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"Ye that shall lose his life for me

shall find it.

If thou were to be perfect,

go sell what thou hast,

and give to the poor,

and come follow me."

"Each Sister shall understand

that on entering the convent,

she has made the sacrifice
of her life to God."

Well...

Are we off?

Whenever you're ready, Father.

Let's not wait for that.

Your hat's on crooked.

I tried to put it on without a mirror

to get used to...

There.

Marie didn't want to say goodbye,

and I'd rather not see Louise.

She'll be so upset.

There's no chance.

I'll wait outside.

Now, Louise,

I left some things upstairs
for you and Marie.

Divide the dresses, but you keep the
blue ones, because blue is your color.

Take good care of Father,

and don't let him do too many
operations in one day.

Why do you have to go, anyway?

Here. Come along, Gabi. I
ordered the table for one o'clock.

I wish you were all as happy as I am.

Gabi, I can see you poor,
I can see you chaste,

but I cannot see you a strong-willed girl

obedient to those bells.

In the Congo, Father,

they'll be calling me to work I love.

You may never get to the Congo.

You certainly can never ask for it.

You know that, don't you?

Your personal wishes cease to exist

when you enter that door.

Maybe it would be easier
if I went in alone, Father.

You're not an orphan,

or going without your father's consent.

Please remember this, Gabi,

remember, if you ever decide

this is not right for you,

there's no sense of failure
in coming back home.

Sister William.

- Dr. Van der Mal.
- Yes?

My name is Pascin.

You operated on me five years ago.

Oh, yes, yes. Left lung, wasn't it?

No, uh, the right.

May I present my daughter, Simone?

My daughter, Gabrielle.

Uh, a great day.

- Dr. Van der Mal.
- Sister.

I'm Sister Margharita,
Mistress of Postulants.

Welcome.

Of course you know Sister
William from the hospital.

Sister William and I have
shared many an anxious hour.

Sister William says

Gabrielle will be a truly great nurse.

I know you're largely
responsible for that.

I'll miss her in my laboratory.

We'll put her to good use in ours.

Real spirit, I think.

We call it stubbornness.

You may, too, after a few weeks.

We'll be going in shortly.

Good afternoon, Doctor.

Good afternoon, Sister.

I suppose Sister Margharita
is what they call a "living rule."

What's that?

They say if the Holy Rule
of a convent were destroyed,

it could be recaptured

by studying the behavior
of such a perfect nun.

- Doctor.
- Sister.

The dowry, I think, Father.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

Thank you, Doctor.

Goodbye, Father. I'll miss you.

I'll do my best.

I want you to be proud of me.

I want to be proud of you.

I want you to be happy.

I am happy.

Gabrielle, your number is 1072.

Thank you, Sister.

You are blessed to have this number.

It belonged to Sister Mary Pavigarde.

She was a nursing Sister in the Congo.

When you have your things,

you will form two columns
and face the door.

From now on, your place in line

is determined by your age
in this community.

The first admitted is the oldest.

That is Evonne Duvall.

Here.

Evonne Duvall,

Arieta Lecuat,

Simone Pascin,

Cecile de Plana,

Gabrielle Van der Mal,

Elaine Durot.

Your hands must learn
to stay still and out of sight

except when they're needed
for nursing or prayer.

I'm so glad you're here, Sister William.

When you go through that door,
I'm not here.

For the six months
that you're a postulant

and the year as a novice,

we may not speak to each other

except in matters of work.

I didn't know.

Do not fret about your veils.

You will soon learn
to dress without mirrors.

As you will learn tomorrow

when we start studying the Holy Rule

which governs our life here
in the community,

one of the first conditions
is the rule of silence.

Exterior and interior silence.

We observe the grand silence
from after chapel at night

until after chapel in the morning.

We will go now into chapel
for evening prayers.

Laudato Jesus Christus!

Laudato Jesus Christus.

Deo gratias.

Dear children,

you will have five days
of instruction and preparation

before you are formally
admitted as postulants

by the Superior General.

We constantly strive toward perfection

by inner silence.

The ultimate goal of this silence

is to make possible

constant conversation with God.

Therefore, we do not talk loudly,

nor do we engage
in useless conversations.

We close doors quietly.

Whenever possible,

we use a kind of sign language.

This means "May I have
permission to speak?"

This means "Excuse me."

Shall we try it?

We do this to attract
a Sister's attention.

Just the sleeve.

We never touch
another Sister, of course.

We use signs particularly during meals.

We, of course, never ask
for things for ourselves.

Each Sister is alert

to the needs of her fellow Sisters.

In walking, dear children,

we never saunter

as though we had no place to go,

nor do we hurry.

When we walk through
halls and corridors,

we practice humility

by walking close to the walls.

Now...

Tomorrow in the chapter hall,

the Superior General
will admit you formally

into the congregation,

and you will begin your
six-month terms as postulants.

The Reverend Mother Emmanuel

represents Christ among us,

and as such,
she is loved and obeyed by us.

What do you ask, my children?

To be admitted into this congregation.

Arise in the name of God.

Dear children,

it is not easy to be a nun.

It is not a life of refuge from the world.

It is a life of sacrifice.

In a way, it is a life against nature.

It is a never-ending struggle

for self-perfection.

Some of you will have
more trouble than others.

Poverty, chastity, and obedience

are extremely difficult.

Each of us here can assure you of that.

The sacrifices that are required of us

are bearable
only if we make them with love.

Just as in the world,

we can do impossible things

with a glad heart for a loved one,

so it is with us.

We can endure greater sacrifice

because the object of our love

is our Lord Jesus Christ.

In order to come into
closer union with our Lord,

you will be submitted
to exercises and tests

which are designed
to root out your faults,

curb your passions,

and prepare you for acquiring
the virtues and grace.

If you question
these exercises in humility,

these steps towards a closer union

with our crucified Lord,

you do not belong with us.

