Pan Tadeusz: The Last Foray in Lithuania (1999) - full transcript

What can be my thoughts,
here in Paris?

My ears hear the noise,

the lies and curses
rising from the city,

and with untimely plans,
regrets and quarrels!

Pity us exiles!

We fled to foreign lands,

to live among strangers!

Every neighbor sees
in us a foe!

One happiness remains:

to sit by the fire
with a few friends,

to close our door
to Europe's uproar,



and escape in thought
to happier days...

and dream of our own land...

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You're just in time,
my Tadeusz!

Today there'll be
many fine young ladies...

Your uncle is thinking
of marrying you off soon.

You'll have a wide choice.

A large group has gathered
to hear the judgment...

settling our age-old dispute
with the Count.

The Count
will be here tomorrow.

Come let us go
and meet...

your uncle there,
the Chamberlain...

And all
the ladies fair!

For a long time my nephew was away,
studying in the city.

At last, he's back.

Little master,

dear young sir...

Forgive me for
addressing you that way,

your excellency the Count,

it's an old habit,
and I mean no irreverence.

We called all the Horeszkos...

"little master", so I'll address
you that way too, my lord.

Is it true you're dropping
the lawsuit? And letting...

the Soplicas have the castle?

Is that so odd?

The cost is great,
and the tedium even greater.

Soplica is dragging out
the lawsuit.

He's sure I'll yield out
of boredom.

I'll lay down my arms,
and accept the verdict.

I trust you're jesting?

You'd let the Horeszko family seat
go to the Soplicas?

I pray, sir, dismount.

You don't know what you're doing, sir.
Let's go and see the castle.

Do not refuse.

Dismount, Count.

Listen to the story...

of your own family,

which took place
in this very hall,

and in no other.

My late master,
first lord of the district,

a wealthy man
of a noted family,

had but one child,
a daughter as beautiful as an angel.

All the gentry
and young notables courted her.

Among them,
was a roistering blade,

a fighting bully,
Jacek Soplica,

who was nicknamed
"The Governor".

In fact, he had great influence
in the district,

and was the head
of the Soplica family.

So, my master
often invited this ruffian...

to his place, especially during
local assemblies...

as it made him popular
among the fellow's kinsmen.

Soplica was so elated
by this reception...

that he got the notion to become
Horeszko's son-in-law.

He was about to declare himself,
when they found out his plan...

and he was ousted
and rejected as a suitor.

Possibly, the young lady
had taken a fancy to him.

If so she kept it from
her family.

This took place at the time
of the insurrections.

Our master favored
the Constitution of May 3rd,

and had rallied the nobility
to the cause of the rebels.

Then one night the Russians
surrounded the castle.

We were ready for such emergencies.
There were twenty guns,

here in this hall. We fired one,
the next was brought up.

The parish priest helped out,
so did the ladies.

Only three of us were shooting,
but our fire was continuous.

The Russians showered us
with bullets.

We shot more sparsely,

but aimed better. They fled behind
the storehouse.

Your forebear, elated,
went on the balcony.

Whenever a Russian peeked out,
he fired...

and never missed. Suddenly,
a shot came from the gate.

My lord coughed,
turned pale, tried to speak,

spat blood...

I saw a bullet
in his chest.

He staggered
and pointed at the gate.

I recognized that bandit Soplica!

I knew him

from his stature,
his mustache.

I saw it: it was his hand
that slew my master.

The rogue held
his weapon raised,

the barrel still smoking!

I aimed at him
The ruffian was petrified.

Twice I fired,
but both shots missed,

fury or pain kept me
from shooting straight.

I heard the women sobbing,
and turned round.

My master was dead.

With the blood of his wound,

I wet my sabre,
the one called the "penknife".

You must have heard
about my penknife.

It's famous at every diet,
council, market and fair.

I have sworn to blunt it
on the Soplicas' necks.

Since then , I've fought them
at every opportunity.

I had a premonition
that I'd love these walls!

Once I've reconquered this castle,

you'll command it.

Only one Soplica
has yet to taste the penknife:

the murderer's younger brother.

He's still alive,
and brags of his wealth.

His land borders on this castle.

He's a respected man here.
He's a judge!

And it's to him
that you would yield?

You'd let his base feet
tread on your ancestor's blood?

Pity it wasn't dark...

when you led me here!

Draped in my coat,
I would have sat here...

while you told me
of these bloody deeds.

It's my duty
to break off all negotiations,

even if it comes
to pistols or swords!

Honor bids me!

A pity this Soplica
has no wife or pretty daughter...

whose charms I could count!

From such thwarted love
the plot would gain in complexity!

Here, the heart, there, duty!
Here, vengeance, there, love!

Such were the amusements
and disputes...

in Lithuania, while the world
swam in blood and tears,

and Napoleon,
surrounded by his regiments,

armed with thousands of cannons
adorned with golden eagles,

flew from Libya's deserts
to the Alps...

hurling thunderbolts
without end.

Tales of his glory came roaring
from the Nile northward,

to the banks of the Niemen,
where a wall...

of Russian troops beat back
these tidings, that for Russia...

were worse than a plague.

When Napoleon
takes snuff then you can tell,

that for his troops
the battle's going well.

For instance,
at Austerlitz,

regiment after regiment
galloped on and fell.

For each regiment that fell,
the Emperor took a pinch.

If one of you gentleman
ever serves...

a day in his army,
remember that!

My dear Father,
when will that day be?

So many times they've said
the French would come.

We wait, we look
until our eyes are weary,

and still the Russians
have us by the throat, and throttle us.

We'll all be dead by then!

My good sirs,
it's for women to complain,

and for the Jews
to wait patiently...

until someone knocks
at their inn.

With Napoleon,
it's easy to beat the Russians.

The Lithuanian gentry
won't commit to battle

until there's nobody left
to fight.

Then Napoleon,
all-victorious will say,

"I managed well without you,
go away!"

It's not enough to await a guest,

to invite him.

You have to gather your servants,
set up the tables,

and before the feast,

tidy up your house.

Tidy up your house,
I say it again, my boys!

What do you mean?
Tidy up the house?

- What does that mean?
- We'll take care of it all,

we're ready for anything,
but be more explicit, Father!

Today there's no time.
We'll talk about it again later.

Tomorrow, I'm going to town,

and on my way I'll call you,
to gather alms.

They dined at the castle.

Stubborn Protazy
defying the Judge, his master,

had taken it upon himself...

to have the tables
and the meal carried there.

Forgive us.

We sat down.

We could not delay the supper;

the guests were hungry
after their walk.

I feared you'd not be joining us.

I was in St. Petersburg
several times.

Tender memories,
charming images of the past!

Were you never there?

Would you like to see a map?
I still have one in my desk.

One day, to my misfortune,
a certain petty official...

rented the house next door.
He kept several hounds.

They terrified me!

My heart foresaw a misfortune.
And that's precisely what happened.

One morning, a greyhound
killed my tiny spaniel!

It was lovely little dog!
Prince Sukin gave it to me,

as a memento...

Seeing it dead...

was so distressing
that I had palpitations.

Worse still might have happened,

but luckily,
at that very moment, Kirilo,

the Master of the Hunt,

came to pay me a visit.

He asked what it was about,

and had the culprit
pulled in by the ears.

The man appeared,
white as a sheet, shaking.

"How dare you", thundered Kirilo,

"hunt a pregnant doe, in the spring,
under the Tsar's nose?"

The man swore in vain
that he hadn't done any hunting,

and that he begged to differ:

the animal was a dog,
not a doe!

"You scoundrel!", shouted Kirilo,
"you dare to claim,

you know more
about hunting than I,

the Master of the Tsar's Hunt?"

"The Chief of Police
must decide about this at once!"

The Chief,
who knew his business...

was amazed
at the petty official's audacity,

and quietly advised him...

to plead guilty
to improve his case.

