My sisters and I remembered that|winter as our chiIdhood's coIdest.
A temporary poverty had hit|our famiIy some years before.
The war made fueI|and Iamp oiI scarce.
The war made fueI|and Iamp oiI scarce.
But necessity is|the mother of invention.
Somehow in that dark time, the|March famiIy created its own Iight.
We've expectorated you for hours!
- ''Expected'', featherhead !|- Marmee, you're frozen.
- So many peopIe at Hope House!|- You finished the bundIes?
So many this year! We handed out . . .|How's your coId?
We gave them out|as fast as we made them.
Now, Miss Amy,|what's in my pocket?
''Dearest famiIy.|I am weII and safe.''
''Our battaIion is encamped|on the Potomac.''
''December is coId for us,|so far from home.''
''I think of my girIs day and night.|It comforts me.''
''I pray your own hardships may not|be too great. Give them my Iove.''
''TeII them I think of them by day,|pray for them by night.''
I'm a seIfish girI.
It's Christmas Eve.|Father wouIdn't want us to be sad.
To bed, Miss Amy. Merry Christmas.
- Merry Christmas.|- I Iove you.
- My Jo . . . Merry Christmas.|- Merry Christmas, Marmee.
- Don't sit up too Iate.|- I won't.
At night, my mind came alive -
- with voices and friends|as dear to me as my real ones.
l gave myself up to it,|longing for transformation.
What miracuIous food ! Isn't this|just Iike the oId days, Hannah?
- We shouId just Iook at it!|- Jo, come down.
I'm awake!|HorribIe piano . . .
- Hannah's made a Christmas miracIe.|- Is that sausage?
Butter! Isn't butter divinity?|God, thank you for this breakfast.
Fetch Marmee. She went out at dawn|to see some Germans.
''HummeI,'' the boy said.|No EngIish. His dad's gone.
Six chiIdren, and another coming.
May as weII take them firewood,|they haven't any. Or breakfast.
We couId send the HummeIs|our bread.
And the butter, too.|It's not much use without bread.
- WonderfuI snow!|- WouIdn't you Iike to roII in it?
Once one of our finest famiIies.
- LoveIy weather for a picnic.|- Come on, Theodore. We'II be Iate.
Jo, Iet them speak first.|What wiII they think of us?
Don't Iook back!
''Knights and Iadies,|monks and fIowergirIs, -
- aII mingIed in the dance.''
''PauIine cried out|as the groom's mask feII.''
''It was not her Iover Ferdinand,|but his sworn enemy Count Antonio.''
''Revenge is mine,'' quoth he.
- ''Continued in the next edition.''|- ExceIIent, Mr. Snodgrass!
- I Iove forbidden marriages!|- You ought to pubIish it, Jo.
What's wrong with our newspaper,|Mr. Tupman?
''One periwink . . . Advertisement.''
''One periwinkIe sash has been|abscondated from the wash Iine.''
''A gentIeman desires any reports|Ieading to its recovery.''
GentIemen of the press:|Hear, hear!
''I caII your attention to|Mr. Tupman's History of the Squash.''
- This is a recipe, Beth !|- I never know what to write.
The first ruIe of writing is,|never write what you know.
What do you think of the boy?
Is he a captive Iike Smee|in ''NichoIas NickIeby''?
He Iooks IoneIy.
Maybe he has a secret.|A tragic, European secret.
He was reared in ItaIy|among artists and vagrants.
He has a nobIe brow. If I was a boy,|I'd Iike to Iook Iike that.
Imagine giving up ItaIy to come|and Iive with that awfuI oId man.
I'd be terrified to Iive with him.
I'd Iike to Iive in|such a fine house with nice things.
It doesn't seem Iike Christmas|without presents.
I'm desperate for drawing penciIs.
I wish I didn't have to work|for Great-Aunt March.
What's your Christmas wish, Beth?
I'd Iike the war to end,|so Father can come home.
- Sweet Beth ! We aII want that.|- They have a beautifuI piano.
When I'm a writer,|I'II buy you the best piano ever.
Or eIse you can pIay on mine. When|I marry, I'II be disgustingIy rich.
What if the man you Iove|is poor but good, Iike Father?
It's not Iike being stuck with a|dreadfuI nose. One can choose.
I wouIdn't marry for money.|What if his business goes bust?
The EagIe pays five doIIars a story.|I have ten in my head right now.
GentIemen !|I disIike aII this money taIk.
If Iack of attention to finance|is refinement, -
- then the Marches are|the most eIegant famiIy in Concord.
We'II aII grow up one day, Meg.|We might as weII know what we want.
- Put the carriage away. QuickIy!|- Merry Christmas.
I have a wonderfuI feeIing.
TeII me aII about BeIIe Gardiner.|About her nose and her ring.
Annie says it's an emeraId.|Everyone's Iucky but me!
I'm gIad I don't have to go and be|with aII those frightening peopIe.
Jo, don't eat much at supper, and|don't shake hands . . . Your dress!
You stand too cIose to the fire.|Just keep your back to the waII.
- What cunning IittIe heeIs!|- They're rather smaII.
It's onIy one night. WiII anyone|notice they're from the rag bag?
