her home, tied

and appointed another person
to support the convict.

Teresa's fragile constitution was
deteriorating quickly.

Science condemned her
to a prompt death.

This information was passed
to Tadeu de Albuquerque.

I don't want my daughter to die,

but if God takes her,
I'll die in peace

and my honor
without stain.

How immaculate was the honor
of the nobleman of Viseu!

A nun inadvertently told her

that Sim?o
was sentenced to death.

And I am still alive!

She smiled at the angel of death

and asked him to wrap her,
along with her love and hope,

in the darkness of his wings.

Would you do me the favor
of delivering a letter to Sim?o

through your friend in
the convent Dos Remedios?

I believe so.
I'll do my best.

Give me a pen and paper
and may God bless you, dear.

Sim?o, my husband, I know everything.
Death is with us.

Know that I write to you without tears.

My agony began seven months ago.

God is kind,
and spared me of the crime.

This is our end, Sim?o!

Keep our hopes!

Eternity seems to be dark

since hope was the light that
guided me from you towards faith.

But our destiny
cannot finish this way.

Try to hold to the last threads of
your life with some kind of hope.

Will we see each other in
another world, Sim?o?

Can we contemplate God?

It doesn't matter if there's
nothing beyond this life.

At least dying is forgetting.

If you could still live,
what would it serve?

I am also condemned
and without hope.

Follow me, Sim?o!

Accept death!
Don't you regret.

If there was a crime,
God's justice will forgive you

for the torment you've
been suffering in prison

and in the last days before...

Teresa was about to write a word,

when a convulsion shook her body.

She didn't write the word,

but the idea of the gallows
stopped her life.

In the three following days,
Teresa didn't get out of bed.

The nuns who attended her
were expecting her to die.

"It's hard to die,"
said the sick woman sometimes.

It's hard to die.

There were no lack of merciful speeches
to distract the spirit from the world.

Teresa listened and said anxiously...

The hope of heaven...

Without him, what is
heaven, my God?

Domingos Botelho had an old and
revered uncle called Ant?nio da Veiga.

It was him who
performed the miracle.

His nephew was planting a vine,
and he joined him.

God has kept me alive
until eighty.

I could live for one or two years more,

but this is no longer living.

So far it has been a life with honor
and without sin!

And that's how it will end.

My eyes will not see the
disgrace of your family.

Domingos Botelho, either promise me that you
will save your son from the gallows,

or I, in your presence
and of these people,

will kill myself!

All right.

Sim?o will not be hanged.

The next day, Domingos Botelho
went to Porto to see some friends

and from there went to Lisbon.

Don't escape yet, Teresa.

I no longer see
the gallows or death.

My father protects me,
salvation is possible.

Hold to your heart the
last threads of your life.

Prolong your agony until
I tell you there's still hope.

Tomorrow I'll go to
a prison in Porto

and then I'll wait for absolution or
commutation of the sentence.

Everywhere there's sky,
flowers and God.

If you live,
one day you will be free.

The gravestone can never be lifted.

Live, Teresa, live!

Yesterday I saw our stars,

those of our secrets in
the nights we were apart.

I came back to life and
my heart is full of hope.

Do not die, life of my life!

It was late at night when Teresa
read Sim?o's letter.

She called the housemaid
to help her dress.

That night the shining moon

eclipsed the brightness of the stars
Teresa was looking for in the sky.

- Those are the ones.
- What, my lady?

My stars, pale as I am.

I want to live!
Let me live, Lord!

You will live!
God is merciful.

But you shouldn't be in the open at night,
the humidity of the river is bad for you.

Let me, this is living!

It's been so long since
I've seen the sky!

I feel resurrected in here.

Why haven't I breathed
this air every night?

Could I live a few years more?

Can I, my dear Constan?a?

Sim?o lives
and he wants me alive.

Sim?o is going to Porto.

- Did you receive a letter from him?
- Yes.

Want to hear?
I'll read it to you.

Don't escape yet, Teresa.

I no longer see
the gallows or death.

My father protects me,
salvation is possible.

Hold to your heart
the last threads of your life.

Prolong your agony until
I tell you there's still hope.

What if I die? What if I die, my God?

Everyone says I will die and the doctor
no longer prescribes me anything.

It would've been better
I had died already.

Dying with hope, Mother of God!

She knelt before the sacred image
which she had brought from Viseu,

to which her mother and
grandmother had already prayed

and in whose compassionate face
had been extinguished

the last rays of light
of the two dying women.

Don't think I'm crying
because I'm afflicted, cousin.

Our angel, God willing,
can be saved.

This morning I saw her walking
in the corridors.

Her face looks so
different today.