The dogs were put to death,
and the official

spent four weeks
in prison.

This amusing trifle
quickly spread:

how the Master of the Hunt
took up the case of my little dog.

And I know
from a reliable source...

it even made
the Emperor laugh.

After him!

The Assessor and I
let them go together,

as if two triggers of a gun
had been pulled by one finger!

Hurrah! They're off!

The hare bounds away,
gaining ground.

The dogs manage to head it off
from the forest.

One dog gets ahead:

a swift dog, but too fiery,
leading the other...

by a finger's breadth.
It misses the hare...

who slyly pretends...

to make for the fields,
with the dogs in pursuit.

Sensing the dogs
are closing in...

it veers right
and they follow foolishly.

Then it veers left,

in just two bounds.

The dogs veer too
and my Bobtail seizes it!

That is true, Notary.

Your dog's tail has been cut.
So it's not good at seizing.

My favorite greyhound
isn't good at seizing?

A hound without a tail
is like a nobleman without office.

The tail is essential
to a running hound.

Do you, sir, view the lack of one
as a good thing?

Let's refer the matter...

to your aunt.

Though she lived in the capital
and is new here,

she knows more about hunting
than most young men,

because knowledge always grows
with experience.

Was it wrong to occupy the castle?

No one lost from it,
and you may gain something.

The suit is about
who owns the castle.

Today, we acquired those rights.

And despite the fury
of our adversaries,

I'll prove that it's now
our possession.

By inviting guests
to sup at the castle,

we've showed we're
the rightful owners...

Here was a grove...

carpeted with grass.

Between the birches,
under the canopy of their branches,

hazy figures,
whose dancing motions...

were like ghosts in the moonlight.

They did not speak
or exchange greetings,

so deep in meditation were they,
so absorbed in themselves.

The Count saw in them
the spirits from Elysium,

not subject to pain or cares,
wandering at peace, but gloomy.

It looks international!

He on the rock,
she on the grass...

What a well-posed group!

What admirable heads...

What contrasting faces...

Madame,

forgive my boldness.

I interrupted your meditation,
but to you I owe my inspiration!

Condemn the man, but the artist
awaits your forgiveness.

You judge!

You have talent.

Don't neglect it.
Seek out the beauty...

in nature.

0 happy skies of Italy!

That's the land of painters!

Here in Soplicowo, even
the Muses couldn't find inspiration!

Dear Count,

I shall frame it.

Count, if you're in love
with painting,

why don't you paint
the trees of our country?

People here would like that.

Not all that is beautiful
can be painted.

You'll learn that from books,

in good time.

In the botanical gardens,
I saw those vaunted trees...

from the East, the South,
from fair Italy.

Ours are much finer!

Friend,

beautiful nature is just the form,
the basic material.

The soul is the inspiration!
On wings of fantasy...

it rises, polished by taste,
buttressed by rules!

Isn't our honest birch tree
more beautiful?

Like a peasant woman
weeping for her son,

or a widow, wringing her hands,

her hair streaming
to the ground.

As for painting,
what a picture needs...

is a point of view,
good staging, and skies!

The skies of Italy!

For landscape painting,

Italy was and will be
the home of painters.

The Soplicas' sickness is to scorn
everything but their country.

Fate wants all in this world
to end with the sound of a bell:

lofty thoughts,
the plans of the imagination,

innocent amusements,
the joys of friendship,

demonstrations of the heart...

When the bell tolls from afar,

everything is shattered,
confused and vanishes!

- What is left?
- Remembrance.

We saw a bear, good sir!

Have the headman mount his horse!

Assemble the beaters by daybreak!

Volunteers will be exempted...

of two days' work on the roads,
and five in the fields.

- Get the guns ready!
- We need lead! Lead!

Tomorrow, at half past four
at the forest chapel,

the hunters and beaters
will meet.

Tell the parish priest...

to say mass in the
forest chapel for our sport.

St. Hubert's.
Let the offertory be short.

Judge...

My friend,
she'll make trouble for us...

that aunt Telimena!

She's a coquette.

When Zosia was
all alone as a child,

and poor,

Jacek asked Telimena
to raise her.

Because she was an able woman,
who knew the world.

But I've noticed
she is stirring things up for us,

and scheming,

and seems to be flirting
with Tadeusz.

I'm watching her.

Or perhaps it's the Count
she's after,

or maybe both.

Let's find a way to be rid of her.

She may cause tongues to wag!

Friend,

I have serious motives
for saying this.

You remember...

the Jacek wanted...

to send his son away to the army,

but later let him stay in Lithuania.
For what reason?

This is where he'll be most useful
to our country.

You must have heard
what everyone is saying now.

Serious things, my friend.

The war is close.

A war for Poland, friend!
We shall be Poles again!

Is this true, my Robak?
Is it really true?

Napoleon has already assembled
a huge army,

such as man nor history
has never seen.

Beside the French,
Polish horsemen are advancing,

our Joseph, our Dobrowski,
our White Eagles.

They're on their way,

and at the first sign
from Napoleon,

they'll cross the Niemen,
my friend!

Our country will be resurrected.

We've been deceived
so many times.

People said:

Napoleon is coming!
We waited for him in vain.

Is it finally true?

Haven't you been deceived again?

It's as true as God is in Heaven.

Blessed are the lips
that bring these tidings!

You won't regret your message,
nor will your monastery.

I'll give it 200 choice sheep.

Get up, sir!

It's time to go hunting.

You forgot that!

Did you know
that from this snuffbox,

General Dobrowski
took four pinches?

Dobrowski?

Yes, the general. I was in his camp
when he recaptured Gdansk.

He was writing:
so as not to fall asleep,

he took a pinch, sneezed,
then patted me on the back.

"Father Robak",
he said,

we may meet in Lithuania,
before the year is over.

Tell the Lithuanians to greet me
with Czestochowa tobacco.

I take no other.

Polish tobacco?
From Czestochowa?

Dobrowski's coming?

Look at this threatening figure.
Guess who it is?

A great emperor,
but not of Russia.

Tsars don't use tobacco!

A great man?
In an ordinary coat?

I thought all great men
wore gold braid.

Among the Russians,

any sort of general...

shines with gold,

like a pike sprinkled
with saffron.

Dobrowski's hymn!

Brandy! Mead! Wine!

It's there!

It's there!

How about my little gun?

How about my birdie?
It's not large,

but what a showing it made!
It never wastes a charge

It never wastes a charge in the air.
A present from Prince Sanguszko.

I aimed and thought:
"Hold on, Bruin!"

And sure enough,
there it lay dead.

It's a fine gun!
A real Sagalas.

There's the inscription:
"sagalas, London, at Balabanowka."

How's that?

In the name of a thousand bears!

You say you killed it?
What nonsense!

Listen, we're not in a
court of law.

We're out hunting,
everyone can testify.

Gentlemen...

This bullet...

did not come from
either of your guns.

It's from this single-barreled
Horeszko gun.

But I didn't shoot it.

It's not that I lacked courage.

It was horrible.
My eyes became clouded.

Gentlemen, in my whole life,

I've seen only one man who
could boast of such marksmanship!

Glory to the monk!
He saved life of 2 men, maybe 3.

I don't want to boast,

but if the last child
of Horeszko blood...

ended in its jaws,
I'd no longer be of this world:

the bear would have crunched
my old bones too.

Come, Father.

Let's go drink...

to your health!

My dear, ever since Tadeusz
has been staying here,

I have worried a lot.

I'm old,
and have no children.

That good lad is my only
consolation.

My brother Jacek,
Tadeusz's father,

a strange man,
hard to understand.

He won't even let his son know
he is alive,

yet he gives me
instructions for him.

First he wanted him
to join the army,

then agreed he could stay at home
and marry.

