- Morning, Grayson. - Morning, sir.
We really must get some bigger cups.
If you'll just allow me, sir.
- What's that, Grayson? - Sir?
This postcard.
_
Where did this come from, Grayson? There's no postmark.
_
Grayson!
Who brought this postcard into my house?
The postman, sir.
That'll be all.
Is it bad news, sir?
Why aren't the presses rolling? Are we late?
We can't be late, Miss. Your father would have us all sacked.
Don't worry, Miss Fortescue. I typeset every letter myself.
Worried? I'm not worried.
It's just my first credit, that's all.
Nothing remotely important.
Here, Miss.
_
Morning, Passepartout.
Or "Bonjour, ma cherie" I think it was?
Come.
Edith... Lovely, pretty Edith.
Passepartout.
How I envy him.
Who?
The man out there who is going to meet you,
fall in love with you, marry you, have children with you.
But... I've already met him.
It's you, Passepartout.
You deserve much more than me.
Find a good man, a man who wants to settle down.
It's for the best, cherie, I promise you.
We're here to work.
Morning, Fogg.
Late this morning, Foggy?
Not like you.
Everything all right?
Everything's fine.
Why wouldn't it be fine?
I like this piece, Fortescue.
With the opening of the railway between Rothal and Allahabad,
this fellow Penrose claims it's now possible to circumnavigate the globe
in a mere 80 days.
Absolute rot, of course.
It's not rot, actually.
What I mean to say is, if a man was well-organised,
and of a resilient and indefatigable nature,
took advantage of recent technological advances...
You and your technological advances.
I'm serious, Fortescue.
Only last night I was reading about a balloon contraption
a chap in Paris has invented, a Mr Lome.
Imagine going up in a balloon invented by a Frenchman.
Sorry. _
Excuse my hands, monsieur.
_
I shall have the hake in herb butter. Bellamy?
Pork chop.
Green beans.
Mr Fogg will have his usual brown Windsor soup
and then the boiled beef.
Tres bien, monsieur.
If you recall, I once planned such an excursion myself.
Not in 80 days, obviously, but... I could have done it.
Yes, I remember it well. You made it as far as Victoria Station.
Dover, actually.
Some are born to adventure,
and others, frankly, are not.
Do you remember that time he cried when
Matron told him not to wear a vest in August?
- Now that's enough, Bellars. - The brown Windsor.
Madam! Madam, this is members only! No women allowed!
Really? Watch me.
- Good Lord! - Madam! Madam, please!
- There you are. - Abigail! What on earth...
Can you tell me what is wrong with this otherwise carefully researched
- and expertly conveyed article? - Abigail, will you please calm down?
I'll enlighten you, shall I, Father?
It appears to have been written by a Mr Charles Penrose.
Well, I have my readers to consider.
It's 1872!
Would your readership really suffer a mass coronary
if they discovered a woman had written this?
Abigail, this is neither the time nor the place.
I'm very sorry, madam.
I must insist that you leave. You're frightening the members.
My office. Two o'clock.
We'll discuss the matter then. Will you please show the lady out?
- Terribly sorry about that. - No, no, no, no, not at all.
- Seems to have grown into a very fine young lady. - Yes, I think so.
If you want my advice, Madame...
- Which I do not... - you're best out of it.
This is a place where souls come to die.
_
www.subtitulamos.tv
One roly-poly pudding,
one Eton mess, and one spotted dick.
She may be a woman, Fortescue,
but your daughter's written a fascinating piece.
Everything would have to run in a chap's favour, of course:
weather, war, rail, sail. But it's possible.
It's more than possible. Someone will achieve this.
Well, it won't be you.
- Leave the man alone. - One spotted dick.
Let's see if the new chef has mastered the sultana ratio.
Roly-poly.
And... the Eton mess.
_
It will, actually.
Sorry, Foggy? What will what?
I'm going to circumnavigate the globe in 80 days.
Or less.
My dear fellow.
Has something happened, Fogg?
Nothing's happened.
Not for years.
I'll start today.
One o'clock?
With any luck I'll make the overnight sailing from Dover to Calais.
By Jove, I think he's serious!
Never more so, Bellamy.
Care to put your money where your mouth is?
Absolutely not. Stop this foolishness, both of you.
- Ten thousand pounds. - What?
Ten thousand pounds.
What do you say, Fogg?
Or are you just like that Froggy balloon - full of hot air?
Twenty thousand.
You have yourself a wager, sir.
I'll see you all back here, no later than one o'clock
on...
Christmas Eve.