If she keeps improving so,
we'll have Teresa back. It's a miracle.

I am very happy,
my dear cousin.

I want to take her to Viseu,
there she will recover.

It's very soon for such a
long and difficult journey.

Let her stay a few more months
before taking her,

for now I do not approve
of such imprudence.

Greater imprudence would be
leaving her in Porto,

where our cousin's evil murderer
must already be.

Don't you know?

The judge is a scoundrel and
managed to get the appeal.

I'm now working so
the sentence is confirmed,

but as long as that murderer is in here,
I do not want my daughter in Porto.

You are her father,
I am just a relative.

Let your will be done.

- You want to see her, right?
- Yes, if possible.

All right, wait.
Teresa will come here.

Look at the way we're meeting! Why
didn't you tell me about your condition?

I'm not as bad
as my friends think.

Do you have the strength
to go with me to Viseu?

I barely have the strength to
tell you I won't go back to Viseu.

- Your health depends on it.
- No, on the contrary.

- Here I will live and die.
- Not really, Teresa.

This air harmful to your health,
you have to come.

My duty is to guide
and correct your bad fate.

It's already corrected,

- Death amends all errors.
- I know, but I want you alive.

After the trip, you'll see how
miraculously your health will return.

- I'm not going, dad.
- You're not?

We're separated by these bars,

- We'll always be separated.
- And the law? Don't you know you're only 18?

Yes, I know that. I don't know the law,
and I'm not worried about my ignorance.

It's possible that a violent hand will
come and take me away from here

but convince yourself, father,
that this hand will hold a corpse.

Then you can do what
you want with me.

As long as I can say that I'm not going,
I swear I won't.

- Do you know that the murderer is in Porto?
- Yes, I know, sir.

You say it without any shame
or horror! Yet...

I can't continue to listen,
my father, I feel ill.

Please excuse me,
and seek revenge as you like.

Being hanged along with the
murderer would be my glory in this torment.

It's alright, I'm good.
These blows are reassuring, aunt.

What's happening, cousin?

I want Teresa out of here.

And who is going to take her out?

You will. You can't keep her
against the will of her father.

That is true,
but be careful, cousin.

I don't care! I want my
daughter out of here.

- She doesn't want to go.
- No, madam.

I'm sure we can convince her,
there's no need to use force.

Open these doors
and I'll take her.

These doors can't be open without
the permission of a superior.

Rest assured.

Go cure this frenzy,

and come back another time
so we can find a solution.

I see. You're all
conspiring against me!

I don't want my daughter to receive
any more letters from that murderer!

I believe Teresa has never
received letters from him

and don't think she'll receive
them from now on.

Who cares what you think?
I'll watch the convent.

I want the maid that's with
her to be thrown out.


I instructed her to tell me
everything and she's not doing so.

- She had nothing to say, sir.
- Don't try to fool me.

I want that maid out
of the convent now!

I can't do that,
I don't like injustice.

If you want your daughter to
have another maid, send her,

but the one she has now will
serve many ladies in this house

if she wants to.

I see, you want to kill me!

But you won't succeed,
unless the devil intervenes!

Tadeu de Albuquerque
presented himself to the police,

requesting to have
his daughter given to him.

The officer said that was
not within his competence.

Enraged, he went to the judge
of Porto with an arrogant tone.

The next day, he spoke to
see some appellate judges.

One of them was a childhood
friend of D. Rita Preciosa,

who said this to the nobleman...

It doesn't take much to
become a murderer, Mr. Albuquerque.

How many deaths
would you have caused today

if anyone had
objected to your anger?

This unfortunate boy, against
whom you request excessive violence,

keeps his dignity
amidst his great misfortune.

His father has abandoned him,

but he has never
uttered a cry for help.

There is greatness in this
18-year-old man, Mr. Albuquerque.

If you weren't opposed to his honest
and innocent affections for your daughter,

justice wouldn't have
sent him to the gallows

and your nephew's life wouldn't
have been wasted on your whims.

If your daughter had married
the son of the judge of Viseu,

do you really think your
blazon would've been dishonored?

I don't know how far back the aristocracy
of the Lord Tadeu de Albuquerque goes,

but in the blazon of D. Rita Teresa
Preciosa Caldeir?o Castelo Branco

you can find the most veracious and
illustrious genealogies of the Kingdom.

On the father's side, Sim?o Botelho,
he has the blood of Tr?s-os-Montes

and he won't dare to
compete with Albuquerque de Viseu

which aren't the "terrible Albuquerques"
that Luis de Cam?es wrote about.

The truth is bitter, isn't it?

Your Excellency
knows well what you say,

but I know what to do.

