Original subtitles

Downloaded from YTS.MX

Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX

The film we are proud to present was awarded

the International Grand Prize for best actor at the Venice Biennale

the best film award by the Belgium cinematographic press

and the Grand Prize of French Cinema

Chatillon's this way, but we're not going.

Hello there.

- What are you looking for? - I am the new priest.

- I am the new priest! - There is no priest here.

Haven't been one in a while, and that's not about to change!

What is happening here? Everything's shut down.

They're all cursed!

Where does Monsieur Bénier live?

Monsieur Bénier!

They're all cursed!

What is it?

- Is this Monsieur Bénier's house? - What do you want?

Tell your master Monsieur de Paul is here.

I don't know any Monsieur de Paul.

I told you not to open the door for anyone!

You idiot! No one, I said!

These idiots could let the plague into my house!

Be on your way. We don't know any Monsieur de Paul.

I am the new priest. Monsieur Bénier is expecting me.

I told you I won't open the door.

I am Monsieur de Paul. Go tell your master.

He says he's a priest!

Open the spy hole.

Pray forgive me, Monsieur de Paul. I forgot your name.

I was expecting you.

- Did you just arrive? - I took the afternoon coach.

You came straight away, didn't you?

You didn't talk to anyone in the village, did you?

No. Why?

Good. Open the door.

Go on!

Welcome, Monsieur de Paul.

- Did you have a good trip? - Not too bad. Except for a few pirates.

Do I scare them?

Be more discreet.

We are all going to die, dear Anne.

I hope we still have some time. And my husband is right here!

He'll probably be the first to go, my dear!

The plague isn't such a plague after all.

The plague? Who's been contaminated?

A lady from the old part of town.

We walled her into her house.

When she dies, we'll just set it on fire.

God willing, we'll still be able to enjoy a few joyous days.

Have some chicken!

- How long has she been locked in? - Three days.

Patience is the key here. Some people take up to 10 days to die!

You should try the cup-and-ball. It's a great pastime.

- We have to do something. - We have to drink, eat and dance

and be merry. That's the only cure.

- Where does that woman live? - What woman?

- The plague victim. - Why?

- I wish to visit her. - This is nonsense.

Why expose yourself to contamination?

Your quarters are ready for you. You must be tired. Have some rest.

I will not stay here. I am the priest of Chatillon

and thus I will stay at the presbytery.

You have obviously not seen that building, Monsieur de Paul.

Our priests gave up on it 10 years ago.

I shall stay there anyway. Please have my things brought to me.

- And direct me to that woman's house. - Enough joking around.

We shall be glad to have you here, but if you leave tonight,

I will not be able to have you back.

Excuse me, but that is my desire.

Go get my things.

Tell me where that sick woman lives.

I am your priest and I am asking you a question!

It's the small house with the fires.

Thank you.

My bag.

My hat.

Open up.

Excuse me, sir, but I must see that woman.

Thank you for your warm welcome.

What a boor!

I do apologize. He was recommended by a friend of mine.

Looks like he forgot something.

Listen to this! It is rather amusing.

"Resolutions towards my masters the poor."

Look! He is really going!

He's going to get stoned to death!

That crazy man is so funny!

If he's still round on Sunday, I'll go to mass!

He'll be gone by Sunday. Or he'll be dead.

Don't be afraid, child.

Carpenter, I need a coffin.

Do you hear me? I need you to make a coffin.

Open up!

I am your priest!

You'll open up if you're not a coward!

Do not fear.

I hear you insisted on seeing me. Who are you?

I am the priest of Chatillon, sir.

- Touché! - My guard was down!

- There is no priest in Chatillon. - There's been one for an hour.

What do you want?

You are lord of this village, so I've come to pay my respects...

and to ask you to order the burial of this child's mother.

I appreciate your visit and I welcome you to Chatillon,

but I have better things to do. On guard!

The carpenter refuses to make her coffin,

and that woman needs a proper burial place.

- As lord of this village, your duty-- - My duty?! What duty?

Who do you think you are, teaching me lessons?

And what is this?

The plague victim's daughter.

She had been locked in with her.

Aren't you crazy?!

Get out! Get out at once or I'll have you thrown out!

Are you trying to kill us all?

What do you want?

- We need shelter. - This is my house!

It is mine too.

- What did you say? - This is my house.

Isn't this the presbytery? I am the priest of Chatillon.

There is no priest in Chatillon! There is no priest and no God!

Get out!

You'll find out about God some day;

as for the priest, I am right here.

Priest or not, I won't be taken for a fool.

Nobody likes that.

- Is the soup ready? - Don't touch it!

We don't want her to choke on that bread.

Wait up.

What do you eat it with?

Do you want me to gut you?!

Get out!

- You would kill over soup? - I would!

You wouldn't be the first!

The girl is hungry. She hasn't eaten in three days.

Put your blade away...

and get me a spoon.

God damn it!

Quit insulting the Lord's name in my presence.

He created you out of love.

The same way He created that girl.

You both are equally unhappy, that's why you'll share your soup with her.

Give her your spoon.

Thank you.

Take it easy. There'll be more.

You're the first Christian I've met in Chatillon!

Did you lose your leg during the war?

I spent 10 years on Bassompierre's side.

Then you are a brave man. We will get along.

- Are you courageous? - Courageous?

Look at this! I wouldn't look like this if I had run off!

Do you really believe it's the plague?

The plague?