He'll easily find a wife.

In heaven's name!
Is there any sense in this?

My dear good brother?

Closing the world to him!
He'll never pardon.

Burying such a talent
in the garden?

To be sure, in his early years,
it is good for a young man

to look around
and acquire some social graces.

I myself, in my youth,
covered a lot of ground.

I have been
To Piotrkow, to Dubno

at times on court matters,
at times for business.

I even went as far as Warsaw.

You should send Tadeusz
to a capital.

For instance to Warsaw.

Or perhaps to St. Petersburg?

I know many people there
and have connections.

That's the best way to make a man.
He'll get a job, decorations.

Later, he can leave
the Tsar's service...

- and return home.
- Decorations?

I beg your pardon.

But of what interest
are Russian decorations?

If that's your option,
send him traveling abroad.

You see, it's just that...

That's
what I like to do.

Jacek hasn't given up
his tutelage of Tadeusz.

He sent me this monk
Robak, who came from the Duchy.

He's my brother's friend,
and knows all his plans.

Together they decide
Tadeusz's future.

They want him to marry,
to marry Zosia...

That's something new!

What have you to with Zosia?

I control her hand , I alone.

Even if Jacek gave me
a small allowance to educate her,

it doesn't mean
he's bought her!

As you both know,
and so does everyone else,

your generosity
toward us had a motive.

The Soplicas owe something
to the Horeszkos.

I carried Zosia in my arms.
I alone protect her.

No one else thinks of her happiness.

But what if she finds happiness
this way?

- What if she likes Tadeusz?
- If she likes him? Nonsense!

Like him or not,
that's not my worry.

Zosia is not a wealthy match,

nor is she a simple village girl.

She's from an eminent family,
the daughter of a gentleman.

She'll find a husband.

So what do we do?

It will be no fault of mine
if this betrothal isn't made.

Not so fast! You said yourself
they were too young...

Let's think it over...

Let's wait.

That won't do any harm...

But I warn you, don't push
Tadeusz into Zosia's arms!

"The heart all force disdains,

And never can be put in chains."

Is it nice to shout like that?
Is it polite?

This gentleman will be afraid.

0 you!
By whatever name you go,

are you a goddess,
a nymph or a vision? Speak!

Are you on earth by your own will?

Or does some power bind you here?

Where are you from, sir?
Why are you in the vegetable garden?

I beg you to forgive me.

I was hurrying to breakfast,

I want to be on time:
the road is the long way round.

There's a shortcut through here.

But stick to the path.
Don't trample the vegetables!

- The manor is that way!
- To left or to right?

Miss, do you live here,
or in the village?

Why have I never seen you?
Are you a visitor?

Excuse me,
but isn't that your bedroom?

Couldn't you help me
round up my chickens?

I, round up chickens?

No country makes
such good coffee as Poland.

In Poland, by ancient custom,
a special woman...

is given this task.
She's called the kawiarka.

She chooses the finest grains,

knows how to make the beverage
black as coal,

transparent as amber,

and thick as honey. Everyone knows
that coffee needs good cream.

In the morning, the "kawiarka"
pays a visit to the dairy,

and skims fresh cream
from the milk...

into little jugs,

so it can be added...

to each cup
according to individual taste.

The Count is young,
heir to a fortune, pleasant looking,

a bit in love with me.
But he might be fickle.

Would he marry an older woman?
To one who is not rich?

Would his parents let him?

The Count is a grandee.
The rich are capricious.

The Count is blond.
Blond men aren't very passionate.

And Tadeusz?

A simple fellow, honest,
almost a child!

Who's having his first love affair!

Young men, who have a conscience,
are more faithful...

than old fogeys.

But let's not forget
about the Count...

Maybe we could interest him
in Zosia?

Zosia!

You are quite forgetful
of your rank and age!

Yet you're fourteen today.

Time to give up minding turkeys!

Is that a pastime
for a dignitary's daughter?

I'll change all that as of today.
I'll introduce you

to society,
you'll meet all our guests.

So don't shame me!

My aunt!
I've seen no guests...

since I've lived here,
except a turtle dove!

I was getting bored.

The Judge says
it's bad for the health.

He wants me to take you
into society,

mutters that you're already
grown up.

The poor old man
has no knowledge of society!

Or the time it takes for a young lady...

to prepare her entry
so she makes an impression.

Someone who grew up in everyone's
sight, though she may be...

beautiful and clever,

makes no impression.

You must learn not to walk
like a boy,

or stare at everyone.
Curtsy again.

You're so stiff!

My aunt!

You kept me locked up.
I had no one to dance with.

Out of boredom,
I took to feeding the poultry.

But wait...

until I've lived a little in society.

You'll see how I'll improve.

Listen carefully, Zosia.

You'll meet a well-educated
and well-connected young Count.

See that you are...

very nice him.

Being the hostess,
Telimena welcomed the guests.

She introduced Zosia to them:

first to Tadeusz, a close relative...

Zosia curtsied, he bowed.

He wanted to speak to her,
opened his mouth,

but just looked at her,
speechless.

He blushed, then grew pale...

unable to control his heart.

He felt miserable,
recognizing Zosia.

Dashing out,
he ran into the fields,

like a pike fighting the harpoon,

then chanced upon the hill...

where he was so happy yesterday,
where he received the love note...

a place known as
"The Temple of Meditation".

In vain,
his heart defended itself.

He took pity,
felt compassion move him.

Silently, from behind a tree,
he sighed...

and angrily reprimanded himself:

Fool! Is it her fault
ifl made a mistake?

May I bid you, young people,

according to the ancient custom,
to enjoy yourselves,

and not eat in silence.
Are we Cistercian monks?

I know what ails you all.

That cloud of black
came certainly from Robak's cowl.

You're ashamed that
you missed bear! Do not blush.

I've seen better guns miss
their target.

To hit, to miss, to adjust,
that's the art of shooting.

Remember the old
Seneschal's advice:

never get in another hunter's way,

and don't let two hunters
chase the same game.

The same dame.

The same skirt.

The same flirt!

To Robak's health!
Raise your glasses!

Since we can't enrich him,

let's at least pay for his powder.

The flesh of the bear we killed

will keep the monastery
in meat for 2 years.

But I won't give up the skin!

I'll take it by force,

if the monk won't humbly
yield it to me.

Robak has taken
the first crown of glory.

The skin,
His Excellency the Chamberlain...

shall award it to him
who deserves the second reward.

All of you were equal
in skill and courage.

But fate selected two
for special honor.

Those who were closest
to the bear's claws:

Tadeusz and the Count!
The skin belongs to them.

Tadeusz will yield this privilege,

being younger
and related to the Judge.

Hence take this rich booty,
dear Count!

May this skin adorn
your trophy room.

My house is too small.

There's no place
worthy of so magnificent a gift.

Let the bearskin stay here...

until the Judge
gives me back the castle!

You deserve praise, my neighbor...

you're all business,
even at table.

I wish and hope...

to end this trial by
a reconciliation.

The only difficulty
is the land around the castle...

My friend,

postpone your urgent task.

My dear Warden,
or rather screech owl,

if you value your beak, close it!

Me, an owl?

Whoever sneaks by night
into another's loft...

is an owl,
and I'll scare him off!

Get out!

Count!

Can't you see what's happening?

Haven't you soiled
your honor enough,

by eating with these Soplicas?

Must I Gervazy,
the keeper of this castle,

Warden of the Horeszkos,
be insulted in our house?

Will you put up with that?

Silence, gentlemen!

Hear this!

I, Protazy Brzechalski,
former General of the Court,

and Apparitor, hereby make...

my formal report and declaration,

claiming all here present
as witnesses,

and summon the Assessor
to investigate the case.

On behalf of Judge Soplica,
the plaintiff,

as to an incursion,

a forced entry of this castle,
his legal property,

proof of which is that
he's eating here!