You have to have heeIs.
What's that strange smeII?
Like burnt feathers . . .
- Heavens above!|- You've ruined me!
You shouIdn't have had me do it.|I spoiI everything.
- I can't go out Iike this.|- Good. I'm not going either.
We'II pIace my bow in front.
Yes, that covers it.
I'II never have suitors.|I'II be an oId spinster.
You don't need scores of suitors,|onIy one. The right one.
- Listen to the chiId !|- Meg won't be married right away.
With Jo's heIp, I never wiII.
- You must be so happy!|- It's enchanting.
I'd best go heIp Mama.|Excuse me.
- Jehosephat! I'm sorry.|- Stay! It's a good hiding pIace.
I feeI awkward just|standing and staring at peopIe.
ShouId I put on my jacket?|I don't know the ruIes.
I'm Laurie.|Theodore Laurence . . . caIIed Laurie.
Jo March.|So, who were you staring at?
- At you. What game was that?|- I don't know, but I think I won.
I was quite taken with . . . that one.
That's Meg.|That's my sister.
She's compIeteIy baId in front.
Is it true you Iived in ItaIy|among artists and vagrants?
My mother was ItaIian. A pianist.
- Grandfather disapproved of her.|- I saw a pIay Iike that.
Do you Iike the theatre?|Were you born there?
- Where . .? In ItaIy.|- Do you speak French or ItaIian?
EngIish at home. Francais a l'école.|Music Conservatory, -
- but Grandfather got me a tutor.|He insists I go to coIIege.
I'd commit murder to go to coIIege!
ActuaIIy, I'm going to Europe.|At Ieast, I hope I am.
My great-aunt says she'II go soon.|I work as her companion.
I have to read to her for hours.|But I do aII the voices.
Were I not going to be a writer, I'd|go to New York and pursue the stage.
- Are you shocked?|- Very!
Sorry! Meg makes me|take the gentIeman's part.
A shame you don't know|the Iady's part!
Are you Iooking|at the back of my dress?
You promised you wouIdn't Iook!
- I've sprained my ankIe.|- It's the shoes. Does it hurt?
- No! I'm quite weII.|- This is our neighbour Laurie.
- I'II get Mrs. Gardiner.|- No, she'II think it's the punch.
- A perfectIy good party ruined.|- Let me take you home.
Thank you !
Here, Iean on me.|Thank you, Mr. Laurence.
- Bye, Laurie!|- Wherever did you get this shoe?
Did you ride in his carriage? You're|so Iucky. Is he very romantic?
- Not in the sIightest.|- He's a dreadfuI boy.
He was wise to use snow.
He put snow on her ankIe?|With his own hands?
- Stop being so swoony.|- You mustn't be siIIy about boys.
- Does this hurt?|- Everything IoveIy happens to Meg.
Don't be soppy about Laurie.|I hope we'II be good friends.
- With a boy?|- He isn't a boy. He's Laurie.
The young Iadies are|unusuaIIy active, if I may say so.
GirIs need exertion just Iike boys.|Feminine weakness is the resuIt -
- of keeping them at home, bent over|needIework, in restrictive corsets.
Your young student is an athIete.
He is, thank you. A good one.|But he's an unruIy schoIar.
I regret that his grandfather|is away much.
One hopes that your girIs|wiII be a gentIing infIuence.
Must you speak to everyone|about corsets?
BIast these wretched skirts!
- Don't say ''bIast''.|- Amy, don't be such a ninny-pinny.
I wish I was Beth,|so I couId stay home.
If you Iike Iaundry and housework!
- BIast!|- Amy, hurry. I'II be Iate for work.
There's Mrs. King.|I'm tardy again.
- LoveIy chiIdren !|- Meg, must I go to schooI?
I'm so degradetated.|I owe at Ieast a dozen Iimes.
- Are Iimes the fashion?|- It's nothing but Iimes now.
Everyone keeps them in their desks|and trades them for beads.
If you don't bring Iimes, you're|nothing. I can't pay anyone back.
No wonder you don't Iearn anything.
I know how it feeIs to do without|Iuxuries. We're not destitute yet.
Here's a quarter. Marmee|gave me the rag money this month.
''SecondIy,|the immortaIity of the souI -
- is asserted to be in consequence|of its immateriaIity, -
- as in aII Ieipothymic cases -
- consistent with|the idea of immortaIity.''
''And immoraIity and physicaIity . . .''
. . . and I think|you finaIIy dozed off.
Josephine!|There's a draught!
Is it Father?
Teacher struck me.|He put the Iimes out into the snow.
May Chester said|my Iimes were for the homeIess.
So I said|she wouIdn't get any from me.
So she toId Mr. Davis they were|in my desk, and he struck me.
- I'II beat the tar out of him !|- Jo, we must not embrace vioIence.
- I wiII write him a Ietter.|- That'II show him.
You didn't say they were forbidden.|A month's rag money!
- I shouIdn't have given it to you.|- I'm sorry. AII those IoveIy Iimes.
- I'm perfectIy desoIated.|- It's a frivoIous concern.
You're more concerned with your nose|than your character.
It's an appaIIing schooI.|Your speIIing's atrocious.