What plague?

The girl is the plague victim's daughter.

I'll make her mother a coffin and I might need you tomorrow.

- No, I won't fall for that! - Death is death,

and you've risked your life many times.

Not like this. With weapons, maybe.

- But not like this. - What is your name?

La Fouille.

If I ever run into the Maréchal de Bassompierre,

I'll tell him about how you could fight 10 Spaniards

but that you feared illness like an old woman!

I can do this better than you.

What is that?

As you can see, I am still alive.

That woman did not have the plague,

yet you left her to die in the most awful way.

If I hadn't broken into her house last night,

this little girl would be dead too...

eaten by the dogs.

While praying for the deceased, I asked God to forgive you.

I am sure she is praying for you too.

What will you do with this child of God's?

She will need a home, a mother.

Who will take her in?

I am not talking to those who have everything

but to the woman who barely has enough for her own children.

May that one only move forward...

to take the child in.

The Lord will bless her,

He who was poor and alone.

I already have five at home.

Good.

She is yours.

Go.

Tomorrow is Sunday. The church will be ready

for mass at 8 am.

Hurry, you idiots!

Do you need a week to take me back?! Hurry!

Where's the doctor? What is he doing?

Be patient, father. He might have been called somewhere else.

My grandfather had his own live-in doctor and got the attention he needed.

Nowadays they want to be paid! Everybody wants to be paid!

In my day, being honest and serving one's lord was more important.

- What is he doing?! - Relax, dear uncle.

- He'll be right over. - Poor Louise.

You're not about to forget your stay in Chatillon!

Between my injury and the plague...

It was not the plague. The new priest buried that woman

- and he'll say mass tomorrow. - Don't you mention that priest!

- I'm injured because of him! - How can you say such a thing?

I know what I'm talking about.

Everything's been going wrong since he arrived.

I usually get people injured!

What took you so long, you stupid idiot?

- You left me here to die! - But sir--

You left for three hours!

I've been bleeding like a pig at the butcher's!

- I've searched the whole village, sir. - Quiet!

- But sir-- - Quiet, I said!

So you're leaving again--

What are you doing here?

They can't find the doctor, so I'll take care of you.

Get the hell out of here!

I want my sword! Bring me my sword!

You won't use your sword for a while, I'm afraid.

Do you think a few words in Latin will fix that?

Miss, I need some water and linens.

I might also need a scalpel.

Or a sharp dagger.

Don't you think I've waited long enough?

You're quite some priest--

You bury people, you heal wounds...

Where did you learn all that?

I was held as a slave for two years in Barbary.

I lived with a doctor.

I had gotten hurt in a fight on the boat,

so he treated my wounds

and he taught me to do the same.

During a fight, you said? Were you in combat?

What was your weapon, a rosary?

I took the sword of a wounded man.

Did God say it was okay to kill people?

He never said to submit to unfair punishment.

I like you! If all priests were like you, I'd attend mass.

Sunday might be a little early, but I want to see you there in two weeks.

Bring us something to drink.

I could use some wine, indeed. I'm tired.

I haven't eaten since yesterday.

No wine for you, though.

No wine for me?

Nobody's ever used that tone with me!

Duty to the lord...

It used to be true, when lords still had their rights.

Nowadays, peasants are nothing but a bunch of lazy idiots!

All they do is not pay the taxes they owe me!

- They are dirt poor. - Me too!

- No. - Just a drop.

- A tiny drop. - No.

Thank you.

You are not as poor as they are, so you owe them everything.

If you made the law, the world would be something else.

Yes, it would be quite something else.

That girl you kicked out yesterday, do you know who took her in,

- who is sharing her bread with her? - I don't.

The poorest woman in the village.

She already has five children to feed.

The rich of Chatillon are feeling cozy at home,

and to them, the world is in perfect order.

But that poor woman took that extra burden.

She'll stay up later at night and she'll wake up just a bit earlier in the morning.

But she is richer than you.

Of course, it all makes sense coming from your mouth!

The world is as it is.

It is as we created it, sir.

We'd never seen a lady at our house!

And I'm just standing here...

I'm sure you've had your share all day!

- Let me do it. - Mom!

You don't want to get that beautiful dress dirty.

Here.

What's been going on in Chatillon?

Hello, good woman!

Have the children emptied the cupboards yet?

I've come to bring more food.

So?

Sir, Madame la comtesse sends her apologies.

Madame la comtesse does not wish to see anyone.

Fine.

I apologize.

I am afraid Madame de Gondi isn't feeling well and won't be seeing you.

- Nothing serious, I hope? - No.

No, she has heard some upsetting news, that's all.

I don't wish to remind you about the reputation of our name,

but the Gondi should have enough influence

to find their own runaway!

An official complaint might have accelerated the search.

A complaint? Against Monsieur de Paul?

A complaint against my own confessor,

against my children's tutor?

Of course I'm complaining, but not to the police!

He's a priest, and we cannot find him!

We've been with the archbishop for half a century!

A priest says mass, and Monsieur de Paul must be saying mass somewhere!

His Grace has sent emissaries to all bishoprics in France.

Has he left any clues when he left?

He wrote a note of apology. The tone was firm yet tender.

He said he felt his duty was to renounce his position with us.

We also found some scrap paper in his room.

This is a list of resolutions he must have accidentally left behind.

- Admirable resolutions! - Of course,

but where have they led him?

In what kind of hole, with what kind of savages?