Put that bully in irons!

Beware, Judge!

No one shall offend
my servant in my house!

Count, you're appropriating
this castle before the verdict!

You're not the host;
we're not your guests!

What do I care?
Enough of this drivel!

Bore others with
your formalities.

It was folly for me to join you
in drinking bouts...

that end in coarse brawls!

I want satisfaction
for this insult to my honor!

We'll meet when you're sober!
Come, Gervazy!

Clown!

Petty noble!

L'll...
Thomas! My saber!

Get out!

To arms!
Thomas! My saber!

Wait, this matter concerns me!

They insulted me!

Protazy! My weapon!

I'll make you dance like a bear!

My dear uncle! Chamberlain!

Is it fitting for you
to meddle with this fop?

We'll see how good a knight
you are tomorrow.

Choose the place and weapons!
Now leave!

Pistols,
or if they prefer, sabers.

The castle and the village,
both are ours!

Uncle, nephew,
challenge them all!

Castle, village,
let's take it all!

I always said: no lawsuits.

Let's raid them, grab it!

We'll make a stir in all
of Lithuania with our foray!

He who seizes the land
is its master.

Win in the field
and you'll win in court!

If old Maciek helps me
with his saber,

the two of us will slice them
to pieces!

Bravo! Your Gothic plan is better
than legal wrangling.

It will amuse me.

I've vegetated here two years.
All I've seen are petty squabbles!

- Are there any dungeons?
- Huge cellars, but empty.

The Soplicas drank all the wine.

We must arm my staff,
and get vassals from the village.

Lackeys? God forbid!
You know nothing about forays.

But vassals can do the job,
and we'll find them.

Not among the peasantry:

in the hamlets
of the lesser gentry.

I'll recruit 300 mustachioed
gentlemen.

All mortal enemies
of the Soplicas.

Leave it to me.
Get a good night's rest, sir,

for tomorrow there'll be
hard work.

Why did you insist
in going to that ruin?

How I detest it!
I'll never set foot in it again!

Another quarrel!
What a calamity!

It's not my fault.

The lawsuit will prove it. That
pompous Count caused the quarrel.

Gervazy is a bandit.
That's the count's affair.

Pity you weren't at
the supper.

I have more urgent matters,
but I'll reconcile you.

Reconcile us?
What do you mean?

To hell with your reconciliation!
Look at this monk!

I receive him politely,
and he leads me by the nose.

Listen, we Soplicas
don't compromise.

When we go to court,
we have to win.

Some of our lawsuits
have lasted...

six generations!

From this day on,
no more compromise! Never!

And for his behavior yesterday,
the Count must beg...

to be forgiven, or fight.

What's this?
Have you lost your reason?

What are you telling me?
What's this new row?

Judge, what will happen...

when Jacek
finds out all this?

He'll die of despair.

Haven't you Soplicas
done enough harm?

Friend, I don't want to remind you
of that terrible event.

You know the castle's lands
were confiscated...

by the Russians,
and given to the Soplicas.

Jacek,
to be absolved of his sin,

swore to restore those lands.

So he took in Zosia,
the poor heiress of the Horeszkos,

spent a great deal
on her education,

to marry her to his son Tadeusz,

thus reconciling
the two hostile families,

and returning
to the heiress what was here.

What's it to me?

What have I to do with it?

I've never met or seen Jacek.

I've barely heard
of his riotous life.

They gave me the estate,
and I took it.

He told me to take in Zosia,
and I raised her...

and plan her future.

I'm sick of this old wives' tale!

And now there's this Count, too!

So, when Napoleon is bringing
freedom to Lithuania,

when the world trembles,

you think of your lawsuit?
When it's time to act!

To act? How?

Listen:
the French attack by day.

What if we raised the country
by night?

500 of our men
press the Russians from behind,

the uprising spreads like fire.

Napoleon sees our lances,
and asks:

"What army is that?"
We shout: "Rebels!"

"Sire Lithuanian volunteers!"

He asks: "Who is their commander?
"Judge Soplica!"

I've plowed my land
and avoided politics.

But I'm a gentleman;
I'd gladly erase this shame.

I'm a Pole,
and for my country,

I'd give up my life.
I'm not much good with a saber,

yet I've slashed a few men.

During the last assemblies,

I wounded two...

Enough of this!
What is your idea?

Should we take to the field
at once?

There's enough sabers.
The gentry will ride out,

my nephew and I at their head.
Come what may!

0 Polish blood!

In the meantime, friend,
you must make up with the Count.

He's a crank, an oddball,

but young,
honest, and a good Pole.

We need people like them.

I revolutions,
hotheads are very useful.

Knowing how wealthy he is,
people will say:

"They're sure to win,
since nobles like him are involved."

Let's invite him.

Let him make the first move!

He must come here,
and ask to be forgiven.

Am I not older?
Do I not hold office?

As for the lawsuit,
it can go to arbitration.

In Dobrzyn
there were many wise old men...

who knew Latin,
practiced law, and were rich.

But of them all old Maciek,
though poor, was the most respected.

As a swordsman,

famous for his "switch",
and as a wise counselor.

He rarely gave advice
and then in few words.

He was the perfect choice
to lead the insurrection:

he'd always loved swordplay,
and gated the Russians.

Praise the lord!

Forever and ever, amen!

What do you think, Maciej?

If Russia's taunting Bonaparte,
he'll take it seriously.

The great hero
has endless armies.

Well, Maciek,
what do you think?

Where did all this news
come from?

How far are the French?

Who's in charge of them?
How many cavalry and infantry?

Whoever knows should tell!

Let's wait for Robak,

the news came from him.

Delay? Wait? Debate?

Hem, haw and run away!

Meanwhile send spies
to the border...

and quietly arm the whole country.

But do it all discreetly...

so the Russians
don't find out our plans!

I want to live!

And fight!

What use is Robak?
Are we schoolboys?

What good is the monk?

We don't need him...

to bring the Russians
to their knees!

Spying and reconnaissance!

What does it mean?

That you've cowards!

Sissies!

A monk gathers alms.
But I sprinkle!

I'll sprinkle them!

Sprinkle! Sprinkle!

Sprinkle and sprinkle, that's all!

Long live the Sprinkler
and his club!

- Down with cowards!
- Let them hide...

in the monk's hood!

The monk will not come here.
No point in waiting.

If the news came from him,

why is he spreading it?

That devil of a priest!

If you have
no other news than this,

why did you come here?
What do you want?

- War!
- What war?

- Against the Russians!
- Let's attack them!

In the name of Jesus, we must know
why and who we're fighting.

- You must tell people.
- Will they follow us?

Where should they go,
if we don't know ourselves?

My noble brothers!
Gentlemen!

We need discretion!

Honorable company,
we need other and method!

That's it!

But you, Maciek the Switcher,
and you, Maciek the Club,

must make up,
and then so help me God!

We'll beat the Russians
into pulp!

Razor advances with the Switch!

- Slash, slash!
- Here are my principles!

Why blacken paper and spill ink?

A confederation?
Is that the only question?

Maciek is our marshal,

his Switch is his baton!

The Penknife bows to the Switch.

Gentlemen of Dobrzyn,

I will give you no advice,

I will only tell you...

why I have assembled you.

What to do, and how to do it,
is for you to decide.

You know, there's been talk
for a long time

among the hamlets...

that great things
are preparing in the world.

Father Robak has talked of it,
you know it all.

- We know!
- Good!

Since the Emperor of the French...

is coming from one side...

and the Russian Tsar from
the other, there will be war!

Tsar against Emperor,
King against King, they'll fight,

as usually happens
between monarchs.

Shall we sit quiet?

While the great choke each other,

we'll choke the smaller,
each his own man.