_
- Please, Edith. - Just leave me alone!
Please, don't cry.
You.
Leave her alone.
That was my intention.
But the lady is crying, and I will not stand...
Stop it! Kenny, stop!
Edith. After you have finished your shift we will go to the park
and I will explain why...
I told you to leave that girl alone!
What is going on here?!
Sir, I'd never...
You French...!
Are we finished?
He's fainted! Good God.
Merde.
Call the police!
Au revoir, mes amis.
- You stay where you are! - Phileas!
Phileas, you can't go on your own.
Well, I won't be on my own. Grayson will be with me.
Grayson? He hasn't left the house in 20 years!
- Bellboy! - Yes, sir?
- Little errand for you. - Thank you.
Phileas!
Phileas, please!
Come back.
Fogg!
May the best man win.
Thank you.
See you in the morning!
- Allow me, Monsieur. - Can I help you?
I have been sent by the agency, Monsieur. Your new valet.
Call the police!
Phileas! You can't go on your own.
Bellboy! Yes, sir?
Get round to Fritton's Agency quick-smart, have them send
- their finest man to this address. - Of course.
Phileas, please! Come back!
Mr Roberts has asked for you, urgently. I'll take care of this.
_
You're the best on their books?
Stay back, please!
- Nobody better. - Do you have a name?
Passepartout, Monsieur, at your service.
Pass-par-too. Passepartout.
Right.
Well, come inside.
May I...?
I should warn you, I am going around the world in 80 days.
Splendid.
Splendid?
That doesn't worry you?
Why would it, Monsieur?
Languages?
French, evidemment.
Italian and German.
Spanish, a smattering of Cantonese,
Russian, and...
I can say, "Where is the fire escape?" in Swahili.
Have we met?
I don't think so.
Well, don't just stand there, man, go and pack my bags!
Evening wear, lounge wear. Grayson will show you what I need.
Go on!
_
He is the most timid, unprepared man in Christendom.
I'll require expenses, of course.
And I'll telegram you whenever I can.
What on earth are you talking about?
My contract for my new regular column.
Around The World With Abigail Fix.
If you seriously think I'm going to let my only child
follow this charade even as far as the Strand...
I'm not even reading it.
I wonder if The Times would be interested in this story?
Dammit, Abigail!
You know even less of the world than Fogg.
And my God, that is saying something.
Why your mother's maiden name?
Because I'm sick of being the famous Mr Fortescue's daughter.
I'm going to be a proper writer.
- You can be a proper writer here. - No, I can't.
You proved that today.
Expenses only.
And my name on the column. Abigail Fix, not A Fix.
Teutonic Regular, 10 point minimum and...
You really are the most impossible creature.
Please...
Please be careful.
What time does Fogg sail?
Six o'clock. If he gets that far.
He'd better had, or he'll have me to deal with.
Abigail?
There's no shame in changing your mind.
This is what I was born to do!
Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, sir?
No.
You must stay here and make sure the household runs as clockwork.
See you on Christmas Eve, Grayson.
I'll be waiting right here, sir.
A cab won't call itself.
Next stop Paris.
Paris?
- Capital of France. - I know it's...
- I didn't know we were going to Paris. - Yes.
We have to change trains for Turin.
- Just to change trains? - Yes.
Something the matter? We have a boat to catch!
Everything is perfect, Monsieur.
Then let the adventure begin.
I think I'm dying.
Hello.
Miss Fortescue.
Miss Fix, actually. When I'm working.
Monsieur is just getting his sea legs.
What on earth are you doing here?
I'm here to cover your progress for The Daily Telegraph.
What? No. No.
No, no, no. No.
The last thing I want is some journalist coming with me.
Think of the publicity.
That's exactly what I am thinking about. No.
Absolutely not. That's out of the question.
Such a shame, Mademoiselle.
I think we would have enjoyed each other's company.
Aren't you the waiter from the Reform Club?
As the gentleman said. Have a safe trip back.
No!!
Your hat, Monsieur...
It has gone home.
"Paris: The Turbulent City."
Do you mind?
You can't learn about a city from reading a book.
You're very forward for a servant, or a waiter,
or whatever you are tonight.
I'm just a man, Mademoiselle.
Where's Mr Fogg?
Still revisiting his brown Windsor soup and boiled beef.
Do you think he's going to make it around the world in 80 days?
I hope and believe he'll prove you wrong.
Why do you think he doesn't want a journalist with him?
Because deep down he knows he will fail...
And he doesn't want you telling the world when he does.
- Have you got anything to drink? - No!