Give me a minute.

Madame, God allowed this fortunate encounter

so I could apologize properly.

This is no fortunate encounter. God has nothing to do with it.

I came on my own. I found out where you were and I've come to take you home.

Why did you abandon me?

I was appointed priest of this town and I have a duty towards these souls.

What about my soul?

You know how much I needed your guidance.

Who will soothe my pain?

God will provide.

What about my children's souls?

There are plenty of excellent men of faith in Paris, Madame.

You shall find another, more worthy confessor.

Excuse me.

These poor people

are waiting on the soup I give them every day.

They are hungry.

Hungry.

Monsieur de Paul!

Father... I am as hungry as they are.

I am waiting, just like them.

The Gospel tells us the good shepherd left his flock to save one soul.

One soul is not enough,

and these people are more miserable than you are.

I am aware that one single woman

is too little for you.

12,000 souls live on my land. They are yours.

Since you have time in the morning, you'll help me with the soup.

Why? Is Monsieur de Paul not staying with us?

I believe so.

"Sir Philippe-Emmanuel de Gondi, count of Joigny,

marquis of the Hyeres Islands, lieutenant of the Eastern Seas,

general of the French galleys,

and the grand Francoise Marguerite de Silly,

baroness of Montmirail and our lord's wife,

hereby agree to pay Monsieur de Paul,

priest at the diocese and holding a degree in canon law,

45,000 livres

in the form of land and annuity

which profits shall be used to clothe and feed

six priests who shall travel through villages

to preach and instruct poor countrymen."

Poor and abandoned countrymen.

"Poor and abandoned countrymen."

This is what was read to you, sir.

I know.

I am verifying the number.

This money belongs to the poor and I'm responsible for it.

They're covering him in gold, and he's verifying the number.

What a strange fellow.

Are you happy now?

I will be happy when I have done something.

- You have all powers now. - God has all powers.

I will try and accomplish a little if He lets me.

Will you have supper with us?

The duchesse of Chevreuse is interested in your project.

She shall have dinner with us.

- I am not used to the world. - You'll have to get used to it.

You asked the world to help you,

so you can't just ignore it anymore.

I will see you later. I'm counting on it.

Are you waiting for someone?

Yes, I am waiting for Monsieur de Paul.

I am the curate of Montmirail.

You have an accent. Where are you from?

- From the Landes. - What part?

Dax.

I knew a little boy from Dax.

He was a little shy and awkward like you.

That boy was not looking to impose himself in the world.

What did you do there?

My parents are really poor.

- I was tending the sheep. - Why be ashamed?

The boy I was telling you about used to tend the pigs.

Listen, go back to Montmirail.

Don't pay your respects to Madame.

I will tell her you came by.

Once you're there, go visit the poor.

Even if there is only one.

Go visit him personally.

Don't let anyone come between you two.

Believe me, you need your poor.

At least as much as he needs you.

- Monsieur de Paul. - What is it?

The duchesse of Chevreuse has just arrived and she wishes to see you.

I'll be right there.

Farewell, my boy. We shall see each other again.

I shall show my face to the duchesse of Chevreuse.

One of the great ladies in France wishes to see me.

You go see your poor.

At least we won't both be wasting our time.

Come closer, Monsieur de Paul.

I asked to see you because I've heard a lot about you.

From women, mind you.

Madame de Gondi started a new trend.

All the great ladies at court only swear by you.

That's a good thing.

In the meantime, they're not plotting to have me assassinated.

I thought maybe you could be even more helpful.

I am afraid his Grace might overestimate my talents.

I am nothing but a local priest.

Not everybody can be well born.

What's important is what we do next.

Will you serve us, sir?

Those missions you organized are a very smart thing.

Being a guide to humankind

makes us blind to charity sometimes.

You little brutes!

These beautiful little creatures

give me respite from men,

yet they're the cruelest!

They make me bleed every day.

- What were we talking about? - Charity.

It is your friend.

I would probably like it too if those plotting against France

didn't steal all my time.

I don't have the luxury of thinking about charity.

But I can help you.

What you are doing on a small scale,

can you do it bigger?

You belong to the Gondi.

Monsieur de Gondi is general of the galleys.

I am thinking of creating a new position for you:

chaplain to the King's galleys.

Your Grace...

Good news has a strange effect on you, Monsieur de Paul.

You seem confused.

I'm scared, your Grace.

- I cannot accept. - Scared of what?

You are remarkably organized and you never fail.

Are you afraid you might not be good enough for the job?

No, your Grace.

With God's help, I feel like I can accomplish any task at hand,

with patience and humility.

Then what are you scared of?

Speak!

Of what you may call my success.

I am nothing but the son of peasants.

I wanted to become a priest to help save people poorer than me,

and ever since the important people of this world started noticing me...

ever since they allowed me to do big things, as they say...

the essential things seem to escape me.

- The essential things? - Yes, your Grace.

Since I've returned to Paris,

you've been telling me I've done a lot.

I've seen a lot of important people,

I've talked to them a lot

to convince them to give some of their time and money for the poor...

but I haven't called a poor person by their name.

I don't know the face

or the name of a single poor person.

That is what scares me.

I think I might be making a mistake.

Everyone of us has a part to play on this earth,

according to what's been given to us.

Do you think I know any names?

Do you think I have the luxury of looking at people's faces?

All I do is call an unknown officer I don't even look at

to give him orders for another province.