Mr. Davis said it was as usefuI|to educate a woman as a cat.
I'II strangIe Mr. Davis!
''Mr. Davis . . . What right have you|to strike a chiId?''
''In God's eyes we are aII chiIdren.|If you hit and humiIiate a chiId, -
- the onIy Iesson she wiII Iearn|is to hit and humiIiate.''
Can you discipIine yourseIf to|Iearn at home, as Beth has done?
- I withdraw Amy from your schooI.|- Serves him right!
Jo wiII now|supervise your education.
Jo, teII me what happens next.
After the duke renounces his fortune|and saves Lady Zara . . .
I don't know. It's aII murder.|The damseI's in distress.
I Iove your damseIs in distress.
Beth, truIy, I don't know if|I couId ever be good Iike Marmee.
I rather crave vioIence.
If onIy I couId be Iike Father,|and go to war and fight injustice.
- So Marmee does, in her own way.|- Yes . . .
I want to do something different.|I don't know what, I'm on the watch.
You'II find it, Jo.
Jo! Come over here! You too, Meg !|It's dead as tombs around here.
One doesn't shout at Iadies|Iike cattIe.
What do those girIs do aII day?
Over the mysteries of femaIe Iife|is drawn a veiI -
- best Ieft undisturbed.
''Dear Countess, pray for me, -
- for I have sinned against myseIf|and my brother Roderigo.''
You've got to say ''sinned''|as if you've really sinned.
Roderigo: You arrive,|seeking the Duke of Lancashire.
Hark, ye! Who goes there?|I forgot the cymbaIs.
I want to be Lady VioIet.|I'm exhaustified of being the boy.
''The pIay's the thing,'' Amy.|You're too IittIe to be Lady VioIet.
- Be the Countess de Montanescu.|- You've no Iines.
Besides, who'd be Roderigo?
GentIemen . . .
I propose a new member for|our theatricaI society:
- He'II Iaugh at us.|- He'II think it's onIy a game.
- He won't. I promise.|- We'd have to guard our conduct.
We bare our souIs and teII secrets.
- He wouId find us improper.|- Teddy wouId certainIy not!
PIease! Let's try him, shaII we?
- Traitor!|- Artists! May I present myseIf . . .
. . . as an actor, musician, -
- and a IoyaI and humbIe servant|of the cIub.
In token of my gratitude|and to promote communication, -
- shouting from the windows|being forbidden, I shaII provide -
- a post office in our hedge.
To further encourage|the baring of our souIs -
- and the teIIing of our secrets.
I do pIedge never to reveaI|what I hear in confidence here.
WeII then . . .
- Do take your pIace, Roderigo.|- Sir Roderigo.
So Laurie was admitted|into our society.
And we enjoyed the daily novelty|of having our own real brother.
- l want to go to the theatre!|- No. Where are the opera gIasses?
You're just hogging Laurie.|PIease, can't I go?
Laurie onIy reserved four seats.|Do I Iook shabby?
It's not a coronation, just Laurie|and that awfuI Mr. Brooke.
- Ask him for another ticket.|- No.
- You've a coId. Rest your eyes.|- We'II make ginger tea.
You're weeks behind in aIgebra.|I won't have an ignorant sister.
Don't suIk,|you Iook Iike a pigeon.
You'II be sorry, Jo March !
Mrs. NeII Watson,|wasn't she a wonderfuI swooner?
- If onIy I were the swooning type.|- And I the catching type!
Young Laurence says you are|an aficionado of the theatre.
I enjoy reading pIays.
Yes,|I find it most pIeasurabIe myseIf.
But I am distracted at the theatre,|thinking of actors' pecuIiar Iives.
With such immodesties, one wonders|what sort of Iady wants such a Iife.
Meg is a sensationaI actress.|We put on wiId theatricaIs.
It's just something that we pIay at.
WeII, as a matter of fact,|at schooI . . .
What do you think of that?|Let's see what they do!
I had a wonderfuI time, Mr. Brooke.
It was a most deIightfuI evening.
- Thank you very much. Goodnight!|- Goodnight!
- That was rude.|- You pIastered yourseIf on him.
- It's proper to take a man's arm.|- How was the theatre?
It was wonderfuI. I was absoIuteIy|inspired by the Iove scene.
You Iook fIushed.|Was the theatre overcrowded?
Where did I put my manuscript?
I didn't do it!
I'm going to kiII you !
How couId you do this to me?
Jo, stop it!|You're hurting her.
- Let her go. What's happened?|- I hate you !
Don't touch it, just Iet it go.
You're dead ! You're nothing !
I never want to see you again !
It's a great Ioss.|You have every right to be put out.
But don't Iet the sun go down on|your anger. Forgive each other.
- Begin again tomorrow.|- I'II never forgive her.
I'm sorry, Jo.
Looks Iike the Iast ice this year.
- Say ''go''.|- Wait for me.
Ignore her.|Ready . . . BIast!
HoId on !
HoId on, Amy!
Get a raiI !
Grab it, Amy!
HoId on !
There we go.|That's it, that's it.
Josephine March, you waIked from|WaIden Pond in just bIoomers?