Cloistered life is made up
of an infinity of small things.

You must try to live the Holy Rule

not day by day,

but minute by minute

in a state of constant alertness

against imperfections.

The perfect nun is one who,
for the love of God,

is obedient in all things unto death.

Remember, dear children,

you can very easily cheat us,
your Sisters,

but you can never cheat yourself,

or God.

Amen.

The postulant
will learn strict obedience

to the bell, which is the voice of God,

stopping whatever
she is doing instantly

when it calls
to other duty or devotions.

What is there for lunch? Do you know?

It doesn't matter. They
won't let me eat it, anyway.

Twice each day
for the rest of your lives,

you will examine your consciences

and enter in these notebooks

each and every imperfection
against the Holy Rule.

For example,
if you drink a glass of water

between meals
without asking permission,

if you leave a light on unnecessarily,

if you're late for work,

and so on.

I accuse myself

of breaking the grand silence.

I accuse myself of uncharitable
thoughts about my Sisters.

I accuse myself

of having drunk a glass of water

between meals without permission.

I accuse myself of failing
in modesty of the eyes.

I accuse myself of worldly desires.

I accuse myself of having
spoken without necessity.

I accuse myself

of laughing during the grand silence.

I accuse myself...

I accuse myself

of daydreaming.

I accuse myself...

Enter.

Benedici te.

Dominus.

Yesterday I visited one of our Sisters

who is in hospital,

and your father was attending her.

He asked about you
and about the Congo

and the bush station where he thinks

you would to do your nursing.

I told him it was much too soon

even to think of it.

Of course, Reverend Mother.

1--

Well, go ahead.

I just want to become a good nurse

and a good nun and to do
God's work wherever I'm sent.

First, become a good nun.

We select only the very
strongest Sisters for our missions.

Your nursing qualifications would
seem to make you a likely candidate,

but you are still very far
from being mature

in the religious life.

Maturity is the armor
of our missionaries,

and this is not achieved in a day.

Since tomorrow is the day of vesture

when you receive the habit of a novice,

we must talk today about detachment.

You have already detached yourselves

from family and friends.

Now we have the difficult detachment

from things and memories.

Tonight when you go to your cells,

you will find parts of your new habit,

and on your tables
the only possessions

allowed you from now on.

A basket will be passed,

and you must put in it
of your own free will

any object you still have

which might call up memories

of your former life.

What do you ask, my daughters?

We ask for the blessing of God

and for the favor to be received

into His congregation.

We offer our Lord our liberty,

our memory, and our will,

and we ask only for His love

and His holy grace.

Are you firmly resolved
to despise the honors, riches,

and all the vain pleasures of this world

in order to prepare
for a closer union with God?

We are so resolved, Monsignor.

Do you make this
request of your own free will?

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Yes.
- Yes.

- Yes.
- Yes.

Yes.

May the Lord who has begun this

bring it to perfection.

Amen.

Go, my children.

Divest yourselves
of the vanity of this world

and receive for your bodies
the habit of humility.

Evonne Duvall will be known

as Sister Marie Sebastian.

Henriette de la Croix will be known

as Sister Marie Bernadette.

Simone Pascin will be known
as Sister Marie Christine.

Cecile de Plana will be known
as Sister Marie Joseph.

Gabrielle van der Mal
will be known as Sister Luke.

Sister, you make a beautiful nun.

Sister.

You're blushing.

It happened to me, too, in my ward.

We shouldn't blush.
I'm sure we shouldn't.

How can we help it?

It must mean
some wrong awareness of self.

Must we write it in our notebooks?

I don't know.

Should we write that we talked alone?

I always start it.

Your training as a postulant
has been mostly in externals.

Now, as novices, you will
be devoting the next year

to the real formation of a nun.

During that entire year,

none of you
will leave the motherhouse.

We will pay particular attention

to the removal of faults,
the control of passions,

and the acquiring of virtue

so that you may be born again
in Christ.

We will have exercises
to develop charity,

forbearance, and humility,

and tests to destroy love of self.

Two of these tests
are the culpa and the penance.

From now on, in addition
to writing in your notebooks,

you will, once a week,
proclaim before your Sisters

your external faults against the rule,

and you will be given
a penance to perform

in refectory or in chapel.

The degree of humiliation will tell you

how much pride is still alive in you.

Only as your prides slowly crumble

will you get the first glimpse
of true humility.

If any Sister has observed you
in an external fault

which you have not proclaimed,

it is her duty to proclaim you in charity

so that you may be aware of
your errors and correct them.

I say my culpa for speaking
without necessity,

for being late for chapel,

for letting a door slam
without penance.

What do you have to say in charity?

I proclaim my Sister for giving in

to the temptation of vanity

by looking at herself in a glass window.

You will say
three Hail Marys in refectory

for the Sister who had
the charity to proclaim you

and three Hail Marys
for each imperfection,

and pray God to help you
to perfect yourself.

Mother, I will try to correct myself

with the grace of God.

I say my culpa for breaking the rule

of obedience by not stopping work

when I heard the bell,

for having spilled milk twice
in the refectory,

for having spoken without necessity

during grand silence.

What have you to say in charity?

I proclaim myself and Sister Luke

for seeking each other's company.

You will ask God to help you

to overcome this attachment,

and you will kiss the feet of the nuns

and beg your bread in refectory.

Mother, I will try to correct myself

with the grace of God.

Dear Lord, the more I try,

the more imperfect I become.

I seem to fail in charity,
humility, and obedience.

Pride is not being burned out of me.

When I succeed in obeying the rule,

I fail at the same time

because I have pride in succeeding.

Tomorrow you go on retreat

- before taking first vows, don't you?
- Shh.

The grand silence
doesn't matter for me.

I'm not taking my vows.

I'm leaving.

So I can talk without having
to say a culpa or do a penance.

Why?

Mother Emmanuel said,
"Remember, you can cheat us,

but you cannot cheat yourself or God."