There, an army of faceless unknowns

get on their way to face their destiny,

or to cut an unknown head off.

Only my king and France have faces and names I recognize!

I am not asking what your feelings or preferences are, Monsieur de Paul.

I hereby appoint you chaplain to the King's galleys

because his majesty and France need you.

- We're headed to a good start. - We have many good galleys,

but with the general on board, the Real is bound to win today!

Good man! I am sure Monsieur de Paul is praying for us.

Your grace.

- What is it? - A great invention.

The top opens like so, and releases a nice scent.

- Scent? - I advise you to keep it.

After a half hour of hard work,

the smell gets intolerable.

You are a man of faith, Monsieur de Paul.

Here you are, chaplain to the galleys, and your galley slaves stink so much,

you will appreciate the sweet smell.

Here is how you use it.

Strong winds!

One would think that, after such an effort, these men would get weaker.

Not at all!

After a certain point, men go past the exhaustion.

They're catching up to us!

Isn't this fascinating?

It is indeed, sir. It's fascinating.

Faster!

- That's impossible! - No, sir. You'll see.

Pull out the whips!

This might hurt your Christian sensitivity, dear chaplain,

but the whip is absolutely necessary.

At the height of their effort,

it is a stimulant the men sometimes request.

Muzzle!

The muzzle is a leather device we insert into their mouths

- to prevent them from screaming. - Sir! Look!

I think the Real will honor your presence!

Wonderful!

I could increase the rhythm, but that won't be necessary.

- We don't want to lose any men. - Heart problems.

- Shall I stop him? - Leave him. It is his good will.

He'll die from exhaustion.

Maybe it is God's will, and we have no right to interfere.

I shall give...

from this day forward...

my belongings...

consisting of 900 livres...

as well as 40 acres of land...

inherited from my father...

to my brothers and my sister Marie's older son.

I renounce the profits made by the abbeys and priories

of Saint-Léonard-de-Chaume...

and the Equities...

as well as my responsibilities of priest in Clichy...

and to all related advantages and privileges.

I wish to keep...

no sign of power or fortune...

so as to better love and serve the poor...

my brothers...

and masters.

That will be four soles a week. That includes housekeeping.

You'll like it here.

A priest used to live here.

He left the crucifix.

It is nothing luxurious, but the bed is clean.

And this is a reputable house.

Don't you like it? Is it too expensive?

Maybe it is not good enough for your taste.

No, it is actually too good.

Thank you.

Do you know if there are any rooms for rent?

Try upstairs.

My milk ran out, so he's hungry.

Would you like some bread?

I have too much.

It is not a palace, but it's good enough to sleep.

The person before you never paid.

So you need to pay upfront. It's three soles a week.

You're splurging, for a week.

My daughter takes care of the housekeeping.

He's got money!

Go bring him some water.

Go now!

And smile!

There's some water.

Thank you.

What is it?

Lambert doesn't live here anymore?

No. I do.

What do you want?

I used to sleep on his floor when I didn't know where else to go.

Stay.

Where did you sleep?

He would let me borrow a cover.

Here.

You must have caught a cold.

I've been coughing up blood since I was born.

Don't you have anywhere else to go?

No.

How do you make a living?

I am no beggar.

I am a worker.

I paint fans.

But my coughing has turned off all my bosses.

I spit on their fans, and the ladies don't like that.

You tramp!

Don't worry.

The guy on the first floor just got home.

He's been beating his wife ever since he got laid off.

- What are we to do? - Just sleep.

Just try to sleep.

The neighbors know...

the children will try and fall asleep in the hallway.

Husband and wife will end up making up.

They both drink a lot.

See?

It's going to be quiet again.

Well, almost.

That'll be one more child to share the joys of this world with them.

That's the crazy lady from the third floor.

She does that every 15 minutes.

But you get used to it. You'll see.

What's that?

The weaver.

He's got 10 kids and his parents with him.

He gets one sole an hour,

so he works at night too.

Men of faith don't suspect such things, do they?

I'm sure God Himself doesn't.

The poor don't sleep at night.

They work. They insult each other.

They fight.

They cough.

They make more poor people.

You can't let that get to you.

You have to do like everybody else and not care.

The rich can afford to care.

The poor have had enough.

Every man for himself.

Forgive me, God.

I didn't know.

I didn't know.

I told her it's a mortal sin.

She said it was only a venial sin.

But I'm sure it's a mortal sin!

She didn't come to mass yesterday.

The flowers for the Virgin Mary were all wilted!

She picked them the night before so she wouldn't have to get up early.

She wants to serve the Lord, but she also wants to sleep in late.

So you noticed? I told the priest the flowers were wilted.

God will do justice.

Portail.

Portail!

Monsieur Vincent.

- Come with me. - But, sir--

Come quick. I need you.

What do I do about confession?

Leave it.

I learned something awful last night.

I realized that, before saving their souls,

we need to allow the poor

to live a life of awareness.

To have a conscience.

Let's go!

So what have you been doing?

- Begging? - Yes.

I used to live with the children,

but my son got married and his wife claims I eat too much.

That's not true. I don't eat too much.

You told me already.

You don't have that many teeth left, but that doesn't seem to stop you.

Soup doesn't take much.

Well, you'll get soup today.

And tomorrow too.

But you know, soup is expensive, and we need a lot every day.

We, too, are poor.

But you keep coming back, and I don't know what to do with you.

I don't know what to do with myself either.