Do as you want,
but be assured,

that Sim?o Botelho
will not be hanged.

We shall see!

It's the 13th day of March, 1805.

Sim?o is in a secret
prison cell in Rela??o.

This trunk contains
the letters from Teresa,

bouquets of dried flowers,
his manuscripts from the prison in Viseu

and an apron of Mariana,

the one where she,
on the day of the trial,

dried her tears in
her first moment of dementia.

A day of love and hope was when

the Master sent him to the cabin
stuck in the throat of the mountains,

to the opulent walking
in his lazy accoutre

and the beggar who stretched
next to the columns of the temple.

Our daily bread...

and your breast, to rest my stainless face,

that is all I ask from heaven.

I've felt like a man at 17.

I've seen the
virtue in the light of love.

I thought it was holy, the
passion that absorbed all others

or purified with it's holy fire.

Tell me, Teresa, if my lips have
profaned the purity of your ears.

Never, Teresa! Never!

Oh, world, you condemn me!

If you ordered me to die so you
could be happy with another man,

I would, Teresa!

But you were lonely and unhappy

and I thought your
executioner would not survive.

Here I am a murderer,
without any remorse.

You're here?

What about Mariana? Did you
leave her alone? Or has she died?

She's neither alone or dead.

The devil is not always lurking.

Mariana has come to her senses.

- You're telling the truth, Mr. Jo?o?
- Of course!

That was witchcraft, in my opinion.

Bleeding, cold water on the head,
exorcisms done by the missionary

and now the girl is healed.

- God be praised!
- Amen.

But what is this house?

What the hell is this plank-bed?

There's need of a proper
bed and something to sit on.

- It's good enough this way.
- I see.

What about the food?

- I still have money, my dear friend.
- You must have a lot.

But I have more
and it is at your disposal.

See this letter.

"Jo?o da Cruz is
authorized to help my son, Sim?o,

making all the necessary expenses.

I pledge to pay
all the notes with his signature.

It is fair, because I must
have my share of the inheritance.

Order it and I'll
buy what is necessary.

Open your heart to
more valuable services.

Tell me, nobleman.

You'll deliver a letter to Monchique,
addressed to Teresa de Albuquerque.

Apparently, the devil
likes to gamble with me!

Give me the letter.

- Her father is here. Did you know?
- No.

He's here.

And if the devil manages
that we cross the same path

maybe I will have him hanged
by the neck to a cork oak.

Must the letter have an answer?

If you receive one, my good friend.

The blacksmith arrived
while an officer of justice,

two doctors and Tadeu de Albuquerque
were in the courtyard of the convent.

The judge ordered

that the two doctors went in to examine
the invalid at the request of her father.

Do you have the church's
permission to enter Monchique?

No, we don't have it, but...

Without ecclesiastical permission
no one can enter the convent.

The doctors told Tadeu de Albuquerque
that's how it worked in the monasteries

and there was nothing to argue.

The blacksmith reflected
on how he would deliver the letter.

- Mother!
- What do you want?

Could you tell
Madame Teresa de Viseu

that the father of the girl
she knows in the countryside is here?

- Who are you?
- The father of the girl from the countryside.

I know him.

- Think of what you're doing.
- Your daughter wrote to me?

Yes, madam, here's
the letter. I'll put it here.

Love is very ingenious.

I hope that news of the girl in the
countryside will rejoice your heart!

Teresa responded with kisses
to the joviality of the saint lady

and retreated to read
the letter and write a reply.

Do you see that poor thing?

Yes I see,
madam, and I know her.

How the hell did
she end up here?

I thought that after that
dressing down the poor thing...

Keep your voice down. When you
bring the letters, deliver them to her.

I've already sent her to the
prison, but they did not let her in

All right, I think
it's a good solution.

- Give me your letter, may God be with you.
- I'll give it to you here.

Divine providence
had pity on Sim?o that day.

The return to senses of Mariana
and being able to correspond with Teresa

were the greatest joys
that could have fallen from the sky.

I will tell you another thing that
I had no intention of telling you now.


Mariana came with me, and
due to pains remained at the inn,

but tomorrow she'll be here to
prepare food and sweep the house.

My bad luck is dragging
your daughter to my abyss.

Poor angel of charity,
you are worthy of heaven!

What are you preaching?

You seem saddened by this news.

Mr. Jo?o, do not let
your beloved daughter here.

Let me see her,
bring her with you once,

but don't let her stay here,
because I don't want to obstruct her fate.

She can't live in Porto
alone and without knowing anyone.

She's beautiful and will be chased,
as she should be.

Good heavens!

Isn't it true that
she is likely to be chased?

Let them come, but
better leave the horns at home!

My friend, women are
like unripe pears.