Then I will bid you goodnight, Mademoiselle.
_
The police are closing all the railway stations?
- You can't be serious! - Until all this is over.
When will that be?
This is France, Monsieur. It could be decades.
_
You stay here, I'll get a cab.
How long will you be?
Don't worry, they don't behead rich people any more.
I don't think!
_
Sorry.
_
You rude man!
_
Miss Fix. Mr Fogg is not going to like it.
Then he will have to lump it.
Who was that man who knocked me over?
Nobody.
You'd better come with us.
Le Grand Hotel.
_
This way, Monsieur!
_
- Is it always like this in France? - Always!
Miss Fix! I thought I made my position perfectly clear.
You did, and I've decided to ignore you.
What is this all about?
The government crossed the Paris Commune.
Now the people protest against our glorious president,
Marie Joseph Louis Adolphe Thiers.
Not a popular chap, I take it?
He once passed a law that said the poorest could no longer vote.
Well, I'm sure he had his reasons.
_
Ants in your pants?
I will meet you in the foyer of Le Grand Hotel in an hour, Monsieur.
- Where are you going? - This is going to take some time.
I'll organise the hire of a carriage to pick up the train in Italy.
_
There will only be room for two people in the carriage.
You're my valet! You can't...
I can't fall at the first hurdle, that'd be ridiculous.
Never be able to show my face in the Reform Club again.
Waiter, valet... what do you know about our Mr Passepartout?
- I mean, really know? - I'm not talking to you, Miss Fix,
as you are currently on the ferry sailing back to Dover.
Why aren't we moving?
Where are you going?
If I'm going around the world, I want to know who I'm going around it with.
You're not going around the world,
you are going back to London! Miss Fix...!
What is the English word for fatigante?
"Tiresome."
What are you doing?
This is where...
my father's life ended.
Where he was killed.
Who killed him?
The government of France.
Why?
Because he was strong and brave...
and kind.
Because he believed in a better world.
You must be very proud of him.
I didn't want a dead hero, Miss Fix.
I wanted a father.
Yes.
Yes, we are, Madame. Very proud of him.
Gerard?
_
Go, go! For goodness' sake, go!
None of this has anything to do with me!
_
No!
No! No! No!
I am English! I am English!
_
That was you at the station, wasn't it?!
You knocked me over and left me there.
_
- _ - Good God, no!
I'm working, if you must know. A journalist.
_
A manservant.
Manservant?
A spectacularly bad one, as it turns out.
_
Excuse me, I can understand what you're saying
and "the woman" will be the judge of where she goes, not you.
You say you're a journalist, Mademoiselle Fix.
I don't say I'm a journalist, I am a journalist.
Then how about I give you the story of a lifetime?
Somebody help me!
Please! I have a first-class ticket!
Please, please, please! Leave that!
Leave that, please!
That belongs to me! It is not yours!
Please, don't!
Please, please!
Why don't you go and find Fogg? This is not your business.
Everything is my business.
So I'm starting to see.
You said "today of all days".
What did you mean?
A year ago, President Thiers ordered the army to destroy the commune.
They turned their cannons on us,
here in the heart of Paris.
Are we going on a protest march?
My readers would absolutely love that.
A protest, Mademoiselle,
that much is certainly true.
I am the English man!
_
Miss Fix's bag!
_
You must not judge us unkindly, Monsieur.
People with empty bellies have been known to forget their manners.
Yes, of course.
But you appear to be a man who is a stranger to poverty.
Yes.
Certainly. Of course.
I'm sure the Lord won't mind some English pounds.
Thank you.
Go in peace.
Your journey has the Lord's approval.
Really?
Right.
You're an idiot, Fogg.
You're an idiot. You were never made for this.
_
Thank you. Merci.
I'm sorry, Bernard.
I don't know what I was thinking of. I'll bring her home at once.
_
- Passepartout? - My insane brother and his suicidal friends
- are going to assassinate - the President of France.
How's that for a headline, Miss Fix?
_
Do you know what my father said to Passepartout,
the moment before the firing squad took him away from us?
No, I don't.
He said, "Look after your brother."
And do you know what my brother said to my father?
I don't know and I don't care.
Why are you even contemplating this?
- I suggest that you put down your... - "I promise, Papa."
That's what I said to him.
He asked one thing of you
- and you betrayed him. - I was young.
I'd seen my own father killed. I just wanted to...
get away from this city, these politics.
I just wanted to forget.
- Forget who murdered your own father? - Yes!
- I needed to be away from here. - You had a brother!