Okay, you can stay.

But you'll cause our ruin!

- With you, it's different! - It's fate!

You've been pushing your fate!

And fate is not everything!

The little birds get food every day, but they still have to look for it!

You're a strong guy! You could hold a shovel!

- I can't find a job! - I'll find you one!

Come back tomorrow, I'll get you hired.

Get some bread.

But this is the last time you swindle God!

Tomorrow's bread will be earned!

They're hungry. I'm not asking for anything for myself.

Four.

Okay, you can come every day.

Give me a minute.

Monsieur Vincent, we're out of bread.

- Cut up some more. - But--

Then buy some more.

Really? Already?

Monsieur Vincent, we have some people for you.

- Who sends them? - The hospital can't do anything.

They are not sick.

- But they are sick. - From what?

Misery.

Mother Superior said that if you didn't want them, we'd have to throw them out.

Tell her I'll keep them.

- What will we give them? - Soup and bread.

- Bread? - Okay, soup.

And a little prayer, after they've eaten.

- Father... - What do you want?

- We ran out of wood. - What do you do, eat it?

I was careful and followed your instructions.

Let's start with prayer. That, we have.

I'll see about the rest.

Come in!

Monsieur Vincent is here for you.

Bring him in.

I apologize, sir.

What else do you want?!

- I ran out of wood. - That doesn't make sense.

- Are you cooking those poor?! - I've been cautious!

Some important people have helped me get you a room here

and I was made to provide for your wood.

I don't even want to know who visits you in that room.

You are so weak and credulous!

Those people would spend the whole day there if they could!

They are weak, old and sick!

I am the regional hospital accountant.

That is an important office!

I have set resources that I can't possibly increase!

I cannot afford your generosity and frivolity!

I don't have any more wood either.

Monsieur Vincent...

you are a pleasant man.

If you are cold, come warm up at my place.

I am always happy to chat with you.

Thank you, sir.

Money...

I need money.

Without money, nothing can happen.

Madame! You came right away!

- I am not one to make you wait. - You are right.

This is the money you asked for.

Thank you.

That will buy a lot of bread.

We couldn't give them anything this morning.

Hurry up! Get some bread!

- And wood! - And wood.

Is money the only thing I can give you?

You are such a lady, what else could you possibly give me?

You are carrying the weight of your fortune and your name...

just as they are carrying the weight of their misery.

Excuse me, I need these linens to cover their wounds.

A maid would cost money I could use for bread,

and I don't want to deprive them.

You may leave now.

Madame...

you can't possibly do this every day.

I can. And others will, too.

This is our first meeting,

and we wish to thank you first and foremost, Monsieur Vincent.

I should thank you, ladies.

Without you, I was lost.

You have come down from the heavens

to help my poor

like angels carrying jam, soup, warm clothing and good words.

I was dreadfully scared the first time!

I had always given them a coin or two after church,

- but I had never talked to them. - I thought they'd insult me!

But not at all. They are very polite.

- They always thank me. - Not all of them.

I demand a "thank you."

Just like with my dog: you want sugar, show your paw.

Poor people are quite sensitive.

You have to be rather creative at times to give without upsetting them.

That, you can teach us. We'll be proud to learn.

Today, though, we should talk about practical issues.

First of all, it's only the 12 of us

and there are lots of poor people.

Should we take in more ladies?

This is what I think:

we have set a trend everybody's trying to copy.

No, I think we should stay amongst ourselves.

I think we should take in a few people.

I spoke with Madame de Guéméné yesterday--

Madame de Guéméné? With the luxury she lives in?

All she'll want to do is give more than us, just to snub us!

The poor might actually like that.

It's not just about the poor. It's about us too!

She's a friend of mine, but Madame de Guéméné is not a pleasant person.

So yesterday, this woman comes up to me in a shop.

She said she's heard I created a charity

and so forth...

She is filthy rich and she was ready to contribute 10,000 ecus to be a member.

So I told her, "Madame, there is still a world in France

where money alone does not open doors."

What do you think, Monsieur Vincent?

I'm thinking...

about the 10,000 ecus.

I have a question.

I don't know what you wear when you go to the poor.

I personally wear a simple grey dress.

I borrow one of my daughter's dresses.

It's so much fun to dress up!

You know what I was thinking? We could have a special dress made.

Some kind of uniform we would all design.

I just saw my draper. He showed me some exquisite linen.

It is grey, with some blue undertones. Come take a look!

- Excellent idea. - How amusing!

We'll have to make it simple, in black.

Grey is softer and not as prone to stains.

Excuse me, Father. Is anybody home?

- Who are you looking for? - Monsieur de Paul.

What do you want with him?

I'm a maid from Suresnes.

I've come to Paris

because I heard some ladies did charity work in hospitals.

- Is that true? - It is.

For the most part.

So I'm here because--

Excuse my audacity,

but I wanted to tell Monsieur Vincent something.

Tell him what?

The ladies are used to being served

and they might not know how to serve others.

I'm a milk maid, so I'm used to doing things they might not want to do.

So I thought I could offer my help.

I'm not asking for money. Food only.

I could do the bleedings, the enemas.

I could clean the wounds, make the beds, empty the chamber pots--

All the things they don't want to do.

If I'm going to be a maid,

I'd rather serve God's poor than my masters.

Am I being arrogant?

No, dear child.

Did you walk here?

- Did you eat this morning? - I left before dawn.