A man touches it, and, if he
finds it hard, he does not eat it.

The girl is the
same as her mother.

And you're going to deprive
yourself of your daughter's company?

I'll find a way.

I have an older sister-in-law,
she'll prepare me some soup.

And your lordship
won't stay here for long.

In any case, I'll tell you
now what I have to say.

If I hadn't left to come to Porto,
it would've been bad.

I am not stupid, nobleman.

I know that she
has a great passion for you.

It's her destiny.

What can I do?

Never mind, Mr. Sim?o,
nothing bad will happen to you

or there is no
honor left in this world.

Maybe I could marry your daughter,
my noble friend!

Marry her? Neither I or
her have thought about it.

I'm a blacksmith and
she can only be your servant

and nothing more, Mr. Sim?o, but...

You want to know something?

I want my friends to be as
unfortunate as you would be

if you married that poor girl.

Let's not talk about this anymore.
It's a miracle when I cry,

but when I start, I can't stop.

Let's go back to our arrangement.

That table should stay here,

the dresser there,

two chairs on this side

and other two there.

Manuel Botelho returned from Minho
and arrived with the lady in Porto

fifteen days after Sim?o's imprisonment.

Manuel Botelho went to the prison
and his brother received him coldly.

They had never been in
agreement or liked each other

but Sim?o's misfortune redeemed
the faults of his fatal temper,

which had made him an orphan,

and only left a wistful memory
of his sister Rita.

Tell me the story
of your misfortune.

It's in the trial reports.

- Is there any hope for freedom?
- I don't think so.

I have little to offer, very few assets,

but if you need clothes,
I'll share mine with you.

I don't need anything.
I'll only receive alms from that woman.

Manuel had already noticed Mariana

and her beauty had prompted
him to make wrong judgments.

- Who is this girl?
- An angel, that's all I can tell you.

I'm Mr. Sim?o's maid and now yours too.

- Are you from Porto?
- No, I lived near Viseu.

Have you always
accompanied my brother?

Your curiosity is
bothering me, brother.

I wasn't trying to offend.

- Do you wish anything from our mother?
- No.

Thanks to the police
we have found out

that at this inn is the
son of Domingos Botelho.

We came here to say
that we're at his disposal.

- Is this madam your wife?
- No, she's my sister.

Sister? Which one?

I've seen them 5 years ago in Viseu,
but I can't recognize her.

- Is it Ms. D. Ana Amalia?
- Exactly.

You are undoubtedly beautiful,
but you look completely different.

Are you here to visit Sim?o?

Yes, sir. We came
to visit my poor brother

He was a lightning
that struck this family,

but you can be assured
that he will not be convicted.

Tell your mother that I said that.

My court is prepared to reduce the
punishment to 10 years of exile in India.

Sim?o proudly confessed the murder

and denies doing it for self-defence.

He's an unfortunate lunatic
with noble intentions.

What about the girl
who caused all of this?

She's a heroine!

Since she learned of the possibility
of Sim?o's sentence being reduced,

she's much better, and is saved,
according to the doctor.

Do you know her well, madam?

- Yes, I do.
- I've heard she's beautiful.

Yes, she's beautiful.

Very well.

Send this embrace to your father

and tell him that I'm here,
loyal and devoted as ever.

And an embrace to
your virtuous mother.

I have some suspicions.

About a year ago Manuel Botelho
fled to Spain with a married woman.

That woman we
saw is not his sister.

If he lied he's a crook. He
made us pay respect to a concubine!

I shall enquire on this.

Manuel was already in Vila Real, and
was trying to find a house for the Azorean

with the help of his
kind and indulgent mother.

Domingos Botelho said that
he didn't want to see his son

and said that he was
considered a deserter.

I am Manuel's father.
I know your history.

He's the infamous one;
you are the victim.

Your punishment started the instant

you realized that you
had practiced a shameful act.

Even if you haven't
realized, it will happen.

- Where are you from?
- The island of Fayal.

- Do you have a family?
- I have my mother and sisters.

Would your mother accept you
if you asked for shelter?

I think so.

Are you aware that
Manuel is a deserter?

And right now he's either
under arrest or a fugitive?

I didn't know.

That means that you don't
have anyone's protection.

Why don't you go to your mother?

I have no money.

Do you want to go today?

At the inn's door,
you'll will find a litter

and a maid who will
accompany you to Porto.

There you'll deliver a letter.

This person to whom I'm writing
is charged to get you to Lisbon.

There, a person will take you

to the first boat that
leaves for the Azores.

Are we understood?

Do you accept it?

I kiss the hands of your lordship.

Someone as unfortunate as I am
could not hope for such generosity.