- As if she noticed ! Dear Amy.|- How couId I be so horribIe?
- Thank God for Laurie.|- Do you Iove him more than me?
Don't be a beetIe! I couId never|Iove anyone as I Iove my sisters.
You Ieft out the part where Lady|Zara succumbs to the duke's rivaI.
Right! Sir Hugo . . .
I quite prefer him myseIf.
ln the spring, we prepared for Meg|to go to Sally Moffat's coming-out.
Myself, l'd sooner be hung|than attend a fancy ball.
Wait untiI aII Boston sees you !
I toId Laurie to keep you from being|a waIIfIower upon penaIty of death.
Where is that miserabIe gIove?
AbigaiI, I shake my head|at how you're managing Margaret.
How is she to be married|without a proper début?
Things wiII not change|with your husband's return.
My nephew is as fooIish with money|as with his new phiIosophies.
The one hope for your famiIy|is for Margaret to marry weII.
Though I don't know|who marries governesses.
And this one is entireIy ruined|with books. Are those for me?
They're for Meg to take with her.|Marmee, she's Iost a gIove!
She can't go without gIoves.|They're society.
You're right. She may borrow mine.
- Meg ! You can take Marmee's!|- Oh, dear . . .
- More tea?|- No thank you !
SaIIy Moffat, you won't be abIe|to draw your Iaces.
At my coming-out,|l didn't eat for weeks.
- I do Iike that coIour on you.|- It's just Iike forget-me-nots.
I haven't seen such fabric|for years.
- But you had it made up so pIain.|- WeII, I do my own sewing, and . . .
Mrs. Finster has siIk pieces|ready-made. I'II take you there.
The Marches don't buy siIk.|They have views on sIavery.
Didn't your father's schooI cIose|when he admitted a dark girI?
Mrs Finster's siIk isn't from|the South. It's from LinfieId.
- This isn't China siIk?|- The siIk miIIs use chiId Iabour.
''The poor are aIways with us.''|You're so good to remind us.
May I teII you something?
This is an afternoon dress.|I'II make you my pet.
Hortense, viens ici.
Tonight, Miss March|shaII have many conquests.
You have no corset!
The next dance is the poIka.|With me.
I wouId dance with you,|but I fear for my new sIippers.
My credo is: Don't tread on me!
Miss March . . . I thought your famiIy|were temperance peopIe?
Don't cover up. Maybe someone|hasn't seen aII your charms.
And I promised Jo I'd show you off.
- The girIs dressed me. I Iike it.|- It reveals a whoIe new Meg.
What do you caII this?
Meg . . .
PIease don't teII Jo|how I've behaved.
If you won't teII about me.
I just wanted to see how it feIt|to be BeIIe Gardiner.
- AII those proposaIs and gIoves.|- You're worth ten of those girIs.
Have you seen the way the March girI|went after the Laurence heir?
This ridicuIous dress!|I keep tripping over it.
Tie some of it around your neck,|where it can do some good.
I don't Iike peopIe specuIating|about Laurie and Meg.
Nothing provokes specuIation|Iike a woman enjoying herseIf.
- Why may Laurie fIirt and drink?|- And no one thinks Iess of him?
For one practicaI reason:|Laurie is a man.
So he may vote, hoId property|and pursue any profession.
And so he is not so easiIy demeaned.
- Who cares what peopIe think?|- I do.
It's nice to be praised and admired.|I couIdn't heIp but Iike it.
I onIy care|what you think of yourseIf.
If you feeI your vaIue Iies|in being decorative, I fear -
- one day you may think that's aII|you are. Time erodes beauty, -
- but not|the wonderfuI workings of your mind.
Your humour, your kindness . . .|and your moraI courage.
These are the things|I cherish in you.
I wish it was a just worId. I know|you'II make it a better pIace.
No, I don't want them.|Keep the music too.
You need your books in coIIege.|Here's Dombey and Son.
HonestIy, I won't need|aII of Dickens at Harvard.
No, you'II have|more important things to read.
Nothing's going to change, Jo.
- I wish I couId go.|- I wish you couId, too.
You'II come back knowing things|I don't know, and I'II hate you !
As it happens, I aIready know|something you don't know.
About Meg|and a certain former tutor, -
- soon to be empIoyed|at Laurence and Laurence.
Has Meg misIaid a certain personaI|articIe, such as . . .
. . . a gIove?
- John Brooke stoIe your gIove!|- What gIove? The white one?
He's had it forever.|He keeps it in his pocket!
- Don't you think he must return it?|- What I think doesn't matter.
A teIegram from Washington HospitaI.
Your father's been wounded.
- You'II have enough for the month.|- Don't worry.
- Look in on the HummeIs for me.|- I wiII.
BattIing Aunt March|for Marmee's ticket.
- John . . . Mr. Brooke.|- I wiII escort your mother.
Cook packed supper, and there's|a bottIe of spirits for Mr. March.
Mr. Brooke is here.
I'm no Ionger a tutor. Mr. Laurence|has work for me in Washington.
- We couIdn't Iet you traveI aIone.|- How kind of you !
- We'II take the six o'cIock train?|- Yes, I sent Jo . . .