- It took me a while to find this place. - Go to the kitchen.

Tell them Monsieur Vincent is sending you. They'll feed you.

I'll see you later.

Do you think they'll take me in?

I have no doubt about it.

Thank you, Lord, for sending this simple girl.

She is simple, but she understood what I didn't.

The poor...

will help me save the poor.

That poor milk maid from Suresnes was Marguerite Nazeau.

She was the first servant to our poor.

The charity work those ladies had somewhat sugar-coated...

she did it, in her simplicity.

She worked hard, like a poor person.

Soon enough, others joined her:

Barbe Engibouste and Madeleine Drugeon.

Their lives were difficult.

They were exposed to bad jokes, and sometimes ill-treatment.

Everybody was against us!

People couldn't tolerate to see nuns on the street.

They thought their proper place was at the convent.

For our girls, the street was their convent.

Their cell was a simple room for rent.

They felt extremely lonely.

That is why I got the idea of bringing them together.

We needed a house

where they could feel at home, after a hard day of work.

His Grace Lebon, in his generosity,

has given us the priory and the Saint Lazare domain.

But the buildings are in ruins--

The hospital, the pharmacy,

the room where we host the poor during the day.

And we need to take care of the demented, too.

So I need someone who will supervise my girls.

Why me?

Because it is not enough to do a little good.

You have to take on more,

you have to take on a little more every day.

What you're asking of me is rather heavy.

I'm doing as much as I can.

These people are frightening.

I'm scared of the poor.

Yes...

they're terrifying, aren't they?

As terrifying as God's justice they know is without pity.

We can afford to hide behind our decent clothes and our well-fed bodies.

But look at these awful rags,

the illness...

the misery, the bones,

the crazy look in their eyes.

They are mine, though.

They can be tough and unfair...

but we have to serve them and love them...

like we would our masters.

I am scared.

I am weak, hesitant and gauche.

I have none of the qualities a supervisor needs.

You are my first soul. The first person who understood me.

Mademoiselle de Marillac, you will be strong, firm and efficient.

- I need you to. - Father! Father!

We can't do it anymore! There's only the four of us!

They're bringing in a dying man and no one will give up their spot.

I'll be right there. Come with me.

Come see how much I need you.

Why him? Why not us?

- My legs are wounded too! - I only got up to come here!

- But I was on bed rest! - The old should go first!

You're almost dead! Let the young go first!

What about me? Will you let me go?

- So? - We have no bed for him.

Who's feeling better here?

Who can give their bed to a sicker man?

You?

There's a spot.

Have the body taken out.

What about me?

I've been waiting here for three days,

waiting for him to croak.

This is my spot.

He told me before he died!

I want to die in bed.

- I want to die in a bed. - They're here?

I've got to go.

I'll be back.

My dear, I have to go. Make sure things go smoothly.

I want to die in a bed.

- I want to die in a bed. - What about me?!

I've been waiting longer than you!

Stop it! There is no fighting in here!

I'll call for Monsieur Vincent.

Madame, please make them stop. We can't do it.

They demand things, they insult us, they spit on us!

- How could I possibly love them?! - Go back to bed!

- I'll call for Monsieur Vincent! - There's not enough beds!

- Get some more! - You can't treat the poor like this!

The poor are not animals.

I can't do it!

I can't!

Very well, I'll do what I have to do.

This is a copy of the eviction form.

I have 12,000 sick in Saint Lazare,

I serve 2,000 soups a day.

- Where will these people go? - I am only the messenger.

My job was to give you the eviction form.

Sir, they've turned against us!

They fought over the dead man!

They insulted your name. I can't do it. I can't, sir.

You should go, Monsieur Portail. I'll be right there.

Well, I'll manage alone, my dear.

You are trembling.

I'll walk you to your carriage.

- Who were those men? - I thought Saint Lazare was too small,

and they're evicting me from Saint Lazare. Must be fate.

Where will you go with these poor people?

I am responsible for them. I'll find them shelter somewhere else.

I am used to this.

We'll find an even less suitable shelter...

These are the refugees from Lorraine.

I hear that region has been reduced to ashes.

There are 2,000 of them coming to Paris.

What misery...

what misery.

2,000 more for me.

For us.

I apologize for being so weak.

I'm staying.

Monsieur Vincent, what you accomplished is admirable.

The help you gave those refugees was a blessing.

Where do you get the bread and the clothing?

The finance ministry would like to know what kind of magic tricks you do.

They are given to us, Monsieur Chancellor.

How lucky you are!

The ministry is not given anything!

There is no tax money, the people are crying for mercy.

We've supposedly taken everything from them,

but we're still broke!

The poor are multiplying

and they've become a real threat.

Beggars everywhere!

And nowadays, if you don't give them anything...

they threaten you.

They're hungry.

They're hungry...

With my job, I have other kinds of hunger to appease!

France is hungry...

for safety... for order.

I've requested your presence here because I have some good news.

After your life-long dedication to them,

you'll be happy to hear that, in two days, there will be no more poor people!

How?

It's very simple. They're under arrest.

But poverty is not a crime.

I am afraid it very surely leads to it.

My job is to anticipate, and that's what I'm doing.

I have several premises-- la Pitié, le Refuge, la Savonnerie,

Bicétre, la Salpétrieren I'll just store them there.

The problem is that they'll have to be fed.

We'll manage.

Public health comes first!

Would you like to be in charge of the general hospital I am founding?