Thus from above and below,
great against great,

small against small,
as soon as we start to smite them,

all the scoundrels
will be overthrown,

and happiness will bloom again...

in Poland.

Is this not true?

It's true!
He speaks like a book!

It's true!
Hit them hard, that's all!

I'm ready to caress my blade.

But you must agree
who our leader is!

Idiot! Discussions
don't harm our common cause.

Be silent!

I summon all present here
to bear witness.

Didn't Robak tell you

that before
we receive Napoleon here,

we have to tidy our house?

You heard it,
but did you understand?

Who should we tidy
from this district?

Who is the traitor,
who killed the finest of Poles?

Who robbed and plundered him?

Who wants to steal what's
left from his legitimate heir?

Who is it?

Must I tell you?

It's Soplica!

He is a tyrant!

Sprinkle him!

If he's a traitor,

string him up!

Brother gentlemen!

By God's wounds!

What's the meaning of this,
Warden?

Have you gone mad?

He's the brother of an exile,
of a madman. But is it his fault?

Is it Christian to punish him...

for his brother's crimes?

It was not like that
in Great Poland, brothers.

What harmony reigned!
How sweet a memory.

No one interrupted
our counsels for a trifle!

To hang a scoundrel
that's not a trifle.

Gentlemen of Dobrzyn,

I am only a Jew,

but I say this...

If you want
to do violence to the Judge,

that is very bad.

Some of you will get killed...

And the Assessor?
The Police Chief? The prison?

In the village of Soplica,
there are soldiers, all marksmen.

The Assessor need only whistle,
and they'll march.

They'll march here.

You expect the French,
but they're a long way off,

and the road is long.

If there is to be a war,
it won't be until spring.

Now, pray disperse!
Speak not aloud

of what happened!
Talking of it does no good.

Be gone, Jew!

Don't meddle in this!
It's not your business!

Brothers,

you want to wage war
against the Tsar...

and let you fear the Soplicas?
You're afraid of prison?

Am I asking you
to become brigands?

God forbid!
Gentlemen and brothers,

I stand on my rights.

Hasn't the Count won his lawsuit?

Didn't he get the decree?
Now it must be executed.

As in the old days.

The Count wrote the decree,
and we applied it,

especially the nobles of Dobrzyn.

That's how your fame
and glory spread in Lithuania.

Will no one today
help the poor orphan?

Heir to the lord
who nourished so many of you,

who has no other friend
but me, his Warden,

- and my faithful Penknife.
- And the Sprinkler!

Where you go,
Gervazy, I will go too.

As long as I have an arm
to go slash slash.

Anything you soap,
I will shave it!

I'm leaving with you,

since we can't agree
on a marshal.

Damn the votes!
I prefer bullets and I have many!

Here they are.
All these are for the Judge!

Long live the Horeszkos!
Long live their coat of arms!

Long live the Warden!
Down with the Soplica!

Down with them!

You idiots!

Idiots!

That's all you are!

Don't get your fingers
caught in the millstones!

When the debate
was about the resurrection of Poland,

the public weal, you idiots,

you quarreled endlessly.

You could never...

understand one another,

nor bring order,

nor choose a leader.

But as soon as anyone brings up
his personal grudges...

You idiots...

Suddenly you all agree.

Go away!

For as my name is Maciek,

I wish upon you
multitudes of wagons,

filled with devils!

Long live the Count!

We'll live and die with him!

My brother...

I have lived here as a monk,
and wanted to die as such,

without revealing my name,

even to you and my own son.

Who knows if I'll come back alive?
Or what will happen?

In Dobrzyn, my brother,
everything...

is in the mess.

That insane Count
has gone to the village.

I wasn't able to stop him,

because Maciek recognized me.

If he betrays me,
my neck will wind up...

under Gervazy's Penknife.

Nothing will stop him.

My head matters little,
but if I'm recognized,

our plot will be endangered.

Farewell, dearest brother...

Farewell.

I must hurry.

If I perish in this war,
you alone will pray for my soul,

my secret belongs to you alone.

Finish what I've begun,

and remember...

you are a Soplica.

My dear uncle...

The few days I've spent here
have raced by.

I couldn't fully enjoy your house
or your company,

and now I must leave.

Today or tomorrow at the latest.

My uncle,
we have challenged the Count.

We have and we must fight him.
But why must you leave?

Why today,
why this obstinacy?

Before a duel,
it is customary to send friends,

and settle terms.

Who knows?
Be patient, there's still time.

It is up to me to fight him.

In Lithuania, duels are forbidden.
I'm going to the border.

The Count has courage,
and will join me there to fight.

Once the quarrel settled,

if with God's I've punished him,
I'll cross to the Duchy of Warsaw.

Unless some other whimsy
is chasing you away?

Speak frankly,
don't make excuses.

I've been like a father to you,

and my little finger...

has already whispered
into my ear...

that some intrigue
is going on with the ladies.

Indeed...

It's the truth...

there are other causes,

my dear uncle.
Maybe of my own doing.

There is a heartbreak
behind this.

Yesterday,
you bid your lips...

looking at a certain young girl,
and she too made a strange face.

An error of youth, my uncle.
Do not ask me more.

I must leave at once.

I know all about that nonsense.

When a couple of children
fall in love,

they have no end of misfortunes!

My uncle...

I'll tell you the truth.

Your young ward, Zosia,

pleases me,

though I've only seen her
once or twice.

I hear you want to marry me
to the rich Chamberlain's daughter.

But I cannot do that,

since I'm in love with Zosia.
One can't change one's heart.

And it's dishonest to love someone
and marry another.

Time will heal this.
I'm leaving for a long time.

My little Tadeusz!

A strange way to be in love,
running away from one's beloved!

I'm glad you've been frank.
Leaving would have been folly.

What would you say if told you
I was planning...

to give you Zosia?

Well? Aren't you
Jumping for joy?

Your goodness thrills me.

But Uncle,
it won't be of help.

It's all in vain!
Telimena won't consent.

We'll ask her!

Nothing will sway her!
No!

My uncle...
just give me your blessing.

Everything is ready.

I'm leaving for the duel.

First the duel,
then love, and this departure.

There's something
behind all this.

Perhaps, young man,

if you have seduced...

Zosia...

and are now trying to run away,
I won't let you.

Like it or not,
you'll marry Zosia, I warn you!

Or you'll be horsewhipped!
Tomorrow you'll be at the altar!

And you talk to me about feelings!
The constancy of your heart!

Now go to bed!

Ungrateful one! You sought my glances,
which you shun today!

As if my looks and words
might poison you.

It serves me right,
you are a man! I knew!

Think it over!
We're being watched!

Can we flaunt our love?
It's improper, it's a sin!

A sin?
You innocent young lamb!

I'm not afraid of love,
even if it shames me.

So why should you, a man, fear it?
Men don't mind admitting

they're courting
ten mistresses at once!

Do not deceive me.

You wish to leave me.

What would people say
about a man who, at my age,

spent his life
in a fields making love,

when so many married men
leaving their wives and children,

to join the army?
And am I free to make a choice?

My father in his will ordered me
to serve in the army.

My uncle repeated that command.
I'm leaving tomorrow.

I've made up my mind,
and Telimena,

I won't change it.

I don't want to bar your path to
glory but to console me, before...

we part, tell me that what you felt
for me was true affection,

and not just a fling
or carnal lust.

Let me know
that my Tadeusz loves me.

Let me hear you say
"I love you" once more.

Telimena...

May lightning strike me if
I say I have no fondness for you,

even, love.

The moments that we shared
were short but sweet...

and tender sort they will
linger in my thoughts for ever.

I never shall
forget you, never!

Since you love me, my darling,
how can you abandon me?

I gave you my heart,
I'll give you my fortune...

and go anywhere in the world
to be with you.

What? Are you raving?

You want to follow me?
To the army?

