Original subtitles

Hmm?

Well, well...

Who's that hiding there?

Don't worry, I'm not calling the gendarmes.

Ah! That's interesting.

Of all the treasures in this entire room,

can you guess which is most precious?

Mm-mmm.

No?

Actually, it's a very tiny object.

Fits right in the palm of your hand.

It would seem someone has discovered my secret.

What secret, Grandpa?

Oh, my dear.

It's a very old story

going way, way back in time...

to when I was a boy in Montreal, where I was born.

By day, I prowled the docks, waiting for a box to drop.

Then we'd steal what we could

till the boom of the foreman's rifle

would scatter us like flies.

In the summer, I slept in the streets.

And when it got cold,

I'd find an abandoned apartment

next to where someone already lived.

That way, if you slept on the other side of their kitchen,

you might feel the heat from their stove.

In the apartment across from me lived a family.

The woman was always in a rage.

Her husband was a sickly fellow

with a daughter from his first wife

who died in childbirth.

You spied on them?

Well, we didn't have television back then.

Should I stop?

No, no. What happened next?

I'm afraid it's not a happy story.

Every day, she'd yell:

"You and your father are good for nothing.

I should throw you into the streets."

Her father did what he could to comfort her.

"We must endure," he'd say.

"Our reward is in the next life."

That night, the night everything changed...

I witnessed something extraordinary, magical.

I watched over her the entire night.

I wanted to take her away from that dreadful place.

Then, before anyone was awake,

she cleaned the floor as though nothing had happened.

It was like she was ashamed.

Maybe.

Maybe I could reach them.

They glowed, perfect and round.

They tasted...

like salt...

like tears.

So you stole the girl's pearls?

Don't judge, my love.

Remember, I was just a child.

What did you do with them?

What I tried to do with anything I found.

There was a man in the neighbourhood

who was known to give you a few cents

if you brought him something of value.

When I appeared with a pearl, he was sceptical.

It was not the largest he'd seen,

but the colour, the lustre, the luminescence...

"Where did you steal it, you little rat?" he asked me.

"I didn't steal it," I said.

I told him the whole story.

He didn't believe a word of it.

I pulled out the second pearl.

"I'm not lying," I said.

I could see the wheels turning.

"A matching pair. Hmm...

Very, very rare."

"Are you going to buy them or not?" I asked.

"Easy now. Silence!

I need to get these checked."

"What does that mean?"

"It means get out!

"Come back tomorrow.

"Or maybe you'd prefer we went to the cops

"with your little fairy tale.

Out!"

There was a specialist in the old port,

a jeweller famed for his integrity.

He examined the pearls thoroughly,

amazed at their shimmer and iridescence.

"The lustre, the shape, the colour!

Perfection."

He speculated as to their origin.

"From the South Seas?

"Perhaps...

"No.

"I've never seen pearls like these.

"They smell like the sea,

"but they're not from any mollusk.

Tell me, where did you get them?"

"Oh, well, it's a very strange story,"

said the pawnbroker.

"You won't believe me."

But the jeweller didn't smile or scoff

when he heard the tale of the thieving boy

and the girl who cried pearls.

Instead, his face grew serious.

"Hold on.

Hold on a moment," said the jeweller.

"Wait right there."

The jeweller was a deeply learned and religious man

with a collection of ancient books

that would be the envy of any museum.

"After Adam and Eve were banished from the garden,"

he said, "Adam shed so many tears

"that birds and beasts alike came to drink from them,

and the tears of Eve turned into pearls."

"But that's--that's a Sunday school story,"

said the pawnbroker.

"You believe in this nonsense?"

"With God, who's to say what's possible,"

said the jeweller.

"I put my faith in money.

Question is, what are they worth?"

"Pearls of sorrow?

They're priceless," said the jeweller.

"But I can offer you this.

Share it with the young girl, or may God help you."

"I'm not running at charity," said the pawnbroker.

"I know your type.

Good day to you, sir."

"We have a d deal," said the pawnbroker.

"They're not worth much.

I'll give you a dollar apiece."

I'd never seen so much money.

"Can you bring more tomorrow?" he asked.

I promised I could.

But instead, I bought an enormous box of chocolates.

it was the first time I'd seen her smile,

maybe the first time she ever had.

That night, she did not cry

and there were no pearls.

The next morning, the pawnbroker was prepared to be generous,

but I refused the money.

"Because I love her," I said.

"I don't want her to be sad."

"What?

"You idiot! You fool!

"Life gives you one shot, just one!

"You don't marry the first girl you see.

"She'll bleed you dry like a vampire to the bones!

You have a choice," he said.

"Either she cries, and you get rich,

or she smiles and you stay in your hole forever!"

The girl waited at the window all day,

as if she thought some prince

would come knocking at any moment.

I was scared.

The pawnbroker had planted a worm of doubt in me.

It was just as he said. I was nothing.

She did not cry that night...

or the next, or the next.

But on the seventh night...

It felt like my soul had split from my body

and was floating farther and farther away.

"Bravo, bravo," said the pawnbroker.

This calls for something special."

"No. No, it's not enough.

I broke her heart," I said.

"Yes, OK.

"But she's not dead.

"Here.

It's ten times more than the last time."

Enough to change my life.

"Well done, my boy.

"A man must look after himself alone.

"You won't regret it.

"You did what had to be done.

"We'll make some good deals, you and I.

We're cut from the same cloth."

I lived like a king that day.

I bought fancy new clothes

and a third-class ticket to Paris on a steamliner.

But as I approached her house for that last time...

The next day, everything was silent.

They had packed up and disappeared.

She was gone. What could I do now?

I had one thought.

I could hear his heart beating in his chest.

"Whoa, kid! What did you do?"

I got down to business.

In return for the pearls,

I demanded he fill a shoebox with $100 bills.

Then we would trade box for box.

Cash, not trinkets.

"Yes. Uh, let me see what I can do.

"I can give you that. Yes."

But of course, the store was nothing but junk.

Even his gold was fake.

He was getting desperate.

"We could be partners. You and me, 50-50."

"You can't pay?

"After what I've put myself through?

"That box better be full when I come back,

or I'll sell these somewhere else."

"Wait, wait," he said.

"Please come back before I close.

I'll give you everything you want."

"I need money quickly, you understand,"

said the pawnbroker.

"The building's in good condition.

You won't regret it."

The jeweller wondered at the endless greed of men

and the mysterious workings of the divine.

The jeweller was astonished.

It was identical to the pearl the pawnbroker had brought him.

And there were thousands of them.

"Monsieur," he called to the foreman.

"Monsieur, over here!

Do you know what this is?"

"These?

"Oh, it's the newest thing.

"It's from Japan.

It's called plastic."

Plastic.

In truth, as greedy as the pawnbroker was,

he was just as lonely as I.

And that was how I tricked him.

I kept one as a souvenir.

I prayed I'd never see him again.

And I never did.

Hang on, hang on, hang on.

You made it all up?

That's your big secret?

It's always the story that gives something its value.

Only the story, never the object.

And personally, I still find it beautiful.

But the girl,

did she even exist?

Closed Captions: MELS