FinaIIy . . . 25!|Can Aunt March spare it?
I couIdn't bear to ask her . . .
- I soId my hair.|- Jo, your one beauty!
- It'II grow back.|- It suits you.
TeII Father that we Iove him.
TeII him we pray for him.
I shaII miss my IittIe women !
Are you thinking about Father?
No, my hair . . .
Wait for me!
- BIast! This stove . . .|- We'II eat them anyway.
There's no corn meaI or coffee.|We can't get credit.
- What can I bring the HummeIs?|- Oh, fry the HummeIs!
- The boys are sick.|- I mustn't teII Marmee.
I hate money!
I don't understand.|I brought a . . .
- Laurie's home!|- He must need funds.
We'd get a week's food|from his biIIiard money.
Meg, I soId ''The Lost Duke of|GIoucester''! Five whoIe doIIars!
- I'm an author . . . Beth?|- The HummeI baby is sick.
I feeI so strange.
She's hot, but she feeIs coId.|She's thirsty, but won't drink.
- Arsenic? BeIIadonna?|- I saw the HummeIs.
Two chiIdren are dead from scarIet|fever. You and Miss Jo have had it.
But, Miss Amy . . .|We must send you away.
She won't die, wiII she, Laurie?
God won't Iet her die.
I don't want to go away.
I'II come every day, I swear.|You won't be aIone.
I'm afraid of Aunt March.
If she's unkind to you,|I'II take come and take you away.
- Where wiII we go?|- Paris?
If I die of scarIet fever, give Meg|my box with the green doves on it.
- Jo can have my turquoise ring.|- I'II see to it.
I don't want to die.|I've never even been kissed.
I've waited my whoIe Iife|to be kissed. What if I miss it?
I'II teII you what . . .
I promise to kiss you|before you die.
Marmee mustn't Ieave Father.
- Beth needs her.|- What if Father gets worse?
And how wouId we pay for the train?
''That he profane not|my sancteraries . . .''
- Sanctuaries.|- Sanctuaries.
''For I the Lord do sanctify them.''
''And Moses toId it unto Aaron,|and to aII the chiIdren of IsraeI.''
''And the Lord said to Moses . . .''
Jo, Mr. Laurence is here.
If we may, my personaI physician|wiII examine the IittIe girI.
There's nothing to be done.|If I bIeed her, it wiII finish her.
Best to send for the mother.
I've aIready done so.|Mrs. March arrives tonight.
Cricket, Marmee's here.
Icy coId !
Jo, fetch a basin of vinegar, water,|and some rags. Meg, my kit.
We'II draw the fever down|from her head.
Beth . . .
And so our Beth came back to us,|although fever weakened her heart.
We did not know|that a shadow had fallen.
We prepared for another Christmas|without Father.
- Try each corner.|- No! One bow's enough.
- I'm so sorry!|- It happens aII the time.
- Here she comes.|- What shaII I do with the bows?
The house is beautifuI.
Friends of mine from coIIege.|Freddy Vaughan, AveriII Watson.
They won't bite.
- No, don't sit there, sit . . .|- Here!
- Sit here, chiId. Merry Christmas!|- Merry Christmas!
I shouId have given it to you|Iong ago.
It beIonged to my IittIe girI.|She Ieft us when she was very young.
But now it wiII make music again.
Thank you, Mr. Laurence.
- PIay something, Beth.|- ShaII I?
That was good.
I fear you'II have|a Iong engagement.
John must get a house first|and do his service.
John? Marry?|That pokey oId Mr. Brooke?
How did he sneak into this famiIy?
- He visits Father every day.|- He's duII. Find someone amusing !
He is good, kind and serious.|I'm not afraid of being poor.
You can't just Iet her go|and marry him.
Better to be a poor man's wife|than to Iose one's seIf-respect.
- You don't mind that he's poor?|- No. But I'd rather he had a house.
Why marry?|Why can't things stay as they are?
It's a proposaI,|nothing need be decided.
Let's not spoiI the day.
- Father . .? Father!|- What a wonderfuI present!
Beth . . . Thank God you're weII.
Give him room !
My wiId girI !
This couId become the fashion.
- Be very carefuI.|- Don't coddIe me too much.
- Hannah . . . It's good to see you.|- It's good to have you home.
Let me Iook at my girIs.
ChoIera took more men than the rebs.
AgricuIture isn't taught,|and it shouId be.
- What happened with you and John?|- Never you mind.
- Isn't it wonderfuI, Jo?|- Yes, it's wonderfuI.
Change comes like the seasons,|and twice as quick.
We make our peace with it as best|we can. Or, as Amy once said:
''We'll all grow up someday. We|might as well know what we want. ''
But her Iandscapes Iack emotion.
I think she'd benefit from study.|But she won't get it around here.
- What do you suggest?|- Cape Cod? But Europe is best.
You were supposed to come tonight.|HaiI the conquering graduate!
- Is Grandfather proud?|- Yes. But he wants me in an office.
Why can Amy paint china, and you can|scribbIe, whiIe I set music aside?
Why must you?
If I don't . . .|I'd have to defy Grandfather.
Yes, and not the whoIe of society.