Like a camp-follower!

Then let's...
get married.

No! Never!

I've no intent to marry you
nor to be your lover.

Be sensible...

and let
this nonsense cease!

I'm grateful,
but our marriage cannot be.

Let's love each other...
but from afar.

Just what I wanted!

Dragon's tongue!
Viper's heart!

For you, I turned down the Assessor,
the Count and the Notary.

You seduced me...

and now you abandon me!
No matter!

You're man,
so I know you're false.

I listened
at your uncle's door.

So Zosia has attracted you!
That's who you covet, you traitor!

You've deceived me
and now seek a new victim.

You won't corrupt others,
as you did me.

Get out!
I despise you!

You're a liar, you're base!

This insult, deadly to a noble,
especially a Soplica,

made Tadeusz shake, grow pale,
bite his lips, and say...

You fool!

Soplical

Ancestral enemy,

I'll punish you
for your misdeed!

You'll account for the wealth
you stole from me.

In the name of the Father

and the Son!
Count!

Are you a bandit?

Does this befit your birth,

your education,
your position in the world?

I won't be wronged!

I arrest you, Count!
In the name of the Tsar.

Surrender your sword,
or I'll summon the army!

As you know,

for an armed attack at night...

the penalty,
by virtue of Decree 1200, is...

This looks like armed robbery!

You've seen nothing.

More are coming. Surrender,
Judge, these are my allies.

By your honor,
by all that is holy, we implore!

Count, dare you refuse?
The ladies are begging you.

You brute,

you'll have to kill us first.

Lady Zosia, Madame Telimena!

This sword won't be stained
with the blood of an unarmed enemy!

Soplicas, you're my prisoners.

Thus did I in Sicily.

Near the crag the Italians call
Birbante Rocca,

capture some brigands.
I slew those who were armed,

and took the others prisoner.

They walked behind my horse,
brightening my triumph,

then were hung on Mount Etna.

The Count had time
to cool his wrath,

and wanted to avoid bloodshed.

So he locked the Soplica family
in their mansion and posted sentries.

"Down with the Soplicas!"
The gentry rushed in,

stormed the estate
and with great ease,

captured it.
But the assailants

wanted to fight.
As the house was locked,

they raided the farm.

Obeying the Count,
Gervazy gave up the fight.

As he couldn't exact vengeance,
he concentrated on his other aim:

reinstalling the Count in
his castle, legally and formally.

So he hunted down Protazy,
grabbed him,

and dragged him into the yard.
Then, drawing his saber, said...

Mr. Apparitor, the Count...

ventures to ask you
to be so kind...

here,
before our brother gentlemen,

to proclaim this instant
that he owns the castle,

the manor and the village,
all the land, sown or fallow,

the woods, forests, meadows,
as marked by milestones,

the peasants and vassals,

et omnibus rebus,
et quibusdam aliis.

Bark it out as you know how,
and don't forget anything!

One minute, Warden!

I'll carry out the orders
of the contending parties,

but I warn you
the act will have no value:

if it was extorted
by violence at night.

What violence?

There is none here.
Did I not ask you politely?

If you can't see clearly enough,
with my Penknife,

I'll kindle a fire so bright...

in front of your eyes
you'll think you're seeing stars!

My little Gervazy,
as Apparitor, I represent the Law.

You can't punish
its representative.

I'll write an act at once...

if someone will bring me
a lantern.

In the meantime:
silence, Gentlemen!

I protest!

Casks of old vodka
mead, and beer,

from the Soplica cellars,
were rolled up to the castle,

which now became
the Count's headquarters.

A hundred fires were lighted:
they roasted...

a profusion of meat,
and drink flowed.

The nobility spent the night
drinking, eating, singing.

Slowly they began to doze, yawn,

eye after eye closed, heads nodded.

They slumped where they sat,

holding a dish, a tankard
or a quarter of beef.

Thus these conquerors
were conquered by Sleep,

the brother of Death.

Major, sir.

What will we do
with all these prisoners?

It's best to settle this quietly.

The Judge will reward us
for our pains.

We'll say they came here on a whim.
That'll please both parties.

We won't make a report,
and no one will find out.

"God gave us hands to take with".
Russian proverb.

Have you gone mad?
You want me to free rebels?

In times like this! You Polish
"lords", I'll teach you to rebel.

Gentlemen scoundrels!
I know what you're like!

Let them get soaked!

Judge, if you want
to hush the whole thing up,

it's 1000 rubles a head.

1000 rubles a head!
That's my last word!

Major, what will you gain
by trying them?

There was no brawl.

Nobody was wounded.
For the supplies they consumed,

they can pay fines
according to the statutes.

I won't press charges
against the Count.

It was a squabble
between neighbors.

You've read the
Yellow Book, Judge?

What book?

It's better than your statutes!
Every other word is:

the rope!

Siberia!

The Whip!

It's the manual of martial law
for Lithuania.

Your tribunals
have no say any more.

- I'll appeal to the Governor!
- Appeal to the Tsar himself.

Did you know that when
the Tsar confirms sentences,

His Majesty often
doubles the punishment?

So go ahead and appeal to him!

And if I want to, Judge,
I can put the screws on you, too:

Jankiel is a spy,

and is your innkeeper.

I can now arrest you all,
this instant, in one fell swoop!

Me? Arrest me?

You wouldn't dare,
without a warrant...

Idiots!

You're all idiots!
The damage you did...

will cost you a pretty penny!

This Major, Polish by birth,

was once called Plutowicz,
but changed his name to Plut.

He's a rogue,
a Pole in the Tsar's army.

A nice catch!

I saw the spoils.
Fleece those noblemen!

Fleece them well!

And keep them tied down,
they're a restless lot.

Congratulations, Major,
for capturing the Count.

He's fat morsel,
a rich young man from old stock.

Don't let him off
for less than 300 ducats.

Major, some stewed beef?

Lieutenant, wouldn't you prefer
bowl of punch?

Major,

today we live,

tomorrow we rot.

All we ever own is
what we've drunk and eaten!

You're right, Father.
It's high time

we ate and drank...

to the Judge's health!

Pretty ladies...

you're the finest of desserts.

As sure as I'm a Major,
after breakfast,

I know of no fonder treat
than a little chitchat...

with lovely ladies.

You know what?

Let's play cards,

vingt-et-un, or whist!

Or better, dance a mazurka!

By a thousand devils!
In my regiment,

I'm the best dancer.

But you know, Major,

we're in here drinking,
and your men are outside, freezing.

Fair is fair!
Give them a drop of vodka!

Surely, the Major will let
his men have a drink?

I can ask you, Judge,
but you don't have to agree.

Give them the strongest you have!

You, Rykov,

stop puffing on your pipe.

I know you're good
at plucking the balalaika.

There's a guitar here.
Take it...

and play us a mazurka.
I, your Major...

will lead the dance.

Faith of a Major, Miss!

I wouldn't be a Russian ifl lied.
I'd be a son of a bitch!

Anyone can tell you...

that in the Second Army,
the Ninth Corps,

Second Infantry Division,
50th Yager regiment,

Major Plut
is the best mazurka dancer!

Come on, young lady,

don't be shy.

Or I'll punish you
as only officers can.

Revolt!

- A rebel!
- Shoot, Tadeusz!

You know how!

Rebellion!

Guards! Rebellion!

Fall in!

Fall in!

Fall in! Ready!

Aim!

Fire!

Thomas!

My Saber!

Judge!

Surrender!
Or I'll burn your house down!

You'll roast in that fire!

Company!

Aim!

This will end badly.

There will be no one left
to give orders.

Gentleman,

you Polish, aren't you ashamed,
to hide behind a tree?

Don't be a coward!

Come out in the open...

and fight like a man of honor!

I'm not afraid of you!

Come out!

I slapped you
and am ready to fight!

