Marie Heurtin

---

This story is inspired by real events

in France in the late 19th century.

Welcome, my lovely.

You're very pretty.

- What?

- Come and see.

Look.

You watch her.

Who is it?

How did she get up there?

She climbs trees

when we're not looking.

- How do you get her down?

- We wait till she comes down.

Sister Marguerite,

how are you feeling today?

Very well.

Then climb up there

and bring that young girl down.

Bring her down!

We educate young deaf girls,

not blind and deaf.

We couldn't look

after her properly.

What can I do?

Only the asylum will have her.

I'm sorry.

May 10.

Today I met a soul.

A tiny little soul, quite fragile.

An imprisoned soul

that I saw shine brightly

through her prison bars.

I had thought

she was a savage,

a little animal.

But she was waiting

for me in that tree.

The girl is locked in a world

of darkness and silence.

How can we talk to her?

Listen to her?

What is it like to live in

total darkness and silence?

Tighter!

That's good.

Education wasn't my choice

and I do like manual work,

but I met this young girl

and can't stop thinking about her.

- You have never taught deaf girls.

- I speak their language.

Getting them to break the

silence is another matter.

- And she's blind.

- Let me try.

I had a revelation.

A revelation?

No, not a revelation.

I mean...

Just an idea.

A simple idea.

Unless I'm wrong,

my mission is to look after her.

To give her speech so

she may enter the world.

No.

But...

I listened. You asked a question.

The answer is no.

Thank you, Mother.

But she can't stay locked

in her prison!

Someone must teach her to talk.

- How?

- Sign language.

She's blind!

I'll make signs in her hand.

It's from birth.

Her intelligence has shriveled.

If it's intact, she must suffer

from being imprisoned.

If there's even a tiny chance...

It's quite a task.

With your health...

My lungs will be the death of me.

Till then...

It's a miracle you're alive.

No, not a miracle...

The slightest sustained

effort could be fatal.

I could die shut

away in a bedroom.

I might as well stop living.

Am I the Mother Superior

of this institution?

Yes, Mother.

- So must you obey me?

- Of course.

If I say no, must you accept it

without argument?

May 27.

I'm off to fetch little Marie.

I'm almost as excited

as the day I took my vows.

Anyone there?

It's me.

But...

Who are you?

I've come...

to help you.

Does she have no shoes?

We never managed to put them on.

Nor dress her.

Wait!

I almost forgot.

This knife is her favorite object.

She prefers that to dolls.

You'll have to leave her now.

I know.

Go on.

Go! Go!

You.

You.

Me.

Both of us.

Together.

Cow.

Cow.

Cow.

There, look.

That's a cow.

Look.

Look at her hair!

You go there.

There.

That's for you.

It's your bed. Where you sleep.

Here. OK?

I'll be back.

You stay here.

I'll be back.

I'll fetch her sheets.

She's a new girl.

Be nice to her.

You look after her.

I'll be back.

Bed!

Stop messing around!

I trusted you.

You're all very naughty.

I'll tell Mother Superior.

It'll all end in tears.

I'm disappointed.

It's wrong!

Hush. It's me.

It's me. There.

When this discourse had lasted

for the space of two miles...

Brother Leo questioned him

saying:
"Father, I pray thee,

"teach me where in is perfect joy. "

Mother!

Carry on.

And Saint Francis replied:

"If, when we shall arrive... "

Leave me.

"... drenched with rain

and trembling with cold,

"exhausted by hunger,

"and if, when we knock

at the convent gate,

"the porter should come angrily,

"and ask us who we are

"and we tell him...

"... and he answer:

"That is not the truth,

"ye are two imposters who

take away the alms of the poor.

"Begone!"

"Then if we accept with patience

"and without murmuring

"so much injustice... "

Hot.

Hot.

"... believing with humility

"and charity... "

"O, Brother Leo,

"write that this indeed

is perfect joy. "

July 26.

Each has her cross to bear.

Right now my life

with Marie is an ordeal.

What path should I take?

September 20.

I've had Marie for four months.

Her language isn't advancing.

She behaves like a wild animal.

It's me.

Wait, wait...

Wait, look.

Knife.

That's your knife.

It's your knife.

Look.

Your knife!

October 27.

Still no progress.

Marie has gone downhill

since she's been here.

It's only natural.

I took away her parents,

her home,

the little she knew.

I dragged her

out of her world.

Pane.

Window.

Stop criticizing me.

You're annoying.

Wait...

I lived in silence

until I was 4.

My parents didn't

know sign language,

but they taught me the rest.

What rest?

Everything.

Politeness, behavior,

table manners...

She must learn

to live with others.

She isn't alone.

You're right.

I'm educating her badly.

Maybe you were wrong

but you can do better.

I've no courage left.

All this work for nothing.

Till now, you...

You taught me sign language.

You know.

All I know is gardening.

Since you know best, carry on.

You've taken one step.

You can take more.

She doesn't understand a thing.

Today, November 15, 8:30,

I'm about to do Marie's hair.

Drop! Drop!

Drop! Drop! Drop!

Drop it.

Yes...

There, you see?

There?

Yes.

That's good.

Oh, dash!

Marie's here already.

Wait.

Be patient.

We must go to class.

No.

Give them your place.

Oh! Go on, then.

It's all yours!

That's it.

She has understood.

Well done!

Well done!

The words of our

Lord Jesus Christ

tell us that we must

make our way

while we strive

amid the cares of this world.

We make our way,

unpossessed as yet

of any abiding city.

Still on the journey,

not yet come home.

Still hoping, not yet enjoying.

Let us make our way,

not by fits and starts,

so that some day

we may arrive.

Martha and Mary were sisters

not in the flesh only

but also in godliness.

Together they clave

unto the Lord...

That's your knife.

And that's the sign knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Wait.

Give it to me.

Go on.

Knife.

Knife.

Knife. Knife.

Knife.

It's here, look.

Go on. Knife.

Go on.

Go on, then!

Knife. Here, feel.

It's your knife.

You know it! Go on.

Knife.

Yes, yes! Go on!

Yes.

No, no sleeping.

No sleeping. Come on!

Come on now.

Knife.

No sleeping, I said.

Wake up!

Come on, knife!

Knife!

No, do knife for me!

Knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Yes...

Yes!

Yes!

Knife!

That's it! Knife!

Mother!

Mother!

Mother, you must come.

- Come where?

- Come and see Marie.

She's been here eight months, no?

Yes, and...

- I find you admirable.

- Oh?

With so few results...

I have results.

Marie has made incredible progress.

You must come and see.

Look.

That's it!

What is?

There!

She's signing the word knife.

Yes.

She's asking...

fork.

She's asking me to sign fork.

That's the sign for fork.

Yes.

Yes.

Bread.

Bread.

That's it. That's it.

Did you see?

It works.

It works.

It works!

Carrot.

Carrot.

There...

Carrot.

Apple.

Grape.

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