The Beguiled

1

Take warning by me

Don't go for a soldier

Don't join no army

For the dove she will leave you

The raven will come

And death will come marching

At the beat of the drum

Come all you pretty fair maids

Come walk in the sun

And don't let your young man

Ever carry a gun

Oh, my God!

My daddy died that way.

Crawled off in the bushes

and bled to death.

Maybe you were the cause.

Are you dying, Mr. Yank?

Help me.

What's your name, girl?

Amelia.

But everybody calls me Amy.

And I'm Corporal John McBurney.

But everybody calls me McB.

How old are you, Amy?

Twelve.

- Thirteen in September.

- Shh.

Old enough for kisses.

Don't give up now, Mr. Yank.

I mean, Mr. McB.

Just over there.

Miss Martha, that smoke's

sure getting awful close.

You figure them Yanks is

gonna burn this place down?

Hallie, don't talk that way. It's hard

enough to get the girls to study as it is.

I can't emphasize enough

that French is a smiley language.

Abigail.

You're not paying attention.

I'm sorry, Miss Edwina,

but the war is sounding so close.

Doris says if the Yankees win,

they'll rape every one of us.

Miss Martha!

Miss Martha!

Help!

Miss Martha! Miss Martha!

Help! He's dying.

How did he get here?

By the grace of God, ma'am.

The grace of God in the

form of this here child.

What were you doing off

the school grounds?

Just picking some mushrooms. And

I didn't notice how far I was...

You know the punishment

for leaving the grounds.

Get him into the house.

Come and help me.

Lift.

Miss Martha, I couldn't

leave him there to die.

Well, you wouldn't have

had to worry about it.

It would just have been

one less enemy soldier.

Corporal John McBurney,

66th New York.

I surrender to the

prettiest Confederates...

A real bluebelly.

There's only one way to

tell if he's a Yank.

How's that?

Take off his pants.

Yanks have tails.

Doris, stop that nonsense.

Amy, run on ahead and

open up the door.

And then come back and tie

the blue rag on the gate.

Go on!

You hear that?

The blue rag's a signal

for our local patrollers.

We're gonna feel awfully proud

turning one over to them.

- Is he dead?

- Lizzie, why didn't you sound the alarm?

- I'm sorry, Miss Martha.

- You must have seen him crossing the fields.

I was reading and I didn't see...

The lookout is not a reading room.

You get back up on

that widow's walk

and if you see any of our soldiers

coming, you let me know at once.

- Yes, ma'am.

- Let's put him down on the steps.

Careful. There.

Doris, Abigail, go get some sheets and

make up the divan in the music room.

I'll go put the water on to boil.

Amy, will you put the blue rag

on the gate as you were told?

Couldn't we wait a bit for that?

His pulse is weak and

he's lost a lot of blood.

Gallons and gallons, Miss Martha.

They'd take him away, even

though he's half dead.

They're not likely

to be by again today

and in any case they'd wait

until we dressed his wounds.

Will you do as I asked?

If this war goes on much longer,

I'll forget I ever was a woman.

Water's on the boil.

Y'all wasting your time.

I say we fix his leg, turn

him over to the patrol.

He'll die in prison just the same.

Mr. Yankee, there was enough iron

in your leg to shoe a horse.

I'm afraid it's some time since

the corporal had a bath.

I noticed. You ladies leave.

I'll get some clean water

and wash him down.

I'll fetch one of my brother's

nightshirts. Come, Edwina.

I thought so.

Is he going to die?

Someday. But for now

he is quite all right.

I don't want anyone poking in here

or lurking about in the halls.

There is lots of

mending to be done.

Into the parlor, all of you.

Pay no attention to them, Amy.

Did the ant kill the caterpillar?

No, they joined together and

dragged him underground.

Probably to eat him.

I don't see what this has to do

with that Yank you brought here.

I do.

The Yank's an intruder,

just like the caterpillar.

And you should never

have brought him here.

I agree. He's probably a spy.

I doubt that, Janie.

Miss Edwina, aren't you

afraid of that bluebelly?

No.

It's bad manners to

call him a bluebelly.

He has a name.

Corporal John McBurney.

Call him by it.

I call him Mr. McB.

And I think he's ever so handsome.

I got him cleaned

good to the waist.

I'll lift him

and you put the nightshirt on him.

Come on, give me the other arm.

- Yes, Miss Martha.

- Well, help me.

Hold the sleeve and hold it up.

Yes, Miss Martha.

Now, pull off his pants.

Go ahead, Miss Martha. He's not made

no different than your brother.

I have asked you never

to speak of my brother.

Sorry, Miss Martha,

I didn't mean nothing.

The nightshirt recalled

Master Miles to me.

Surprising it didn't you, too.

Surprising you brought this

Yank into your house, too.

Him being a man and all.

I didn't want to.

Miss Martha, soldiers on the

road! They're on their way.

- All right, Lizzie.

- Should I go back up?

No, I should have had

you relieved before.

Janie, I believe it's your watch.

May we go greet them?

No, you may not. I don't

want them to see you, girl.

Come along.

- Captain.

- Ma'am.

What's the news?

We won. Grant's retreating.

- Oh, thank God.

- Go, get him! That way!

- Get back here, Yank!

- No!

- Shoot him!

- Hold your fire!

Get him and throw him in the wagon.

He just wanted to be shot.

Prefers a quick death to a

slow death in Fayette Prison.

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