What do you want me to say, Gerard?
That I was a bad brother?
I freely admit it, I am the worst brother a man could ever have.
I am sorry...
as any man can be.
_
Excusez-moi.
Excusez-moi?
Excusez-moi. Have you seen this woman?
Anglaise.
Stubborn.
Talks a lot.
What will happen to us?
If he kills the President,
every gendarme in Paris will be inside this building in less than a minute.
Will they arrest us?
They will kill us.
Someone will rescue us.
- Mr Fogg! - Is a fool who cannot run his own bath.
Miss Fix, Miss Fix, Miss Fix, Miss Fix.
I wouldn't be surprised if he's already on his way back to England.
- My father is a powerful man... - And is currently asleep
in the library of the Reform Club.
I wish you had left when I told you to.
I'm sorry, Miss Fix. Nobody is going to rescue us.
Have you seen this woman? Excusez-moi?
Anyone? Sorry. Someone... Someone must have seen her.
She has big hair. Blue eyes. I think.
Where might I find a policeman? Gendarme? Gendarme?
_
- Oui! Yes, thanks! Merci - _
If you get out of this and I don't,
tell my father I love him very much
and that he's not to feel guilty.
I was doing what I've always wanted to do.
Is there anybody you want me to speak to?
There must be someone.
Not much to show for a life, brother.
No wife.
No children. No friends.
No beliefs.
No country.
Nobody cares if you live or die.
I would.
Care if you lived or died.
A little bit.
_
He always is punctual, monsieur le President.
_
Gerard. Listen to me. Thiers didn't kill Father.
He betrayed the movement. Same thing.
_
How can more killing help France?
It helps me.
_
Thank you. Excusez-moi. Coming through.
Thank you. Excusez-moi. Excusez-moi.
I am not going anywhere until I have seen the Chief of Police himself.
He is inside with the President of France.
She is the daughter of the editor of the Daily Telegraph.
_
Mr President! My name is Phileas Fogg.
I've travelled from England, and I am looking for a woman.
Aren't we all, Monsieur?
Do not interrupt the President of France.
Mr Fogg!
Miss Fix? I've been looking everywhere for you!
_
I'm going to London!
Fogg!
_
Go, Passepartout!
Come on!
- Come with us! - No!
Come with us!
_
Liberte!
Passepartout! Quick!
Now!
_
Fogg! Fogg!
I thought you were dead!
Dead?! I've never felt so alive in my life.
You came for us! I knew you would.
We must leave Paris. Now.
Wait, hold on!
What is it?
Do you know this place?
- Yes. - Take me there!
- Why? - Just... trust me.
- In there? - Do you want to live or die, Monsieur?
Well...
- Live, I suppose. But... - Get in!
Yes, all right.
_
Hurry!
_
This way!
_
I think we've lost them.
We have to keep going.
I've got a bit of a stitch.
Just let me catch my breath for a few minutes and then...
Will you people stop firing at me?!
_
I am hurrying!
_
This way.
_
Up there.
In here!
_
Bolt the door!
It's beautiful.
I am not going up in that!
Nobody is going up in that.
Monsieur Lome? My name is Phileas Fogg.
I need to purchase this magnificent flying machine
and I need you to fly it for me.
It's not for sale.
Name your price, Monsieur.
There's no price.
What's the name of the balloon, Monsieur?
Marie Rose.
Marie Rose yes. Was my wife.
We had this dream to fly together...
out over the city, over the fields and rivers...
Like birds. Like angels.
She died before I...
before I could complete it.
_
- Hurry, Mr Fogg! - Monsieur.
You built this machine for your wife,
for Marie Rose. I understand that.
But what honour does it do her gathering dust here?
It should fly.
Like a bird.
Like an angel.
No man in the world knows more
about lost opportunity than me, Monsieur Lome.
_
If we're going to go, we need to go now!
_
You'll come with us?
No, Monsieur. You go.
_
Make my wife proud.
_
Why can't we get a train like normal people?
Do you have any idea how this thing works?
Basic physics, I imagine.
What a story!
Where are we going?
Italy, of course.
Not a second to lose.
I've been thinking, Miss Fix.
Perhaps this adventure should have a chronicler,
if you're still interested.
Thank you, Mr Fogg. I'd be honoured.
Only a sip each, I'm afraid.
"To my darling fellow traveller. Sincerely yours..."
Whoever gave you this saved your life, Monsieur.
Yes, I think you might be right, Passepartout.
Thank you.
Around the world, my friends.
In 80 days.
www.subtitulamos.tv