The poor are people. They deserve to be free.

Free to bother people on the street? To starve?

I'm feeding them, I'm giving them shelter. What more would they want?

Charity means helping them

keep their humanity.

Charity? You invented charity!

It used to be a quality. It was good enough

for old church ladies.

We chatted about it, we cried a little,

we pulled out a coin, and everybody was happy.

You, however, blew things out of proportion!

You've put in so much effort

that the government is now responsible for your charity!

We were busy enough with finances, the Protestants,

the navy, international issues and war.

Do you think we need your charity business on top of everything else?!

Before your time, there were poor people,

but they didn't bother honest people.

Now they're everywhere!

It almost seems like you're pulling them out of your hat!

Do we have the right to hold those things against him?

Do we have the right to organize this meeting against him?

This is not against him. We just want to express our opinion.

What if we gave more time,

more time and more money--

We give whatever we can.

Nothing would be enough.

It used to be the elderly, and that's sad.

So he founded an association.

Then it was the former prostitutes, the galley slaves, the prisoners... fine.

We're already struggling with the hospitals. We do as much as we can.

And now he's come up with the refugees.

They had to come to Paris, since their region has been turned to ashes.

I'm sure there are charitable people where they live.

Why not invite negroes over, too?

- He did mention it, Madame. - What?

He told me once that he felt for those barbaric people in our colonies

and that he wished to send missionaries there.

To negroes?

See, he has to be stopped

before he takes us too far.

- It's cold tonight! - Can't wait to be home.

Look, there's another one.

Happens every day now. They come to Paris to have a good time.

- Don't be afraid. - The fruits of their sins end up here.

- This one's dead. - At least he won't be unhappy.

It's so cold out, it's no surprise.

- See you tomorrow! - Tomorrow!

- What were you going to do? - I am alone, I don't work.

- I don't know who his father is. - God created him.

He is your son. One day, he'll be a man who won't abandon you.

Show him to me.

You have a beautiful child.

- Be brave. - I can't.

I can't.

I'd rather not see him die.

Come back!

I'm telling you to come back!

So you found one?

He's still alive?

They usually survive longer in the summer.

The other one's dead.

He's been there for two hours.

He cried for a little while,

then he stopped.

- And you didn't move? - I don't have any legs.

I walk on my hands,

so holding babies is hard.

Then what would I do with them? People don't care.

They're cold, so they just walk by to get their soup.

Do many babies get dropped in that box?

Three, four a day.

Half of them die.

The other half is no luckier.

They get sold to beggars like me who maim them.

A baby is worth nothing,

but an infirm can bring in lots of money.

Those women who abandon them know that?

They're not the worst.

They hope the baby can survive.

As for the others, they just drop them in the river.

Such is life.

Life as God made it.

All that's not supposed to survive

has to die.

Monsieur Vincent,

we have spoken our minds

with our deepest feeling of charity.

And with common sense.

Women know what is and what is not possible.

Among the weakness and misery, God has given them

a kingdom to run, but also that humble knowledge.

And men wouldn't make so many mistakes if they listened to them.

Madame...

I didn't mean what I said, sir. Please forgive me.

No, I agree, Madame Groussault.

I am glad I sometimes lack some common sense.

Common sense and folly lead us

to as many sins.

They're just different sins.

We are waiting for your answer.

What is this?

My answer.

You think I do too much?

I think I'm not doing enough.

I just saved this child,

but three or four innocent children die

every night on church steps.

Maybe God wants them to die.

They are children of sin.

When God wants someone to die to pay for sin...

He sends His son.

God never wanted a single innocent child to die to pay for sin.

It is the cowardly, the selfish and the vicious who accept that idea.

Monsieur Vincent, I respect you,

but I won't follow you blindly.

I hate sin and vice,

and as much as you love charity, I won't love these children.

I hate this child born from sin and vice.

God is listening to you, Madame.

God cannot possibly love him.

I won't allow you to be the judge of that!

I know

that God is asking me to save this innocent child

before anyone else.

I will go out tomorrow and every night.

I will put more on this table!

You will watch them fight

and ask you to let them live.

We'll see if you let them die.

Monsieur Vincent... we told you we have too much on our hands.

I know you won't listen to us because we lead a rich and idle life.

But these girls work day and night

and they'll tell you they can't do any more.

If God asks them to, they will do more.

We are trying to talk reasonably.

I am the one who started that trend!

I've told you not to go too fast,

but tonight, I won't be saying that.

I'm afraid I've gone too slow.

Monsieur Vincent, there are institutions that collect these children.

They pay nurses to feed them. Don't you know that?

I don't know what they do for children,

but I know that if I hadn't been there tonight,

this child would be lying in a box in front of the church.

He would be dead by now.

We have enough enemies, Monsieur Vincent.

Priests and judges are in charge of that work,

and if we start doing their work, they will hate us too.

Really?

When I appear in front of my only judge,

do you think I'll tell Him, "I witnessed crimes

but I didn't want to interfere

and get in trouble with the local institutions

and the judges who allow those crimes"?

You'll do as you wish.

But I know

that none of these women will stain their hands

taking care of these miserable children

and touch their own children later.

Don't ask for more, Monsieur Vincent.

Don't ask for too much.

What you want to do here...

is too repugnant.

So are you.

No one will look at me.

Mademoiselle de Marillac.

I am ashamed.

I am ashamed, but they do disgust me.