Well, to go on would be cheating God,

to be a hypocrite.

We all have our doubts.

- My confessor--
- Of course,

but I know myself.

I could never be like you,

as strong as you.

I am the weakest of us all.

If you were, you would
not be taking your vows.

Now I've earned you another penance

by talking to you in the grand silence.

I'm sorry.

Goodbye.

Pray for me.

Amen.

I, Gabrielle van der Mal,
known as Sister Luke,

promise to God
in the presence of Your Grace

and our Reverend Mother
to obey the Holy Rule

of this congregation and to persevere

in the life of obedience,
chastity, and poverty,

for the period of three years.

Amen.

Sister Luke, this is the discipline

for penance in private.

You will use it twice each week at night

while you are saying the Miserere.

Remember, it is essentially
a symbol of penance.

Too much is as bad as too little.

Don't forget
you are only an instrument.

In yourself, you are nothing

until you are lifted up.

Tomorrow you will leave for
the School of Tropical Medicine

in Antwerp.

Mmm-hmm.

Excuse me.

Mmm-hmm.

Your father's daughter.

Excellent.

Excuse me.

Hmm.

Well?

Sister Pauline, how long
were you in the Congo?

- Seven years.
- You worked quite a lot with the lepers, didn't you?

- Yes.
- Yes!

Well, that is the bacillus
which causes leprosy.

Thank you, Doctor.

I, too, have lost some of my quickness,

my memory,

from too much Congo sun,

too much quinine.

If any of you think that the Congo

that you'll find today in 1930

is anything like the Congo
that we found

when we went there 20 years ago,

you will be mistaken.

There are now bicycle paths
through the brush.

Uh, close that window,
somebody, will you?

I know you think it's hot.

Wait till you've had your share
of malaria.

Don't be selfish, Sister Luke.
Help your Sisters.

She was brought up looking
through a microscope, you know,

whilst most of you were playing
with kaleidoscopes.

Sister Luke.

Would you help me with this?

That's the bacillus
that causes tuberculosis.

I thought it was the leprosy bacillus.

They're very alike,

both rod-shaped, both acid-fast,

both with a slight shadow,

almost like an enclosing capsule.

But if you look very closely,

you'll see that the leprosy bacillus

is slightly fatter and longer.

Enter.

Benedici te.

Dominus.

I'm in trouble, Reverend Mother.

It's Sister Pauline.

My conscience is not at peace

because of my unfriendly
feelings towards her.

At the motherhouse,

we were told to overcome
feelings like this

by trying to help the person.

For five months, I've tried to
help Sister Pauline in the courses.

She needs help.

But she will not permit friendship,

and so I do not know what to do.

Sister Pauline has already come to me.

The feeling you describe is mutual.

She thinks you are full of pride.

She does not believe that
you can ever achieve humility.

I'm ashamed, my Mother,

for her and for me.

All of this sounds very
childish when you tell it.

Her dislike, I believe, is based on fear.

She worries that she will not
be able to pass the examination,

or if she does, that she will
be far below you in grade.

This could easily mean that
she could not return to the Congo.

You have been given
a truly great opportunity

to make a sacrifice for God.

You asked what you might do.

Would you, Sister Luke,

be able to fail your
examination to show humility?

My Mother...

I would be willing if the motherhouse
knows of this and approves.

Then it would be a humility
with hooks, as we say,

a humility that takes
something back for the sacrifice,

in this case, the satisfaction of
knowing that the motherhouse knows.

Courage needs witnesses.

Yes. Real humility, on the other hand,

passes unperceived
between God and the soul.

You have heard our phrase,
"do good and disappear"?

How do we know when we are humble?

When we can accept a real
humiliation, such as this failure.

How can I know
God wants this from me?

Go and ask Him.

But remember, you are weighing an
opportunity that may never come again.

Out of his eternal time,
God chooses His moment

to offer the most perfect alliance

with each individual soul.

Good morning, Sister Luke.

Good morning, Doctor.

I promised I would call your father

immediately after the examination.

I shall defer to my eminent colleagues

for the first question.

Sister, the board would like
to hear from you

in what parts of the tsetse fly

will the trypanosomes be found?

You may take your time
with this question, Sister.

We have been working
on them since the 1880s.

They will be found in the...

Perhaps you'd like
the question repeated?

In the tsetse fly, the
trypanosomes will be found

in the gut, mouth parts,
and salivary glands,

in all of which sites they multiply.

We would like to hear a resume

of the special clinical types
of pernicious

as differentiated from chronic
or latent malaria.

Cerebral, algid, intermittent fever,

blackwater fever,
and broncopneumonic foam.

I have good news.

All four of our Sisters
have passed their examinations.

Sister Pauline will return to the Congo.

Sisters Timothy and Ellen
will go to the Congo, too.

Sister Luke will leave
tomorrow morning

to join the nursing staff

of our mental sanatorium
near Brussels.

Perhaps Reverend Mother feels

you are not yet ready for the Congo.

You must learn to accept
with love whatever comes to you.

It is essential in religious life.

You passed fourth in a class of 80.

Everything they do
is to be accepted as normal.

Sister Agnes, Sister Luke.

Good morning, Mother Christophe.

Our practical nurses
stand a four-hour shift.

Our Sisters take on limited duty,

sometimes from eight to ten hours.

These are the cells for our
most dangerous patients.

We try to approach even
our most dangerous cases

with gentle and persuasive reasoning.

Sister Bertolt, this is Sister Luke,

who is to be with us for a while.

- Sister Bertolt.
- Sister Luke.

This one thinks that
she is the Archangel Gabriel,

so we call her that.

Good afternoon, Archangel.

She's a schizophrenic
and very dangerous.

She has perfectly sane periods

when she talks intelligently
about her farm.

A Sister is forbidden to open
the door of any of these cells

unless there is another Sister with her

or a practical helper.