Choose your weapon!

If you refuse,
I'll cut you down like wolves.

Major, fight him. Avenge
what he did to you this morning.

I cannot desert my soldiers.
I'm in command here.

Rykov, my friend,

you're good swordsman.

You fight him.

Or even better:
let's send a lieutenant.

Tadeusz Soplica, let me fight.

I have an insult to avenge,
Rykov invaded my castle...

Say our castle!

...at the head of this
ruffians.

He tied up my men.

I'll punish him,
as I punished the bandits

in Sicily at
Birbante Rocca!

Put a bullet in his heart,
and you get 4 rubles.

Captain!
You surrender without dishonor.

Unhappy but valiant knight,
you've proven your worth.

Abandon this hopeless combat.

Put down your arms
before you're forced to.

Save lives and honor.

You're my prisoner.

What a misfortune not to have
had a single cannon.

Suvorov used to say:
"Remember this:

never attack Poles

unless you have cannons...

At ease!

Brothers!

God today favored our weapons!

But... I must tell you...

in plain terms...

that this battle
will have evil consequences.

We did wrong!

We're all at fault here.

Father Robak,
for spreading rumors.

You, for misinterpreting them.

The war with Russia
won't begin soon.

Many of you
who fought here

won't be safe in Lithuania now.

Flee to the Duchy of Warsaw!

He who quarrels
with the Tsar of Russia...

will never have peace again
in his life!

He has to keep fighting!
Or rot in Siberia!

We'll blame this incident
on those of you...

who have fled,

and on Major Plut,
so we'll save our own skins.

I won't say good-bye.
I hope that by spring,

Lithuania will be free again.

And the country
that you left as fugitives...

will see you come back
as liberators.

You Poles think
that all Russians are rogues.

But say, if anyone asks you,
that you once knew, a captain, named...

Nikita Nikitich Rykov, decorated
with 8 medals and 3 crosses.

This one for Otchakov,
lsmailov,

Novi, llov,

and Korsakov's famous retreat
from Zurich.

He received a sword for valor,
3 approvals from the Field-Marshal,

2 from the Tsar, and 4
honorable mentions, all in writing.

But, Captain,
what will become of us...

if you let us down?

Is your word good?

You Poles!
Your homeland!

I, Rykov, understand. I obey
the Tsar, but feel sorry for you.

What have we against you?

Russia for the Russians,
Poland for the Poles!

But the Tsar doesn't see it
that way.

Captain, you're a brave man,
everyone knows it here,

you've lived among us
for years.

Good friend, be not angry
at this gift, we meant no offense.

We collected these ducats,
because you're not a rich man.

A" my yagers!
My whole company!

Destroyed!
It was all Plut's fault.

He's the Major.
He'll answer for to the Tsar.

But keep your money.
My captain's pay isn't generous,

but it's enough for my punch
and my pipe.

I like you. With you,
I eat, drink, and am merry.

You can count on me
to defend you.

At the inquiry, I promise...

to testify for you.

I'll say we came on a visit,

that we had a drink,
danced, and got a bit tipsy,

and that Plut accidentally
gave the word to fire.

He started it
and lost his regiment.

Plut is alive,

he may play a trick on you.

He's a cunning fellow.

We need to stuff his mouth
with bank notes.

You, the gentleman
with the long sword,

have you called on Plut?
Have you spoken to him?

Will Plut keep quiet?
Did he give his word?

I swear it on my Penknife:
Plut won't betray us.

He'll talk no more...
to anyone.

"One day
the wolf becomes prey".

May he rest in peace!

Though God
pointed the way.

I'm not guilty of this blood.
I knew nothing.

Warden, you'll answer
heavily for this to God.

There's only one excuse for it.
If it was done

not out of stupid revenge,
but...

in the public interest.

Pro bono publico!

I must tell you what I know
since yesterday with certainty:

Tadeusz is sincerely
taken with Zosia.

He must propose
before he leaves.

I have spoken to Telimena,

Zosia agrees to the wishes
of her tutors.

My good uncle,
I'd be happy to be married,

to have Zosia...

as my wife.

I'll be frank:
today, it's impossible.

For several reasons:
I'm leaving for a long time.

A new man may win her.

I don't wish to bind her will,

to beg for affection
I haven't deserved.

That would be unworthy.

If we can't marry this
young couple, let's betroth them...

before they're separated.
You know how often...

a young traveler
is exposed to temptation.

But when he glances
at his ring,

the young man remembers...

that he's already betrothed,

and the fever of seduction
soon cools in him.

Believe me,
a ring has great power.

I, myself, 30 years ago...

Perhaps I shall soon return
To my country. Then, uncle...

I'll remember
your promise...

and get on my knees to beg Zosia
for her hand, if she's still free.

Father, what do you think?
He loves her,

and Zosia and Telimena
have agreed.

My Son!

May God protect you!

You still won't tell him,
my brother?

Still the poor lad remain in
ignorance now that he's leaving us?

No!

Nothing!

Why should he know...

that his father is hiding...

like a scoundrel,
or a murderer?

God knows how much I longed
to tell him my name.

I sacrificed that desire to God
to atone for my sins.

You're leaving so soon?

I have a present for you
and a warning, too.

Always carry these relics
wherever you may be

and this picture also,
and remember me.

God guide you safely
on you way and bless with

quick return in health
and happiness.

Miss...

I must now bid you good-bye.

Keep well,

think of me...

and sometimes,
say a prayer for me,

Zosia...

Count, why do you
insist on departing?

You'll be safe...

on your estate.

You know the government
we're dealing with.

They'll fine you less
than half of your income!

That doesn't suit me at all!

Since I can't be a lover,
I'll be a hero.

But what prevents you
from loving and being happy?

The power of my destiny.

Alas! I see that nothing
can keep you here.

When you lead your regiment
into battle, glance tenderly...

at these ribbons
from your beloved.

May they protect you
under the fore of cannons,

against shining spears
and sulfurous rains.

And when
through your warlike deeds,

you're covered with laurels,

remember the hand
that pinned these colors on you.

Dear Count,

it's late.

It's time to think of yourself.

At your age,
and in your weak condition,

you can't leave with the others.

Time is running out for me.
Send for the parish priest...

to give me the last rites.
Send away everyone but Gervazy.

I am Jacek Soplica!

In the name of Holy God!
So it's the truth!

It's you

You're Jacek, you're a Soplica...
In a monk's cowl...

you lived by begging! The
mustachioed Jacek, a begging monk!

Great is Divine Justice! Now...

you won't escape me!

Gervazy,

no more do I fear the anger
of men. I am already

under the hand of God.

I swore it! Whoever spilled
a drop of Horeszko blood...

I entreat you
in the name of Christ,

who forgave his murderers,

to relent...

and hear in patience
what I have to say.

You know, Gervazy,

how often Horeszko invited me
to his table. He toasted me,

proclaiming,
as he raised his glass,

that he had no better friend
than Jacek Soplica.

If he'd agreed to the marriage
how happy we'd have been!

Who knows, perhaps
we'd all still be living?

But now?

He destroyed us both.
His daughter and I. That murder...

and all its consequences,
all my sufferings,

all my transgressions...

But I have no right to accuse him,
I am his murderer.

I forgive him,
with all my heart.

But he, too... If he hadn't
invited me, who knows?

Maybe I'd have left.

I went up to the gate.
Satan enticed me the there.

During the Russian assault.

I watched them. You know
how they stormed your castle...

but I was not in league
with the Russians...

Your defense was courageous,
you know it.

Russians fell all around me.
Those brutes aim badly.

But with their defeat,
my rage came back:

Horeszko would be the winner!

I seized a gun,
raised it to my shoulder,

I scarcely aimed,
the shot went off.

A single spark brought death.
Did I flee

when you aimed at me from above?
I stared at the barrels of your gun.