- Madeleine... - Sin is ugly.

It's too ugly.

You too?

I'll never make it.

I was a fool to believe

I could move your souls,

that I could let you out of your repulsive solitude.

I'm begging you...

at least look at me.

Grant me at least...

one look.

Don't leave me to my loneliness.

I will never make it.

I will never make it.

Monsieur Vincent will be sorry he couldn't be here to welcome you.

His position at the moral council

where he was appointed by his Majesty kept him busy today.

His Holiness the Pope very much admires the works of your superior.

He said to me, "Graziani, before you leave France,

go visit Saint Lazare and tell me how it is,

since I will never have the chance to go."

These are the elderly we support...

after they are too weak to work.

Monsieur Nacquart died in Madagascar.

We named our foreign missions office after him.

Who was Marguerite Nazeau? I've never heard of her.

She was our first daughter of charity.

She died while caring for plague victims.

And Louise de Marillac

was the first supervisor to the daughters of charity, is that right?

Absolutely, sir.

We don't have enough room.

We had to host a few of our abandoned children over here.

I think you've had to face many uneasy feelings. It must have been hard.

You are right.

But with time and Monsieur Vincent's will,

we managed to do everything. Everything.

Similar institutions now exist in Italy

and in most nations in Europe and around the world.

What will people say in the future when they learn

that a single man had the desire

to create what seems so normal and so just today?

Your Grace, Monsieur Vincent should be here soon.

I will wait.

He's the Reverend Father Philippe-Emmanuel de Gondi.

When the countess passed away, he joined the order.

Our congregation owes him so much.

Are you feeling better, Monsieur Vincent?

Your Majesty is too good.

Please forgive my poor state.

Rest with me just a little bit longer.

You can leave us now.

You're doing too much.

We are old now.

One is old when one wants to be old,

- when there is time to be old. - You have to take the time.

It's good to be done.

I have done so little.

Sometimes I wonder

if you're not giving in to false modesty

when talking about yourself.

I have many horrible flaws--

Monstrous flaws for which I am begging God to forgive me--

But false modesty...

But I'll reflect on that, since you're mentioning it.

You know you've done a lot.

Very few will be able to show as much work as you did

on Judgment Day.

I did sleep.

I slept so much.

I had to be old

to realize one could live on four hours of sleep a night.

I was a coward quite often.

I gave in...

and I closed my eyes so I could forget about misery.

What about us?

We thought of our own pleasure,

of our lust for good things.

Without you, our eyes would still be closed.

I wanted everything.

And I got everything--

Gold, power...

and love.

Everything a little princess could dream of--

The most beautiful kingdom in the world,

the most beautiful love,

for whom she could have lost her kingdom,

the most beautiful diamonds.

But it seems that between the greedy little girl

and the old powerful queen dreaming aloud with you...

there has only been some long, empty dream.

I haven't done anything.

Tell me.

You've given your whole life...

you've given up happiness and power forever...

you've built more than useless palaces...

more than vain glory.

Do you also feel, now that death is near,

that you're leaving nothing but an empty hole behind?

Yes, Madame.

I haven't accomplished anything.

What is one supposed to do in life, then,

to accomplish something?

More.

We are so neglecting.

They're expecting me at Saint Lazare. The poor are waiting.

Does Your Majesty allow me to go?

Go, Monsieur Vincent.

Tell them the Queen of France is asking for forgiveness

for stealing this moment spent with you.

Stop. Stop.

Is he sick?

Hunger...

will always exist.

- Help me. - Let me do it. You can't possibly.

Of course I can. One always can.

See, I told you.

You are too careless!

- It's okay. - Careless.

Stay around, Portail,

and help that poor fellow to bed.

You, too, should go to bed.

I haven't finished my day.

I am not feeling well.

I can't see anyone.

His Grace Graziani is here to see you.

That is such an honor.

Throw yourself at his feet

and beg for his forgiveness.

I think that I have to wait

for another visitor tonight.

A more important visitor.

Tell him I can't.

Leave me now.

- Can I ask the doctor-- - No.

No one.

Yes.

Yes, I will see someone.

Jeanne. You know, the new girl

who's helping the poor for the first time.

Send her in.

Sir, that is not important. Anyone could train her.

At the point I'm at now,

one knows what is important and what is not.

Send her in

and thank everybody else.

My God...

will You finally allow me to see You?

Will You finally call me to my rest?

Do You think I've earned my rest?

I've done so little.

I am tired, it's true.

Who is it?

- It's Jeanne, sir. - Come over here.

Jeanne...

I asked to see you.

I know you are good and brave.

You'll tend to the poor for the first time tomorrow.

Yes, sir.

I wasn't always able to talk to all the girls

who were tending to the poor for the first time.

We can't always do what we want.

But with you,

the youngest, the latest girl,

I had to do it.

It is important.

Always remember...

remember everything.

Yes, sir.

You will soon realize

charity is a heavy load to carry.

It is heavier than a bucket of soup and a basket of bread.

But you will always keep your tenderness

and your smile.

It is not hard to serve soup and bread.

Even the rich can do that.

But you are a servant to the poor...

a daughter of charity...

always smiling, always in a good mood.

They are your masters.

Touchy and demanding masters, as you'll see.

The uglier and the dirtier they are,

the more unfair and vulgar they are,

the more love you'll have to give.

Only because of your love, and your love only,

will the poor forgive you for the bread you're giving them.

THE END