Why not, to be able to get
through to someone like her?

Hello.

Hello, Archangel.

This is the room where we give
the treatment for the violent cases.

We keep them from four to eight hours

in baths maintained
at a constant temperature.

The sound that you hear are their heels

beating up and down against the tubs.

Sister Marie is on duty.

She generally remains there
from eight to ten hours at a time.

Sister Luke.

It isn't one of my pleasantest duties

opening and reading
other people's letters,

but sometimes it does allow me
to help them.

As you see, your father
asks an angry question,

why should you waste

all these months of your time here

after your strenuous courses
in tropical medicine?

I must apologize for my father.

Your father's a very great man,

but I don't think he understands

that the colonies are only for Sisters

perfected in the religious life.

He asked what you could
possibly learn in this place.

When I'm permitted to write to him,

I will tell him what I can learn here,

obedience.

Perhaps that's what
Mother Emmanuel had in mind.

But this would make
an excellent proving ground.

I shall try.

And I shall try with you,

since your soul is in my care

while you are here.

Thank you, Reverend Mother.

Yes?

I'm so thirsty.

May I have a drink of water, please?

A terrible thirst.

The fish was so salty.

Oh, God...

God...

God.

Oh, God.

The Archangel.

Pride...

Pride and disobedience...

- Always disobedience.
- Don't try to talk.

I would probably have done
the same thing.

I accuse myself also of pride

in thinking I could handle
the Archangel myself.

I accuse myself
of using personal judgment

and not ringing the bell for help.

I accuse myself of a sense of heroism.

Mother, in the three days

I've been lying in the infirmary,

I've accused myself of almost
every possible imperfection

against the Holy Rule.

They're always such glaring faults.

At the school of tropical medicine,

Mother Marcella offered me the chance

to show true humility
by failing an examination.

I know.

Mother Marcella means well,

but she was very wrong
to make that suggestion to you.

My child, I don't
underestimate for a moment

the seriousness of your faults,

but you mustn't destroy yourself

with guilt and remorse.

You must learn to bend
a little, or you'll break.

Long before I entered the
order, I had a rule of my own,

all or nothing.

I want to be a good nun or--

You will be a good nun, Sister Luke.

I thought one would reach
some sort of resting place

where obedience would be
natural and struggle would end.

There is no resting place, ever.

But you must have patience
with yourself.

Unhappy saints are lost
from the beginning.

Ask for God's help and guidance,

and I know you will make
your final vows.

"I, Sister Luke, promise to God,

in the presence of Your Grace

and of our Reverend Mother,

to persevere in the life

of obedience, chastity,
and poverty until death.

Amen."

I declare you from today

the bride of Jesus Christ,
son of Almighty God.

Pater et filius et spiritus sanctus.

Amen.

I declare you from today

the bride of Jesus Christ,
son of Almighty God.

Mother, pray for me.

My daughter, may God give you peace.

Don't be proud of me, father.

This is really flight.

It'll be so much easier in the Congo

to remember I'm nothing.

There will be no worldly
associations In the bush station,

in the jungle.

Please, God, let me do some good.

There's Mother Mathilde.

We are very fortunate
in Mother Mathilde.

Mama Augustine.

Kalulu.

Welcome home, Mama Augustine.

It's good to be back.

Illunga.

This is Sister Luke.

This is Kalulu.

He practically runs the convent.

Sister Augustine.

Welcome back.

Welcome.

- This is Sister Aurelie.
- Sister.

Sister Luke.

Now, a short boat trip
across the Congo,

and you're home.

And there's the Congo.

Drums tell of your arrival,
Mama Augustine.

Yours, too, Mama Luke.

What are the drums saying, Kalulu?

Oh...

Mama Augustine, she can read drums.

Sister Luke,
I thought it might amuse you

to know what the drums
said about you last night.

The way Kalulu laughed, it
must be something very funny.

They said, "Held hands
with Big Mama Mathilde

on way back to Sisterhouse,
therefore esteemed.

Talks little, looks much,

young enough to bear children."

Oh.

We call her the novice,

but like all little novices,

she's still imperfect in discipline.

Come along with me now
on my rounds.

We'll start with the native hospital.

How we've needed
this extra pair of hands.

- Jambo.
- Jambo.

Jambo.

Jambo means hello, but of course
you knew that. You've been studying.

- Yes Jambo ..
- Jambo.

Mama Luke.

Jambo Mama Luke ,.

Only one generation ago

their fathers were savages
in the forest.

We couldn't run the hospital
without them.

You'll notice we haven't
converted them all yet.

Some still wear

the witch doctor's fetish
around their necks.

That is our surgeon, Dr. Fortunati.

He spends half his time here.

The rest of the day he operates
in the white hospital.

I'm afraid she's too fast for me,

but nursing them every day, I'll learn.

I see our chaplain Father Andre is here.

He is greatly loved.

Even the non-Catholics

hold their children up to him
to be blessed when he passes.

Father Andre, you have a new
soul to look after, Sister Luke.

- Ah, Sister, we are so glad you are here.
- Father.

We do need another pair of hands.

The barber's been
itching to get at that beard for years,

but the natives have a picture
of God with a beard,

so priests have to wear beards
in the Congo.

No beard, no converts.

Excuse me, please.

Jambo.

Jambo.

Jambo.

Jambo.

We are
only beginning to persuade them

to come to hospital
to have their babies.

Not all of them trust us yet.

Many of them still prefer to
deliver themselves in the bush.

They scoop out a hole, and that's it.

That's how they call
all children to school.

- Sister.
- Sister.

Sister is teaching the mothers
how to wash their children.

You know, I had hoped
to go to the bush station,

but seeing all of this,
I'm very happy to be here.

But Mother Emmanuel
sent you a cable, didn't she?

Yes, that I was to be here with you.

With us, yes, but not
at the native hospital.

Across the way at the white
hospital with the Europeans.

