Isle of the Dead

Mrs. St. Aubyn, were you ill before?
- Before?
- Before I came to work for you?

Yes, I was ill for a long time before.
But since I came, you've been worse?
Yes, that was to be expected.
Why do you ask, Thea?
You're not thinking that you're at fault?
It isn't that, is it?

I thought I had given you
something better to hold on to...

than those silly stories of evil spirits
and malignant forces...

that you heard in your home village.
But you do grow worse, weaker.
But that's not your fault, child.
It couldn't be.

It's very simple.
My illness is incurable.
Naturally, it grows worse as time goes on.

Could it be my spirit?
Something over which
I myself have no force or will?

You are good, Thea, kind and generous.
How can anything bad
come from goodness?

I try to be good. I try to be kind.
- But how can I know what my spirit...
- Your spirit is yourself, Thea.

You needn't worry about Vorvolakas.
When you left this room
a few moments ago...

there was an open,
giving look on your face.

Where were you going?
To that young man?
And why didn't you go to him?
You met the General
and he talked to you of this nonsense.

That's it, isn't it?
go to the young man...
and wear the same happy look
you had before.