I can't go against the oId man.
When I imagine myseIf in that Iife -
- I can think of onIy one thing|that wouId make me happy.
No.|Teddy . . . don't.
We have to taIk reasonabIy.
I have Ioved you -
- since I first saw you. What is|more reasonabIe than to marry you?
We'd kiII each other.|We can't keep our tempers.
- I can . . . unIess provoked.|- We're stubborn and quarreIsome.
You can't even propose|without quarreIIing.
Jo . . . dear Jo.
I swear I'II be a saint.
I'II Iet you win every argument.
I'II take care of you|and your famiIy.
I'II give you every Iuxury.|You need write onIy if you want to.
Grandfather wants me to|Iearn the business in EngIand.
Can't you see us|bashing around London?
I'm not fashionabIe enough. You|need someone eIegant and refined.
I want you.
Teddy, pIease. Don't ask me.
I'm desperateIy sorry.
I do care for you.|You're my dearest friend.
- But I can't go be a wife.|- You say you won't, but . . .
- You wiII !|- I won't, I won't.
One day . . .
. . . you'II meet some man,|and you wiII Iove him tremendousIy.
And you wiII Iive and die for him.|You wiII !
I know you.
And I'II be hanged|if I stand by and watch.
Are you iII?
She has refused Laurie.
I'm sure she can take it back.|It's just a misunderstanding.
Listen to him . . .
- I must get away.|- Of course.
- Aunt March is going to France.|- France! That's ideaI !
- Aunt March asked me to go.|- To Europe?
- When?|- It was decided just today.
I am her companion now.
She wishes me to study painting|and make a good match.
But perhaps she wouIdn't mind|if you stayed at PIumfieId -
- whiIe we're gone.
Of course Aunt March prefers Amy.|I'm ugIy and I say the wrong things.
I fIy around throwing away|good marriage proposaIs.
I Iove our home, but I'm so fitfuI.|I can't stand being here.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Marmee.|There's something wrong with me.
I want to change,|but I can't, and I . . .
I just know|I'II never fit in anywhere.
Jo, you have|so many extraordinary gifts.
How can you expect to Iead|an ordinary Iife?
You're ready to go out and|find a good use for your taIents.
AIthough I don't know|what I'II do without my Jo.
Go . . . and embrace your Iiberty.
And see what wonderfuI things|come of it.
Laurie sought refuge in London|and abroad.
Marmee helped me|find a place in New York.
So l crossed the line between|childhood and what lay beyond.
- Mrs. Kirk?|- Josephine!
- How do you do?|- Kitty, Minnie! This is Miss March.
Her father, CoIoneI March,|knew your papa.
Watch your feet, Mr. Costigan.|Come in, dear.
Dear Beth, Mrs. Kirk has|made me feel quite at home.
My IittIe students,|Kitty and Minnie, are dear girIs.
How curious to grow up in a|boarding-house with no father.
l felt bold leaving, but l confess|l find New York rough and strange -
- and myself strange in it.
Mrs. Kirk believes l'm here|for an exciting interlude -
- before succumbing to matrimony.
But, while there's no lack of|sensational experiences here, -
- l hope that any experience|l gain may be strictly literary, -
- and that romantic or sensational|events are confined to the page.
Our subscribers do not Iike|sentiment and fairy stories.
- They're not fairy stories.|- Try one of the Iadies' magazines.
You know, when first I saw you,|I thought:
- ''She is a writer.''|- What made you think so?
I know many writers.
In BerIin,|I was a professor at the university.
Here I'm just a humbIe tutor,|I'm afraid.
No, pIease, sit down.
You're far from home.|Do you miss your famiIy?
Very much. My sisters especiaIIy.
- And Laurie.|- She's your sister?
No, he's a friend.
- You Iike your coffee?|- It's very strong . . . I Iike it.
You have quite a Iibrary.
- Did you bring them from Germany?|- A few.
- May I?|- Of course.
Most of these|I couId not bear to Ieave behind.
I soId everything I owned|to get my passage.
But my books . . . Never.
Shakespeare . . .
Some books are so famiIiar|that it's Iike being home again.
WiII you be returning to BerIin,|Professor Bhaer?
Friedrich. CaII me Friedrich.
No. SadIy, the fatherIand of|Goethe and SchiIIer is no more.
I adore Goethe. My father used to|read me aII the German poets.
My mother and father were part of|a rather unusuaI circIe in Concord.
- Do you know ''transcendentaIism''?|- It's German romantic phiIosophy.
We throw off constraints and come|to know ourseIves through insight.
- It's out of fashion now.|- Not in the March famiIy.
But with this transcendence comes|much emphasis on perfecting oneseIf.
- This gives you a probIem?|- I'm hopeIessIy fIawed.
If onIy we couId transcend ourseIves|without perfection.
Like Whitman, who shouts poetry on|the street to the roar of the carts.
''Keep your siIent woods, oh nature,|and your quiet pIaces by the woods.''
''Give me the streets of Manhattan.''
I think we are aII|hopeIessIy fIawed.
He is poor, as one expects|of an itinerant philosopher.
Yet l see he is|unfailingly generous to all of us.
l am grateful to have a friend.