One of the nurses here got TB,

and we had to send her home.

TB makes further service
in the Congo impossible,

so you'll have to hold down
two jobs over there,

supervising the nurses
and assisting Dr. Fortunati.

I'm sorry,

but it's a lesson we all
have to learn, isn't it,

disappointment?

We'll go there now.

- Good morning, Mother Mathilde.
- Illunga, this is Sister Luke.

- Good morning.
- Morning.

Illunga will be your deputy
here in the hospital.

Good.

You will be assisting Dr. Fortunati here.

He is a genius and a devil.

He works himself to exhaustion,

and his nurses, too.

I'm used to doctors. My father...

I'm sorry. I forgot.

Your father is a great surgeon.

I know.

You must always leave surgery
the moment operations are over.

You must never linger
to discuss a case.

You will be tempted to
because he is a marvel,

but remember he is
also a man, a bachelor,

and, I'm afraid, a nonbeliever.

Don't ever think for an instant, Sister,

that your habit will protect you.

Now I'll leave you
to look over your equipment.

Yes, Mother.

You'll say six Aves and a
Paternoster for that bit of vanity, Sister.

I'm Dr. Fortunati.
You must be the new Sister.

- Yes. I'm Sister Luke.
- How do you do?

How do you do?

Well, the drums were right.

I see somebody told you
what they said.

I believe I'm to assist you
in the operating room, Doctor.

Yes. I hope you bear up
longer than the last Sister.

I can only try.

These summer months,
this room gets like a bake oven

by 9:00 in the morning,
so I operate at 5:00.

That means you get up at 4:00.

I'll be here.

Sometimes I operate right
through the time of your mass,

so you'll get used to taking communion

at that door there on those occasions.

I'll have to ask permission
of Reverend Mother.

Reverend Mother's not in charge here.

This is a government hospital.

- Still, I...
- You're paid by the government.

Therefore you're responsible to them.

They don't pay you to pray,
but to assist me.

I understand that--

It's all right.
The Reverend Mother's given

permission to the operating Sisters.

I can't have my nurses running off
to mass in the middle of an operation.

5:00 in the morning, eh?

Have you ever assisted
at an operation before?

Yes. My father's Dr. Hubert van der Mal.

Oh, I see.

You'll say another five Aves
and beg your soup

for that little display of pride, Sister.

These boys have to be trained
to do more than dropping things.

Yes, Doctor. I'll work with them.

Tie that.

Don't you faint on me.

I won't.

I asked Mother Mathilde
to let the operating Sister

eat something before
she came in the morning,

but she won't, so if you faint--

I won't faint, Doctor, if you promise

not to eat garlic again
the night before an operation.

All right, I promise.

All right, go on.

When you've been at this
longer, I'll explain what I was doing,

but being the daughter
of Dr. Van der Mal,

I expect you could instruct me.

Please don't mention
my father again, Doctor.

- Good morning, Reverend Mother.
- Good morning.

I wouldn't say their hands are
as gentle as Sister Luke's,

but then, whose are?

This is certainly a great step forward.

I'd like to borrow Sister Luke

to organize our boys in the textile mills.

Just a moment, Sister Luke.

I had a telephone call
from the bishop last night.

He had read your name in the paper
and heard your name on the drums

about making some innovations here.

He asked me what I knew about it.

I had no answer.

It didn't occur to me
to ask for permission.

He also asked me why one of my nuns

was trying to singularize herself.

I have failed you, Reverend Mother.

A superior must know
what is happening

in a hospital entrusted to her care.

You have done something
very important.

Your only fault is in
not telling me in advance

and saving me the embarrassment.

- Mama Luke...
- Yes, Emile.

Where are your husbands?

I don't understand, Emile.

Where are the husbands of
the white mamas at the house?

Have you asked
Mama Mathilde about this?

- Yes.
- What did she say?

Something about you all
being the wives of one man,

but I know that can't be right.

Father Andre say it's wrong
to have more than one wife.

Well, it's not easy to explain.

I can understand

some of the others
not having husbands,

but not you.

The fact is, Emile, I have one.

Well, I thought you would.

But He's in heaven.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mama Luke.

I'm very sorry.

Can you do without me
for a few days, Sister?

What do you mean, Doctor?

Well, I think we both need a rest.

- I'm going up to Lake Kivu for the weekend to do some fishing.
- I see.

Give you a chance
to catch up on your prayers.

If there's an emergency?

Well, send for one
of the doctors in the town.

Keep up the morphine
with the terminal cancer,

but don't touch the dressings
on the skin graft.

You better get some rest yourself.

I've been working you pretty
hard in the last few months.

I'm all right. Have a fine weekend.

Did you ever go fishing?

It's impossible to talk to somebody

who's not allowed to remember.

See you on Monday.

Sister, the mission just called. Oh.

Father Andre's had a bad
accident. They're bringing him here.

See if you can still find
Dr. Fortunati, please, Sister.

Call one of the town doctors
for surgery immediately.

Is the leg very bad?

It's shattered.

The doctor will have to amputate.

We can't reach a doctor.

I've got one of the boys to keep trying.

In that case, we'll have to do
the best we can to save the leg.

I'd like to save you from the sin of
pride, Sister, but I'm afraid I can't.

This man will take nearly
a year to mend completely,

but you saved the Father and his leg.

Mother Mathilde and
Sister Aurelie assisted me.

Yes, and all the other nuns

praying for you back
at the Motherhouse, I know,

but you were the one who did it.

It's a photograph of the final X-ray

of Father Andre's leg,

just to remind you what
an excellent nurse you are.

Mother Mathilde's making a trip up the
river next month to visit the bush stations.

I'm going to send you along, too,

to make the annual leprosy
check on Father Vermeuhlen.

I see you don't know about him.

No.

He's known as the white saint
of the leper colony.

The trip will do you good,

and meeting
Father Vermeuhlen will, too.

