Marie Heurtin Page #2

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Yes, like that.

Same for the other.

Leaf.

June 15 I'm witnessing

a wonderful show,

an explosion of language.

It was so hard

to learn the first word

but the following words

are patently simple.

Donkey.

Marie wants to

name everything.

Old...

Next we'll be seeing adjectives,

sentences,

grammar, abstract words.

Young.

I hope to live long enough

to see all that.

Are they coming?

Not yet.

When?

Soon.

It's a long time.

Patience.

They're coming.

Can they see me?

Not yet.

They can see you.

What are you waiting for?

Help me down.

Help me down.

Go to them.

What are you waiting for?

She's your daughter.

She says she's learning

the alphabet

and also...

the spelling of words.

How do we say hello?

My little girl...

Mommy?

How do we say Mommy?

- Like this?

- Yes.

She says she is happy.

And... she loves you.

Can nothing be done?

Rest, mainly.

And the mountain air.

We won't tell Marie

you're leaving.

It would hurt her too much.

The men with him were

dumbfounded half-wits,

hearing the voice

but seeing nobody.

Saul got up and,

although his eyes were opened,

he could see nothing.

He was led to Damascus...

Please eat.

No.

In Damascus, there was

a disciple named Ananius...

It's me, Raphalle.

You must eat.

No, sister. The journey

would worsen your condition

- and you might...

- I'll die in the end.

As will we all.

But I'll probably go

long before you.

I want to finish my

task before I go.

Just find me a remedy

to get me through the trip.

I am so happy.

I will see Marie again.

She is my joy,

the daughter of my soul,

the light of my life.

It's me.

What's wrong?

Sister Elisabeth has died.

- When?

- Just now.

She was working

in the garden.

She said she felt hot,

and then died.

Sister Elisabeth is broken?

No. Her body is broken.

She is dead.

You and I are the opposite.

We are alive.

I'm going to die too.

When?

Soon.

I forbid you to die.

I can't decide that.

Neither can you.

- Who decides?

- God.

Who is God? Where is He?

I can't touch Him.

He is everywhere.

Here, here, here...

Even inside you.

April 20.

Marie gave me

so many things.

She introduced me to a

world I knew nothing about.

A world you can touch,

where everything that is alive

pulsates under your fingers.

They are beautiful.

There are lots of them.

Are you all right?

Yes.

Would you like a drink?

Yes.

Careful, it's hot.

You want a drink?

No.

Help.

I won't let her come in.

But she needs to see you.

I didn't ask your opinion.

I want to come in, please.

Marguerite is tired.

She is resting.

I want to go in.

I said no.

I want to go in!

Patience. Later.

What about little Marie?

She wasn't seen at lunch.

Where has she got to?

We've been looking all clay.

We looked everywhere.

Look in the trees.

It's dangerous.

Oh, I'm still capable

of climbing a ladder!

Come on.

I want to see Marguerite.

I want to see Marguerite

before she dies.

Before taking the orders myself,

I thought the people of the Church

left this world peacefully,

in serenity.

Since then I've seen

several sisters die,

a few priests...

Some allay suspicion.

With more or less skill,

they pretend...

they're happy to

join their Maker.

But I've never been fooled.

I felt the revolt

clinging to their bodies.

I suppose I'll go that way too.

We devoted ourselves to God.

Our whole life is a rebellion.

We rebel against evil,

against the world,

against ourselves.

Why won't you talk to

the girl one last time?

I am not ready.

You've no more

time to get ready.

But she is ready.

You worked well.

She knows you will leave her.

She has accepted it.

But you haven't.

You haven't accepted leaving her.

Yes.

Will you carry on learning?

Yes.

I won't be there to help you.

The other sisters

will take over.

Live!

You must live!

Sister Marguerite,

I often think of you.

All day I think of you.

In the morning, when I wake,

I think of you.

At night, as I go to sleep,

I think of you.

When I learn something new,

I think of you.

So far I have learned

a great many things.

When you see me from heaven,

I hope you are proud of me.

A new little girl arrived today.

She's like me.

Deaf and blind.

But she's different from me

when I arrived.

She doesn't shout.

She doesn't move.

She smells nice.

She smells of bread.

She's waiting.

What is she waiting for?

She's waiting for the word.

The sisters will teach her,

like you taught me.

I shall help them.

I hope we'll become friends.

You and I were

more than friends.

Marie Heurtin lived for the rest

of her life at Notre-Dame de Larnay,

near Poitiers, where she died

July 22, 1921, aged 36.

An avid reader in Braille

and unbeatable at dominoes,

she never stopped studying

and was a guide

to young deaf-blind girls

who came to Larnay after her.

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