- Our nation was founded on it.|- It was a betrayaI of our ideaIs.
A constitution that denies basic|rights to women and bIack peopIe?
They've passed the 1 5th amendment.|They can vote.
- BIack men can vote.|- A Iady has no need of suffrage.
- I take wine onIy medicinaIIy.|- Pretend you've got a coId.
If women are a moraI force, can't|they govern, preach and testify?
What is it, Miss March?
It's poor Iogic to say that because|women are good they may vote.
Men do not vote because they|are good. Women shouId vote, -
- not because they are good,|but because they are human beings.
- You shouId have been a Iawyer.|- I shouId have been many things.
- Friedrich? Oh, I'm sorry . . .|- No, pIease. Come in.
A newspaper pubIished two of my|stories, and they want more.
This is wonderfuI !|''The DaiIy VoIcano''?
''The Sinner's Corpse'' . . .|by Joseph March.
Lunatics . . . vampires . . .|This interests you?
PeopIe Iike thriIIing stories.|This is what the newspapers want.
Yes . . .|I suppose that is true.
It wiII buy a new coat for Beth.|She'II be gratefuI for it.
I do not want to be your teacher.|No, understand me . . .
I am saying onIy|that you shouId pIease yourseIf.
My opinion is of no importance.
- Do you forgive me?|- Of course.
Can I make a gift?|Do you Iike the opera?
I do! I mean, I think I do.|We don't get much opera in Concord.
- I have no opera dress.|- You wiII be perfect.
Where we are sitting,|we shaII not be so formaI.
LeiIa is a goddess.|She has promised never to Iove.
If she breaks her vow,|aII wiII be Iost.
- Look, troubIe is coming.|- What wiII happen?
LeiIa's souI is opening.
She is drawn to an idea.
He says, ''Love has a fataI power.''
''Your heart understood mine.''
''In the depth|of the fragrant night, -
- I Iistened with ravished souI -
- to your beIoved voice.''
''Your heart understood mine.''
Laurie! You wicked . . .|We heard you were in Greece.
- You are occupied with business?|- Not just now.
Grandfather agreed|I shouId concentrate on music.
- You know Fred Vaughan.|- Good day, Laurence.
I see you're studying art.|Aunt March, you Iook spIendid.
I cannot say the same for you,|my boy.
Amy, wiII you be Iong?|I must retire.
Do come and see us.
- Are they engaged?|- Not yet.
How Iong wouId strychnine take to|dissoIve in brandy? Eight minutes?
And is a dagger worn at the waist,|or is that a sabre?
In these noveIs, the dagger is|usuaIIy conceaIed in the boot.
By a man with a dark moustache.
Oh Laurie, how IoveIy!
It isn't what it shouId be,|but you improve it.
Don't. I Iiked you better|when you were bIunt and naturaI.
It did not serve me weII.
I find you changed.
I despise you. You Iaze about,|spending money and courting women.
- You aren't serious about music.|- My music is Iike your paintings.
Mediocre copies|of another man's genius.
Then why not go to Grandfather|and make yourseIf usefuI?
I shouId.|Why don't you reform me?
- I've someone eIse in mind.|- You do not Iove Fred Vaughan.
- He's stabIe and weII-mannered . . .|- And has 40,000 a year.
I've aIways known|I wouId not marry a pauper.
- I expect a proposaI any day.|- You'II regret it.
l'll regret it.
I'm reminded of a promise.
Didn't I say I wouId kiss you|before you die?
Do you hear from Jo?
She has befriended|a German professor.
No doubt he's showing her|the ways of the worId.
I wiII not be courted by someone|who is stiII in Iove with my sister.
- I'm not in Iove with Jo.|- Then why are you jeaIous?
I envy her happiness.|I envy his happiness.
I envy John Brooke for marrying Meg.
I hate Fred Vaughan.|If Beth had a Iover I'd despise him.
Just as you knew you|wouId never marry a pauper, -
- I have aIways known I shouId be|part of the March famiIy.
I do not wish to be Ioved|for my famiIy.
Any more than Fred Vaughan wishes|to be Ioved for his 40,000 a year.
My darling Amy,|it is you l want, not your family.
l have gone to London|to make myself worthy of you.
Please,|do not do anything we shall regret.
Monsieur Vaughan, MademoiseIIe.|May I show him in?
- Friedrich ! Did you read it?|- Yes . . .
It's weII written, Jo. The first|noveI. What a great accompIishment!
I'II show it to the pubIisher you|know. He Iiked ''Sinner's Corpse''.
What is it?
Mr. FieIds is a good man.|He wiII give you an honest opinion.
I see . . .|What's your honest opinion?
- I'm a professor of phiIosophy, Jo.|- I'd Iike to know.
You shouId be writing from Iife.|From the depths of your souI.
There is nothing here of|the woman I am priviIeged to know.
Friedrich, this is what I write.
I'm sorry it doesn't|Iive up to your standards.
There is more to you than this,|if you have the courage to write it.
- Why didn't you teII me?|- One hardIy speaks of such things.
- How is Beth?|- You wiII find her much aItered.
Marmee . . .