On August 4, 1805, Jo?o da Cruz

sat at the table looking
unhappy and without appetite.

Aren't you going to eat, Jo?o?

- I can't swallow anything.
- What's going on?

I miss the girl.

I would give everything to have her here.

Cursed be the
misfortunes of my life!

If I hadn't shot the mule driver,
I wouldn't have any debts with the judge

and the fate of the
son would be indifferent.

If you miss her, bring her home
for a while and then send her back.

This is not something
a man like me would do, Josefa.

Without her, the boy
will die behind those the bars.

This is just something
that came to my mind today.

You know what? To hell with the
money! Tomorrow I'll go to Porto.

That's exactly what you should do.

It's decided.

What are you still thinking?

It looks like
the work of the devil.

Will the girl be ill or dead?

Dear God! Think of
what you're saying, Jo?o!

On the inside
I'm as dark as that roaster!

It's flatulence.

Go get some air,
work a little, distract yourself.

I'll drown you, wicked
thing that's disturbing my soul.


Hello. The animal
looks so sturdy!

It's not bad. Are
you Mr. Jo?o da Cruz?

- At your service..
- I come to pay a debt.

To me? You owe me
nothing that I know of.

It's my father that is in debt.

And he has asked me to pay it.

- And who is your father?
- He was a mule tracker in Car??o...

called Bento Machado.

They killed me, Mariana!

I will never see you again!

Sleep your eternal sleep,

if no court will call you to account
for the lives you've taken...

and for how you lived your own.

But if there is a place
of punishment and mercy,

the tears of your daughter,
before the Supreme Judge,

will count in your favour.

Help! Help! Oh, Jesus!


They killed my brother in law!
Help! Help!

They killed my brother in law!

Mariana went to Viseu to receive
the paternal inheritance.

Sold the land and left her house
to her aunt who was born in it,

and where her father married.

After the inheritance
she returned to Porto.

and commited her capital
to Sim?o Botelho,

saying she feared being robbed
in the house where she lived.

Why did you sell your lands, Mariana?

Because I have no intention of returning.

No? And where will you go,
when I'm sent to exile?

Remain in Porto?

- No, sir. I won't.
- So?

I'll be in your company
if you so wish.

I expected that answer.

I knew you wouldn't give me another.

But you know what exile is,
my friend?

I've heard many times
what it is, Mr. Sim?o.

It's a land hotter than ours,

but there's also bread.
There's life to live...

One dies burnt
by the sick sun of that sky.

One dies of nostalgia
for the homeland.

And many times
of mistreatment in the galleys.

It shouldn't be just like that.

I've asked many times about that,
the wife of a prisoner,

who has served 10 years
of punishment in India.

And he lived very well at Solor
where he had a shop.

If it were not for the nostalgia,
she said he'd never come back.

Life was better off there than here.

And suppose I die just on arrival?

Let's not talk about that, Mr Sim?o.

Let us, because I will feel
the responsibility for your destiny.

And if I die?

If you die, I'll know how to die also.

Nobody dies when they want, Mariana.

Oh! They do!

And live also when they want.

D. Teresa told me so already.

What did she say?

That she was dying,

and when your Lordship arrived in Porto,
your arrival gave her life.

There are many people like that,
Mr Sim?o.

What is more,
the noblewoman is weak.

I am a woman of the fields
meant for all kind of work.

And if it were necessary
to injure my arm...

and let the blood flow til death,
I would do it...

Listen, Mariana.

What do you expect from me?

What should I expect?

Why do you say that, Mr Sim?o?

The sacrifices you have made and want
to continue, can have only one reward.

Open your heart, Mariana.

What do you want me tell you?

You know my life as I do, Mariana.

I know, but what of it?

You know that I'm linked by life
and by death to that unfortunate lady?

So? Who says otherwise?

The matters of the heart
I can only answer with friendship.

And have I ever asked
for more, Mr Sim?o?

No, Mariana.

But you ask much of me
and it makes me unhappy.

And why weep?

That is ingratitude. I don't deserve
to be told such harsh words.

You did not understand me. I am unhappy
because I cannot make you my wife.

Mariana's spirit
could not rise to that speech,

but her heart guessed his thoughts.

You are 26 years old, Mariana.

Live! You can't live a life
of silent suffering.

If I remain at home,
free or imprisoned,

I would ask my sister to complete the work
of your generous compassion.

But do not come with me to Africa,

because I know that you'll return home
alone after my eyes close forever.

I'll decide what to do when Mr. Sim?o
leaves for exile.

Think about it right now, Mariana.

There is no need to think about it.

I have already made my decision.

Tell me, what is your decision?

When I realize I'm no longer useful,

I'll take away my life.