Religion hasn't made him
tense and disciplined.

A nun is a disciplined person.

Yes. But not necessarily tense.

As a surgeon, it's not my
business to probe into the mind,

but I'd say that tension is the
sign of an exhausting inner struggle.

Hmm, the grand silence, huh?

Do you realize that every
time you talk to me like this,

I should go down on my knees
before my Sisters and proclaim my fault?

I'm sorry.

There's Father Vermeuhlen.

Father Vermeuhlen was one of
the first missionaries in the Congo.

He lived all alone in the bush.

One day he disappeared.
They thought he was dead,

but years later they found him
living with the natives.

As penance for his sin,

he asked to be allowed to devote

the rest of his life to the lepers.

Well, I'll show you
the rest of the station.

It's a makeshift,

but at least they're being cared for.

If left in the forest with their
tribes, they'd be abandoned to die.

Do they realize how ill they are?

Somehow we're all of us
protected from full realization.

How's that rascal Fortunati?

He gave me complete
instructions about you,

all the tests I must make.

No, we can forget about the tests.

I know they're a nuisance, but
that is the real reason for our trip.

He always said it was
just a matter of time.

Reverend Mother,
I'm sorry to ask again,

but may I have permission
to be absent from vespers?

There are some slides I must...

Thank you, Reverend Mother.

What are we going to do about you?

We operated at 5:00 in the morning.

It's now after midnight,
and we operate again at 5:00.

I'll be there.

But how many more days
will you be there,

and what will I do if you're not?

You comfort your patients
by listening to their troubles.

Who listens to yours?

I'm responsible for the health

of the patients in this hospital,

and for your health, too.

You go to bed!

I don't know what to
do, Doctor. I have TB.

Who said so?

Who told you that?

I just made a test.

It'll mean my going back to Europe.

But you're the only one in the
whole Congo I can work with.

I can't lose you.

Let's have a look.

I'm not allowed.
I should call another Sister.

Let's have a look.

I'm ready.

You're never wrong, but
let's hope this time you are.

Take a deep breath.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Now cough.

Breathe.

Cough.

Breathe.

We're lucky, Sister.

It's a small summit lesion,

and I think we've got it in time.

You can stand the gold treatment.

It's a bit rough on the
kidneys, but you're strong.

I'll take the responsibility.

- I'll have to tell Mother Mathilde.
- Why?

Obedience. I must.

They'll send you home if you do.

I know.

You're afraid you won't be able
to stand the convent

if they send you back.

I'm going to tell you something
about yourself, Sister.

I've never worked
with any kind of nurse

except nuns since I began,

and you're not in the mold,
Sister. You never will be.

You're what's called a worldly nun,

ideal for the public,
ideal for the patients,

but you see things your own way.

You stick to your own ideas.

You'll never be the kind of nun
your convent expects you to be.

That's your illness.
The TB is a byproduct.

I can cure the byproduct
if you want me to.

I want to stay.

All right, leave it to me.

I'll tell the Mother Superior

in such a way that
she can't send you home.

We'll put you up in the little pavilion,

where you'll be sleeping
practically in the treetops.

How long?

Five, six months, perhaps,

but remember, I'm only
working on the byproduct.

The main illness is for you to cure.

I'll try.

Anything you knew before I did,

keep under your bonnet if you can.

That is, unless your pride
as a genius of the microscope

doesn't get the better of you.

I'll take an X-ray in the morning.

Come in.

His name is Felix. Mother
Mathilde said you might have him.

Really?

Illunga gave him to me.

I'd rather he'd given me that
fetish from around his neck.

This reminds me of a tree
house that I had when I...

Anything you want, you ask for it,

because Dr. Fortunati says
you're to be pampered.

Isn't it wonderful?

Thanks for Felix.

Refuse nothing, ask for nothing.

It's a prairie oyster. Swallow it quickly.

Each night you'll be
awakened with sandwiches

- and two glasses of wine.
- I see.

The drums have already
started passing the word,

so by tomorrow we'll be swamped

with food and drink for Sister Luke.

Don't cry.

Don't think too much. Relax.

Live life as it comes from day to day.

I want you to drink as much of
this Belgian beer as you can,

unless you want to come out of this
gold dust cure with ruined kidneys.

How can I drink so much and--

It's all right. There's nobody
to see you here, except him.

And you know about monkeys...

That's right, it's good to see you laugh.

You keep laughing, Sister.

I will.

I said rest, absolute rest.

Thank you, Mother.

I don't know if I'm well yet,

but I feel so well, so completely well.

It's strange that I had to fall ill

to learn to take
each day and each night

as a gift from God without struggle.

It seems impossible, but
when I say my culpa to you next,

I don't think I'll have any
imperfections against the rule to proclaim.

Except that tonight you
talked during the grand silence.

Let me see.

That's a whole week of normal.

You're allowed to have pride, Doctor.

Take pride in your cure.

Are you cured?

The slides
and the temperature seem to...

It'll be good to have you
back in surgery.

It will be good to be useful again.

Don't rush it, Sister. It's not going to
be easy to return to the community,

even to this select little
gathering here in the Congo.

I'm going to miss this.

Oh.

At least he's curious.

If I could only get him
into the chapel Christmas Eve.

Well, what do you think of it, Illunga?

It's for the chapel...

Christmas Eve.

Come in. Come in and have a look at it.

I'm afraid not this year.

I would give anything
if I could convert him.

Mama.

You'll spoil them, Sister.

It's one of our building boys
who's come for first aid.

You think if you bandage their
fingers you'll get their souls.

Well, maybe you're right.

No inside dispensary.

Illunga, help me lift her.

Illunga.

She's dead, Reverend Mother.

Illunga?

If you're on your way to Contagion,

please take these to Sister Raphael.

- I don't understand.
- What?

You're not angry with us?

There's no place
in our hearts for anger.

But this killing, Mama Luke.