A strange grief
pinned me to the ground.

Why? Gervazy...

Why did you miss me?

God knows...

I sincerely wished to hit you.
How much blood you shed...

with your one shot!
How many disasters...

have fallen upon us
and your family.

All through your fault, Jacek.

Yet when today
the Russians shot at the Count,

who is Horeszko on his mother's side,
you protected him.

And when the Russians shot at me,
you threw me to the ground.

You saved the Count's life and mine.

Farewell.

I'll set foot no more upon
your threshold. We are even.

Now it's up to God!

I implore you to remain,
this won't take long.

I hardly have the strength
to conclude.

Warden, tonight I shall die.

What, brother?

This wound is trifling.

Why call the priest?
You're just poorly bandaged.

You need the doctor.
In my medicine chest, I have...

It's too late, brother.

My old wound from the battle
of Jena healed poorly.

It opened again,
and gangrene has set in.

I know about wounds:

when blood is black as soot,
what can a doctor do?

But that counts little. We die
but once, it doesn't matter when.

Gervazy, forgive me,
I must finish...

I slew him less...

out of hatred than foolish arrogance.
So I had to humble myself.

I became a monk,
an alms-gathering monk.

Did I exceed my instructions
by preaching rebellion?

Who knows,
maybe I have sinned anew?

You wanted revenge?
You have it.

To free Poland was the
supreme goal of my life,

my last worldly hope on earth,

an idea I cherished
like my dearest child,

and you have shattered it.
And I forgive you!

You!

To sadden a dying man
is a crime, I know.

I'll tell you something
that maybe...

will console you.

When my late master
was wounded,

and when I, on my knees,
leaned over his chest,

wetting my saber with his blood,
swearing to avenge him,

he shook his head...

and pointing at the gate
where you stood,

he drew a cross in the air,
letting me know...

that he forgave his murderer.
I understood it, too.

But so great was my rage...

that of that sign of the cross,
I never said a word.

War!

Napoleon has declared war...

on Russia.

Bonaparte has proclaimed it
to the world.

Peace to this house!

Now let your servant,
Lord, go in peace!

Spring! Happy is he
who beheld it in our country!

Memorable spring
of was and abundance.

Spring! You bloomed
with flowers, corn, and grass,

men in glittering uniforms,

heavy with events,
rich with hope.

I see you still,
like a beautiful dream.

Born in slavery,
chained from the cradle,

I saw but one such spring
in my life.

Soplicowo was beside the Niemen.
Two generals had crossed it:

our Prince Joseph and King Jerome.

Having entered Lithuania,

the troops got three days' rest...

But the Polish soldiers...

protested this,

so eager were they
to fight the Russians.

The Prince halted
in a neighboring town,

but Soplicowo had a camp of
40.000 men. And Generals Dobrowski,

Kniaziewicz, Ma achowski,
Giedrojc and Grabowski.

Yes, yes, my dear Protazy.

Yes, my dear Gervazy.

Strange have been
the destinies of Poland...

...and Lithuania.

So like a married couple!

God joins them, the devil divides.
God says white, the devil says black.

Zosia, whose hand
Tadeusz asked in marriage

a year ago already,
is now betrothed.

"Miss Zosia",
now she should be called.

She's grown up,

she's no longer a child,

she's of noble descent,
the grand-daughter of Horeszko.

The destiny of this young lady is to
reconcile the two warring families.

Zosia, you must tell me this at all.
cost, before we exchange rings.

You were ready to give me
your promise last winter.

At that time I did not accept
such a forced consent.

Maybe you were only
accepting me...

to obey your uncle and aunt.

Marriage is a serious matter.
Listen to your heart,

not to the entreaties
of an uncle or an aunt.

If you feel nothing
but friendship for me,

we can postpone our betrothal.
I cannot bind you.

We'll wait, Zosia.

Before you left,
if you remember,

Father Robak died that
stormy night,

and you were very sad
to be leaving,

you had tears in your eyes.

Those tears deeply
touched my heart.

Since then, I've trusted you.

Yes, yes, my dear Gervazy.

Yes, my dear Protazy.

Had Zosia been counseled...

to dress that way,
or was it her instinct?

A young girl
knows what suits her best.

In any case, that morning,

Telimena had scolded her
for refusing...

to dress fashionably.

But her tears prevailed,
and she wore her village costume.

All admired her and applauded.
One officer took out some paper,

sharpened a pencil,
gazed at Zosia...

and began to draw.

The Judge immediately
recognized this artist:

The Count,
though he had greatly changed,

with his warrior's air,
his mustache and goatee.

How are you, noble Count?

You keep a traveling painter's kit
in your cartridge box?

It was indeed the Count,

not long a soldier,

but a wealthy one,

who'd formed his own regiment,
fought well in his first battle,

so Napoleon made him a colonel.
The Judge greeted him

and congratulated him. But the Count
concentrated on his sketch.

Betrothed to the Notary,

Telimena flashed all her beauty,

bedecked in the latest fashion.

Do my eyes deceive me?

In my presence,
you hold another man's hand?

Have you forgotten your vows?

I was duped!
Why did I wear these ribbons?

Only across my body,
will my rival reach the altar!

I'm not a Notary's wife yet!
You can stop me from becoming one,

if you answer right away.

Do you love me?
Is your heart unchanged?

Will you marry me at once?
If so, I'll give up the Notary.

O woman beyond comprehension!

Once your feelings were poetic.
Today you seem to me...

altogether prosaic.
Who knows?

Maybe the Earth so yearns for the
Sun yet remains dear to the Moon,

solely because these stars,
as they get closer,

can never meet!

Enough of that!
I'm not a planet!

I'm a woman, Count!

I know what's coming next,
stop this chatter.

I warn you: if you say one word
that could jeopardize my marriage,

these nails will scratch out
your eyes!

Fear not for your happiness!

Tadeusz and Zosia
didn't sit at the table.

They waited upon
their peasants.

For such was the ancient custom:

at the first feast,
the masters act as servants.

I need your counsel
on a serious matter.

My uncle is not opposed to this.

The villages that I possess
rightly belong to you.

Now that we've recovered
our dear country,

why should the peasants get
nothing more than new masters?

Let's grant them their freedom.

Let's give them the land
they were born on,

where they toil,
grow our bread, and make us rich.

It's not for me, a woman, to decide.
I'm too young to advise you.

I'll accept
whatever you decide.

You'll be clearer
still to my heart...

if, by freeing the villagers,
you make us poorer.

Let me tend to our home.

You'll see how fast
I'll learn to manage it!

No one dared to play...

on the dulcimer
in Jankiel's presence.

So they begged him to play
but he refused and said...

My hands are stiff.

I don't dare play before
such distinguished company.

He bowed.
Zosia came up to him.

Jankiel...

...she said...

I beg of you, play,
this is my betrothal.

Play, dear Jankiel.

You promised me you would.

Now it's time...
to dance a polonaise!

The Chamberlain advanced
rolled up his sleeves,

twirled his mustache,
offered his arm to Zosia,

and, with a polite bow,
invited her to dance.

Lithuania! My country!
You are like health.

Your worth is only known
to those who have lost you.

Today, your beauty I see
and can describe,

because I yearn for you.

Holy Virgin
who guards Czestochowa...

and shines above the Ostra Gate,

who protects our country
and its faithful people,

who restored me as a child to life,

when placed in your care
by my weeping mother...

you opened my dying eyes,
thus enabling me...

to walk to your shrine...

to thank God for the life
you gave back to me.

Now, by such a miracle,
return me to my country.

Carry my grieving soul...

to those hills and green meadows,
that stretch along the blue Niemen,

to those many-hued
fields of grain,

of golden wheat,

and silvery rye.

Translators: M. Lesniewski
& A. Whitelaw

Subtitles: Adam Szostak