You believe I struggle to kill myself?

Mr. Sim?o can live without me?

Patience! I cannot.

You will go.
You will go with me, my sister.

From now on,
think of our common misery.

It's a poison we'll swallow together.

From that day a secret exultation
maddened at the heart of Mariana.

But let's not overdo self-denial.
Mariana's heart was a woman's heart.

She loved and was jealous of Teresa.

Yet she never hesitated in accepting
from Teresa's or the beggar's hands...

the letters to Sim?o.

After seven months, the Court commuted
the last offense...

to 10 years of exile in India.

The father of the offender
went to Lisbon...

to fight against the powerful influences
of Tadeu of Albuquerque.

Domingos Botelho won, driven
more by pride than paternal love,

and obtained from the prince-regent that the
prisoner serve his sentence in Vila Real.

Teresa asked Sim?o to accept the ten year
sentence and await there for her.

Ten years. In ten years my father
will be dead and I will be your bride.

I'll ask the king for your pardon if you
haven't finished fulfilling your sentence,

If you go into exile,
I'll lose you forever, Sim?o,

because you'll die, or have
no memory of me when you return.

You delude yourself, poor Teresa,

in the moments when the heart
leads your tiny vital forces.

If for love or mercy,

the offender would accept
the bolts 3650 times,

on his long, lonely nights,

even then, Teresa,
you could support the stone tomb...

that bends you with each passing hour.

In the letter to Teresa,
Sim?o replied:

Do not expect anything, martyr!
I'll go.

I hate my country, hate my family.

All this soil appears to my eyes
covered with gallows.

And how many men speak my language,

I seem to hear whispered, continuously,
the curses of the executioner.

Turn off the light of my eyes,
but I want the light of the sky.

I want to see the sky in my last look.

Do not ask me to accept
ten years in prison.

Save yourself if you can, Teresa.

Renounce the charm of a poor fool.

If a peaceful dawn you need,
live for the happiness of that day.

Otherwise die, Teresa,
because happiness is in death.

The only words of Teresa
in response to that letter,

a significant expression of unhappiness.

Several days of unease followed.

Sim?o Botelho did not respond
to Mariana's questions.

Presumably robbed by the voluptuous
anguish of his annihilation.

The creature put by God to watch over
those tumultuous 18 years, cried.

But if Sim?o would
only see Mariana's tears,

it would take him from lonely silence
to outbursts of anguish.

I'll die Sim?o, I'll die.

Forgive yourself my destiny.

I have lost you.

You know what fate
I would have liked to offer you.

I die, because I can't and
never will be able to rescue you.

If you can, live!

I ask you not to die, Sim?o.

I want you alive to mourn me.

My spirit will comfort you.

I'm peaceful.
I see the dawn of peace.

Goodbye, until heaven, Sim?o.

Another six months passed by,

and Teresa lived, but said to her
dismayed companions,

she knew for sure
the day of her death.

On the 10th of this month, the offender
received the order to leave

on the first boat bound
from the Douro for India.

At that time the ships went here
to take the exiles

and received in Lisbon
those with a similar fate.

No obstacle prevented
the boarding of Mariana.

who presented herself to the the Inspector
as a domestic, boarding with her master.

"And the boarding was worth it.",
said the magistrate mockingly.

Sim?o Botelho,
at the request of judge Mosqueira

and guidance of the order of Justice,

was not tied by ropes
to the arm of a companion.

The magistrate, faithful friend
of D. Rita Preciosa,

boarded the ship and recommended the
commander in respect of convict Sim?o.

On the eve of that day Teresa
had asked for the sacraments,

and received communion
at the grating of the choir.

At night she stood by her aunt's sanctuary.
The aunt prayed all night.

At dawn Teresa read
Sim?o's letters one by one.

Those that had been written
on the banks of the Mondego

warmed her heart to copious tears.

They were hymns
to the awaited happiness.

She picked up loose petals,
almost all came undone.

and, contemplating them, said:

See? What my life is like?

She wrapped up the letters,

and threaded them with strips of silk
taken from bunches of dried flowers

that Sim?o, two years earlier
had thrown from his window.

By charity, find the beggar,
to take the bundle to Mr Jo?o Botelho.

Yes, girl.

So she remained, for more than
half an hour before the holy image,

which she brought from Viseu,

at which her mother and grandmother
had prayed before her.

And in whose compassionate face
had been extinguished

the last rays of light
of the two dying women.

The judge Mour?o Mosqueira...

gave Sim?o the gold sent by his mother.

Sim?o accepted the money

and, in the presence of Mour?o Mosqueira,

asked the captain to split it
among the comrades in exile.