Not even then.

Why did he do it, Illunga?

A witch doctor told him that
if he killed a white woman,

he'd be rid of the ghost
of his dead wife.

I feel sorry for him.

If such a death happened with
us, we'd tie the murderer to a stake

and cut his body for fish bait.

But we would not.

We've been taught to forgive.

That's what you must try and
make the other boys understand.

Tell the boys we hope

they'll all come
to chapel Christmas Eve.

Maybe even you, Illunga.

Sometime this afternoon,
we'll discuss the Engelbert case.

I want to give you
instructions for the trip.

The trip?

Yes. Hasn't Mother Mathilde told you?

What?

I have to send you back to Belgium

with the Engelbert case.

You are the only one qualified,

the only one we can possibly send.

He is important to the colony,

and we can only avoid
a complete mental breakdown

if we get him to a sanatorium
with proper facilities.

Of course, Mother.

I hope the Motherhouse

will return you to us
as soon as possible.

In the meantime, at long last,

they are sending me another Sister

with qualifications similar to yours.

Dr. Fortunati will give you
instructions about the case.

We shall all miss you.

You'll have native guards to help
you on the train as far as the coast.

After that, the ship's doctor
will share the responsibility.

I'll give you a supply of
sedatives in case he needs them.

You think they'll send you back here?

I don't know.

There's going to be a war in Europe.

I know.

They tell me somebody else is coming
out to fill in for you or take your place.

Yes.

Somebody else will have to train her.

I'm taking a long vacation
when you leave here.

I couldn't help it.

Engelbert's an important man. There
was nobody else. I had to send you.

I understand.

I wish I could keep you here,

as much for your sake as for mine.

Supposing they keep you
indefinitely in Belgium?

You seem so sure of your
religious strength, but I'm not.

Once you set foot in the Motherhouse,

the walls, the discipline, the silence--

Will you indicate the dosage
for the sedatives?

But if they keep you indefinitely,

will the strength be enough?

Yes.

You're sure it's not that
ferocious will of yours?

I'm sure.

But when you get there, you're
going to wish that you were--

Doctor, a nun is not a person
who wishes or desires.

But you're going to feel that you can't--

When you're ready to discuss
the case, please ring for me.

I'm coming back, you beautiful thing.

Do you hear me? I'm coming back.

Come in, Mama Luke.

This is for you.

Tell them thank you.

How is your health, my child?

Very good, thank you,
Reverend Mother.

So many fine letters
from colonial families

and missionary fathers
about your good work.

You were liked and respected
by everyone out there,

including your native boys, I see.

Do you wish me
to give it to your father?

I would rather it be kept in the
congregation to which it belongs.

When I return to...

When I leave here, it would be
good to know it is in the Motherhouse.

That is very generous of you.

You will be a splendid example

for our postulants and novices here,

and I think they
will be good for you, too.

The more we're looked to for example,

the better examples we become.

Don't you find that true?

Yes, Reverend Mother.

So you will stay here with us, then.

Now you must have a good rest.

You must not worry about anything.

Simply enjoy being home again.

Couldn't I help at the
hospital, Reverend Mother?

No, my child, not now.

You must have a few quiet months

to renew your spiritual life.

This will look very nice in our museum.

Gabi. Gabi.

You look thin, Gabi.

You always say that, Father.

It's always true.

No, it isn't.

Of course, I don't believe that rubbish

about your having
had TB in the Congo.

Don't believe it, then.

One just doesn't survive
and have TB in the tropics.

Here I am.

You must have had a good doctor.

Exceptional.

I suppose they'll be sending
you back after a little rest.

I don't know.

If there's not a war.

They talked about
nothing else on the boat.

Your brother's in the army.

Little Pierre?

Oh, it's Big Pierre.

Your sisters' husbands
are in the army, too.

Marie and, uh, Louise
will come to see you soon.

There can't be a war.

How are you really, Gabi?

I'm very well, Father.

Would you like to see the X-rays?

I mean in here?

How are you in there?

Still very lonely for you.

You know...

Jean never married.

Father, you're an incurable romantic.

Jean isn't in my thoughts anymore.

"I finally had to take a hand

in training your successor,

but she'll never replace you.

she has no rebellion in her.

That girl was born to be a nun,

something you could
never be in a thousand years,

Reverend Sister."

You're not in
love with him, are you, my child?

No, Mother, of course
I've not fallen in love with him.

I admire him deeply
for his skill and selflessness

when there is a life to be saved.

I think always he's very close to God

in those unearthly hours
when he operates.

Dear Lord, help me to
detach from these memories.

How can I be a good nun if I
cannot get the Congo out of my blood?

Suppose you're detained
in the Motherhouse indefinitely.

Will your strength be enough then?

Ordinarily, I would
advise you to go on a retreat

to try to regain your inner silence.

I have done nothing
but pray and meditate.

Many years ago,
I came back from the missions

to the quiet of this house.

I know what you are feeling.

There can be no comparison,
Reverend Mother.

I've been remembering you
especially in my prayers,

knowing the agony
you've been going through.

For weeks, each tap on my door,

I thought it would be you.

I know it would have been the greater
perfection to have stayed here quietly.

And the greater danger, in your case.

I can't send you back to the
Congo with the talk of war.

But there is an important
post as assistant in surgery

at our hospital on the Holland border.

Thank you, Reverend Mother.

I have just received a telephone call

from our Reverend Mother Emmanuel.

At 3:00 a.m.,
Rotterdam was bombarded.

Many thousands killed.

Belgium was bombarded at five o'clock.

The country's system of sluices
have been put into operation,

and certain main roads
are already blown up

to prevent the German advances.

I tell you this only
that you'll be prepared.

Our work must go on
as if nothing has happened.

It will be your responsibility

to set the example of courage and calm

and to retain in your hearts

the spirit of charity for all,

even the enemies of our country.

Brussels fell to the enemy today.