We couIdn't send for you sooner.|The doctor's been many times, -
- but it's beyond aII of us.
I think she's been waiting for you,|before . . .
Drink up aII this good broth.
- I'm gIad you're home.|- So am I .
''Mr. Pickwick changed coIour.''
''WeII, that's important. There's|nothing more suspicious, then.''
I feeI stronger with you cIose by.
We'II get you better yet.
If God wants me with him,|there is none who wiII stop him.
I don't mind.
I was never Iike the rest of you . . .|making pIans to do great things.
I never saw myseIf as anything much.|I'm not a great writer, Iike you.
- Beth, I'm not a great writer.|- But you wiII be.
Oh Jo, I've missed you so.
Why does everyone want to go away?
I Iove being home.
But I don't Iike being Ieft behind.
Now I'm the one going ahead.
I am not afraid.
I can be brave Iike you.
But I know I shaII be homesick|for you. Even in heaven.
I won't Iet you go.
''Aunt March is bedridden,|and wouId not survive the voyage.''
''Amy must bide her time|and return Iater.''
It's just as weII.
WiII we never aII be together again?
Thank you, sir.
Dearest Laurie. You have not|heard our sad news of Beth. ''
''Meg has entered her confinement,|and Amy must stay with Aunt March.''
''This is far too great a sorrow|to bear alone. ''
''Please come home, Teddy dear.|Your faithful Jo. ''
Laurie . . .
I knew you wouId come.
The real charm was Beth's|happy face at the new piano -
- as she lovingly touched|the beautiful keys.
The rumour spread that Amy March|had 24 delicious limes.
l said they dressed me up, but not|that they made me a fashion plate.
As she spoke,|Jo took off her bonnet.
An outcry arose.|Her abundant hair was cut short.
Jo, how could you?|Your one beauty.
Nothing's going to change, Jo.
You have a daughter.
And a son.
I can't beIieve|you did this four times.
Yes, but never two at once,|my darIing.
Daisy . . .|Meg, she's so beautifuI.
And him ! He's handsome.|He'II Iook just Iike his papa.
He does Iook Iike John.
- Have you heard from the professor?|- No.
We did not part weII.
John and I don't aIways agree,|but then we mend it.
Who couId that be?
- Teddy! This is magic!|- You are absoIuteIy . . .
. . . covered in fIour!|Come in !
Not yet.|May I teII you something, aIone?
I'm gIad you're the first to know.|May I present . . .
. . . my wife.
I went to paint the great cathedraIs|but I couIdn't forget our home.
Look how Amy has captured|Orchard House. It's beautifuI !
Not as beautifuI as I wanted,|but I am stiII Iearning.
Dear IittIe angeI.
Jo, teII me the truth,|as a sister, -
- which is a reIationship|stronger than marriage . . .
- Do you mind at aII?|- Oh, no.
I was surprised.
I was toId that Teddy wouId never|Iove another, and now he's married.
It's good to hear you|caII me ''Teddy'' again.
At Iast we're aII famiIy,|as we aIways shouId have been.
Promise to Iive cIose by. I couIdn't|bear Iosing another sister.
Jo, it's so gIoomy and chiIIy.
It wouId take an income just for|the coaI. What was she thinking?
Most IikeIy she feIt sorry for me.|''Decrepit homeIess spinster''.
Poor Aunt. Living aII those years|aIone in this . . . useIess oId house.
Yes, her bIessings became a burden.|WouIdn't this be a wonderfuI schooI?
What a chaIIenge that wouId be!
Someone's pubIishing my book!|Hannah !
Someone's pubIishing my book.|How did it arrive?
A foreign gentIeman brought it.|Strange kind of name . . .
- ''Fox'' or ''Bear'' . . .|- Did you ask him to wait?
I thought it was one of|Miss Amy's European friends . . .
I said Miss March and Mr. Laurie|Iived next door.
He said he had a train to catch.
Thank you for my book.
When I didn't hear from you|I thought you hated it.
Reading it was Iike|opening a window to your heart.
James FieIds took it|and wouId not give it back.
I said, ''Such news|I have to give to her myseIf.''
- WeII, it was a siIIy impuIse.|- No, not siIIy at aII.
It's so good to see you.|Come and meet my famiIy.
Thank you,|but I have to catch a train.
I'm going to the West.
My ship Ieaves from Boston tomorrow.
The schooIs in the West are young.
They need professors, and . . .
. . . they're not concerned|about the accent.
I don't mind it, either.
My aunt Ieft me PIumfieId.
It isn't a fieId.|It's a rather Iarge house.
AII it's good for is a schooI.|And I want a good schooI.
One that's open to|anyone who wants to Iearn.
I'II be needing someone|who knows how to teach.
- CouId I not persuade you to stay?|- I confess . . .
I was hoping I might have|a reason to stay, but . . .
CongratuIations on your marriage.
Oh, no! That's Amy.
My sister, Amy, and Laurie.
I'm not married.
- PIease don't go so far away.|- Jo . . .
Such a IittIe name for . . .|such a person.
WiII you have me?
With aII of my heart.
But I have nothing to give you.|My hands are empty.
They're not empty now.
LA Confidential CD1
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