Are you mad, Mr. Sim?o?

I have the madness of dignity.

For the love of my dignity,
I am lost.

Now I wish to see what extreme misfortunes
it can lead his lovers.

Charity does not humiliate when
it comes from the heart and not by duty.

I do not know the person
who sent me this money.

- It's your mother.
- I do not have a mother.

Does your excellency want to return
this rejected charity?

No, sir.


Commander, comply with what I ask...

or I'll throw this into the water.

- Where is Monchique?
- It's over there, Mr. Sim?o.

Sim?o received the roll
of his letters from Teresa.

He noticed that the first wasn't hers,
but didn't open it.

The order was given to raise anchor
and untie the moorings.

Sim?o, leaned on the ship's parapet,
with eyes fixed on the horizon,

saw a waving handkerchief.

The ship, ever seawards,
moved away from the convent.

Sim?o distinctly saw a face and arms
suspended behind iron bars.

"Is it Teresa?", he asked Mariana.

"Yes, sir, it's her,"

replied in a stifled groan
the generous creature.

She felt that the soul of the convict

would soon follow the soul
of the one who made it lost.

A cloud on the horizon
and a sudden ripple of the waves

caused the suspension of the trip,
announced by the captain.

Following that a boat sailed
from the inlet with the chief pilot.

Later the trip was postponed
to the following day.

In the evening, the commander
returned from the mainland

and contemplated, with eyes
fogged by tears, the exiled,

who looked at the first stars
above the belvedere.

- You search her in the sky?
- Search her in the sky?

Yes... She must be in heaven.

- Who, sir?
- Teresa.


- She's dead?
- Yes.

Beyond... on the belvedere
from where she was waving.

Courage, poor wretch, courage!

Even men of the sea believe in God.

Expect that the heavens open for you,

thanks to the prayers of that angel.

It's all finished.

Here I am. Free for death.

Dear captain, I won't commit suicide.

You can leave me.

I ask you to retire to your room.

Your couch is next to mine.

- Is it an order to retire?
- For your Lordship there are no obligations.

I ask, I do not order.

I'll go and I thank you
for your compassion.

- And this unfortunate?
- She shall follow you.

Speak, Mr. Sim?o.
Spill it out and weep.

I cried, sir.

I did not imagine a similar anguish.

And I have seen horrible spectacles
on both land and at sea.

When in Miragaia they talked
of the death of that lady,

I asked someone in the convent
to take me to hear the sad tale.

A nun has told me but they were
more groans than words.

I learned that, while we descended the river,
she cried out loud:

"Sim?o, farewell, until eternity."

She fell into the arms of a maid.

The maid cried and
others went to the belvedere,

and took her inside, really half dead,
not heard uttering another word.

Then I was told what she went through,

of the love that she had for you,

and thousand deaths there suffered,
every time that hope would die.

That unfortunate girl!

And what an unfortunate
young man you are!

For a short time.

I believe so, for a short time.

But if friends could save you, sir,

they would be, in India,
more reliable than in Portugal.

I give you my word of honor...

to reach the viceroy
in his residence in Goa.

I promise to ensure you
a decent new life,

with all the comforts that make life
so healthy in Asia.

Don't be intimidated
by the idea of exile, Mr. Sim?o.

Live, try to be yourself
and you will be happy.

Be silent. For pity, sir.

I know that it is early
to plan for the future.

Excuse the sympathy
that inspires my indiscretion,

but accept me as a friend
in these turbulent times.

I accept and have need of him.

Mariana, come here
if this nobleman permits.

This woman has been my Providence.

Because she was there I had no famine
in two years and nine months in prison.

She sold everything
to get me through this ordeal.

This creature came here with me.

Respect her deeply, sir,

because she's as pure as truth
should be on the lips of a dying man.

If I were to die, Commander,

please protect her with your kindness
as if she were my sister.

If she wants to return home,

protect her during the trip.

- Will you promise me this, sir?
- I swear.

I am confident about your future,
my friend.

I was already, Mr Sim?o.

At midnight, Sim?o stretched out
his trembling arm

to the letters Teresa had sent him,

and contemplated for a while
the one on top, that was from her.

He broke the seal and accomodated
himself to catch the dim light of the lamp.

He read it for a long time.

"Oh, Sim?o, from such a beautiful sky
we have fallen!

It is now my spirit talking, Sim?o.

Your friend has died.

Your poor Teresa rests.

I should have spared you
this last torture.

should not have appeared,

but forgive your heavenly spouse
this fault,

for the consolation of talking
to you at this hour,

the final hours
of the night of my life.

In a little while, you will travel
thousands of leagues...

and will find me nowhere.