All of Holland is in German hands.

The Maginot Line has fallen,

and Northern France
has been occupied.

The Belgian army, the British
expeditionary forces,

and the 9th French army

are fighting with their backs
to the sea at Dunkirk.

King Leopold has signed a surrender.

He asks the population
to behave with dignity

and discipline.

The Sisters are urged not to take sides

and not to participate in any activity

against the forces of occupation

so that the orderly life of
the community is not disturbed,

and so that our hospital work
may go on without confusion.

I can only say again, Monsieur,
that Mademoiselle Lisa

cannot accept telephone calls
while on duty.

All right, Father. Just a moment.

Someone who says he's Father John.

Sister Luke, may I have permission

to go into town for an hour?

My uncle is sick.

Now, Lisa, you've used that
sick-uncle excuse twice in the last week.

- Have I?
- Yes.

I have to go, Sister.

Then tell me why.

You say you want to become a nun?

Well, one of the first things
to learn is obedience to...

We are hiding our soldiers
who've escaped.

We're hoping to get them to England.

- The underground is try--
- That's enough.

Your brother may be one of the boys--

Please.

I have to go.

Please, may I?

If ever I can be of help, tell me.

Hurry, hurry.

Did you mean that about help?

Dear Lord, forgive me.
I cannot obey anymore.

What I do from now on
is between you and me alone.

I have a letter for you, Sister Luke.

Well, I'll have to show it
to Mother Superior.

Don't.

"I hope this letter reaches you.

Your brother, Pierre.

Father was killed a week ago

on the road between Givet and Fumet.

He was tending refugees

when the Germans
machine-gunned them."

If such a death
happened with us, Mama Luke,

we would tie the murderer to a stake

and cut his body for fish bait.

But we would not.

We have been taught to forgive.

Oh, Father.

Father.

Father.

Father, I no longer belong in a convent.

Why do you say that, my child?

I am a hypocrite in the religious life.

I wear the habit of obedience,
but I flout the rule.

I wear the cross of Christ
above a heart filled with hate.

You must try, my child.

These times are sent to test us.

I wonder if I'm even a good Christian.

When I think of my father,
I can't forgive the enemy,

and this is only one of my faults.

You must pray to God to deliver
you from revenge in the heart.

Today a German war nurse died here,

and try as I would, I couldn't regret it.

My whole life work has been
dedicated to saving lives,

and I almost rejoiced.

Perhaps it is too much to ask.

Father, I don't believe that.

It is not too much to ask.

I simply cannot obey,
and if I cannot obey--

You're so hard on yourself, my child.

Father, please lay my case
before the cardinal.

I am no longer a nun.

You solemnly promised
to obey unto death.

You should seek God's pleasure
and your own joy

in keeping faith with your vows.

Sacrifice is the only test
of our love of God.

Now make a Novena
unto our Blessed Virgin.

She always works miracles.

Haven't you noticed?

All right, Father, because you ask me.

Reverend Mother Emmanuel is
paying a visit in a week's time.

Please wait and speak to her.

I do not want to see Mother Emmanuel.

Are you afraid she'll
dissuade you from leaving?

It isn't that.

Please lay my case before the cardinal.

Won't you wait a little longer?

Father, you must forgive me,

but if you do not put my case
before the cardinal,

I shall do something that would kill me.

I shall leave without permission.

Why did you make me
ask for you, my child?

Didn't you know that I'd
been aware of your struggle?

It is too late for discussions,
Reverend Mother.

I'm at the end of my struggles.

Your Sisters love you,

the doctors trust you,

and your students
respect you enormously.

You can cheat your Sisters,

but you cannot cheat yourself or God.

Have you struggled long enough

to say surely that
you've come to the end?

I think I've been struggling all
these years, Reverend Mother.

In the beginning, each struggle
seemed different from the one before it,

but then they began to repeat,

and I saw they all had the same core,

obedience without question,
without inner murmuring,

perfect obedience as Christ practiced it,

as I no longer can.

Yes.

There are times when my
conscience asks which has priority,

it or the Holy Rule?

When the bell calls me to
chapel, I often have to sacrifice

what might be the decisive moment

in a spiritual talk with a patient.

I'm late every day for chapel
or refectory or both.

When I have night duty,
I break the grand silence

because I can no longer cut short a talk

with a patient who seems to need me.

Mother, why must God's helpers
be struck down by five bells

in the very hours when men in
trouble want to talk about their souls?

You entered the convent to be a nun,

not to be a nurse.

The religious life must be more important
to you than your love of medicine.

Won't you make
one more effort for God,

and for me as His instrument?

I have tried, Reverend Mother.

When I go from here,

I shall take you with me in my heart

and keep you each day in my prayers.

Lisa?

Sister.

Lisa, you often talked
about entering the convent.

Yes, Sister. I'm going to.

You're not entering because of
any personal feeling of admiration

you might have for...

For any of the Sisters?

No, not really.

I don't think so.

I just wanted to know, Lisa,
because I'm going out.

I felt you were going to.

I'm glad you're coming in.

Is it certain that you're leaving?

I have asked.

What happens now?

I have no idea.

Here's an address.

The underground needs nurses.

We shall miss you.

And I shall miss...

You'll be a fine nun, Lisa,

not a failure.

But--

As a representative of the archbishop,

I must ask you, Sister Luke,

if you're doing this
of your own free will.

Yes.

Sister, have you really considered

the seriousness of what you're doing?

Yes.

There are these three papers
to sign, Sister.

One copy is for you, one is for us,

and one is for the papal archives.

Have you somewhere to go?

Yes.

Sister, is there nothing we can do?

Nothing.

From here, you will
go to the portress's room.

She will give you further instructions.

You may leave your keys on my desk.

And in conclusion, the dowry
your father gave when you entered.

You must take it.

Go through here to room 12.

Everything is ready.

Press the button when you
are finished, and I will open.