I'll wait for you in the other world,

and ask for the Lord to save you.

If I could deceive you, my friend,

you would think
I'd rather stay alive,

with the hope of seeing you
return from exile?

I want you to say:

"She's dead and death came
when I removed the last hope."

This is not lamenting, Sim?o, no!

If I could still see you happy
in that world.

Happy, you, my poor convict!

Without wanting to,
my love, now, would hurt you,

believing you incapable of happiness.

You'll die of yearning...
if the climate of exile doesn't kill you.

Life was beautiful, Sim?o.
If only we had it!

I'm seeing the house that you described
in front of Coimbra.

Surrounded by trees, flowers and birds.

Your imagination was walking with me
on the banks of the Mondego,

at the pensive time of twilight.

I was a little girl three years ago,

but already felt
your yearnings for glory...

and believed them accomplished
on my account, if you would tell me...

like you told many times,

you'd be nothing without
the encouragement of my love.

Oh, Sim?o, from such a beautiful sky
we've fallen!

You entered the ship of the exiled,

and I in the tomb.

What matter to die if we
can never in this life have hope?

And what would you do of life
without your companion of martyrdom,

who blindly followed the star
of your unfortunate fate?


The day has arrived.

I saw my last dawn.

The last of my eighteen years!

Be blessed, Sim?o!

May God protect you...
and free you from a long agony.


I seem already to see you, Sim?o,
in the light of eternity.


- What is it, Mr. Sim?o?
- You were here, Mariana?

- Want to go on deck, Mr. Botelho?
- We will go together.

Sim?o added Teresa's letter to his bundle,

and exited limping.

The captain walked from bow to stern,
keeping an eye on the exiled.

The sailor wanted to think of
comforting words but thought to himself:

"What to say to a man who suffers so?"

I will not commit suicide.

If your generosity, Mr. Captain,
is based on me being alive,

you can sleep peacefully,
I won't commit suicide.

But can I ask you to go down
with me to the cabin?

I will, but I'll suffer more there, sir.

Angel of compassion, always with me!

Teresa was much more unfortunate.

You want to go down to the cabin?

I couldn't.
Take care of me, my sister.

In the morning a doctor came on board
at the request of the captain.

Visiting the prisoner he said
he had a malignant fever,

and would quite possibly find
his tomb on the journey to India.

Mariana heard the diagnosis
and did not weep.

At eleven
the ship reached the open sea.

To the anxieties of the disease
were added those of nausea.

At the captain's orders
Sim?o took medicines

that were expelled with the vomit.

On the second day of journey,
Mariana said to Sim?o...

If my brother dies, what should
I do with those letters in the box?

If I die at sea, Mariana,
throw all my papers into the water.

All! Even the letters
that are under my pillow.

If I die, what will you do, Mariana?

I'll die, Mr. Sim?o.


How many people
I have made miserable!

On the fourth day
a sudden torment arose.

The ship had sailed many miles
and became disoriented.

On the sixth day the rudder broke
in front of Gibraltar.

Following the disaster,
the waves calmed down,

and with the next day's dawning,
a lovely spring day arose.

Mariana had aged.

It seems that you are returning from India
after 10 years of work done.

Already concluded, of course.

The house in front of Coimbra...

surrounded by trees, flowers and birds.

You walked with me on the banks
of the Mondego,

at the pensive time of dawn.

From such a wonderful sky
we have fallen!

Your friend died.

Your poor Teresa.

And what would you do in life
without your companion of martyrdom?

Give God your suffering...

so I can be forgiven, Mariana.

You'll join us,
we are your siblings in heaven.

You'll be the purest of angels...

if you are from this world, sister.
if you are from this world, Mariana.

He's dead!

Now it is time to give to the tomb
our fortunate friend.

Fortunate it is to die when you
come into this world under such a star.

Mrs. Mariana, go in the cabin,

because the deceased
must be taken away from here.

Mariana took the letters
from under the pillow...

and went to a box
bringing Sim?o's papers.

She rolled them in the apron
which had contained her tears,

cried on the day of his insanity,

and assured the packet to her belt.

The corpse was wrapped in a blanket,
and carried on deck.

Mariana went after.

Ever since I was a child I heard
the sad story of my paternal uncle,

Sim?o Antonio Botelho.

My aunt, his sister,
urged by my curiosity,

was always ready to repeat
the facts related to his youth.

I knew that at my sister's house there were
hidden the bundles of old letters,

tending to clarify the nebulous story
of my uncle.

I asked those who had known him
for news and the slightest of details

in order to enter fully into this work.

I wrote the novel in 15 days,
the most tormented of my life.

Such wretched memories I have of them,

that I'll never open
"Doomed Love."