1425 The middle of summer
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,
Hail, Mary.
Saint John, my patron saint.
Pray for us. Pray for us.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.
Amen.
Our father who art in heaven,
your name is so far from being hallowed
and your reign from coming.
Our father
who art in the kingdom of heaven,
your reign is so far
from coming to the kingdom of France.
Our father who art in heaven,
your reign is so far
from coming
to the kingdom of the earth.
Oh my God,
if only we could see
the advent
of your reign.
If only we could see
the sunrise
of your reign.
But there is nothing there is never anything
You sent us your son,
whom you loved so much.
Your son came here,
suffered so much and then died.
And there is nothing, there is never anything.
If only we could see the dawn
of the first day of your reign.
And you sent us your saints.
And there is nothing, there is never anything.
Years have passed, so many years
that I can no longer count them.
Centuries of years have passed,
fourteen centuries of Christianity.
Yet there is nothing, there is never anything.
And what reigns on the face of the earth
is nothing, nothing but perdition,
Yet there is nothing, there is never anything.
My God, my God,
we shall be so good. We shall be so docile.
We shall be so obedient. We shall be so faithful.
My God, my God,
we are your children.
We are your children.
My God, my God,
what has been made of your people?
Madam shepherdess, we're hungry!
Madam shep'dess, we're hungry!
Madam shep'dess, we're very hungry!
I have bread!
Here we are! A big loaf!
A big loaf! Bread!
I have bread!
Why do you do that?
The English will never take
The tower of St Nick
The English will never take
The tower of St Nicolas
I'm scared!
Hello, Jeannette.
Hello, Hauviette.
I know why you want to see Madam Gervaise.
No one has guessed.
Not mother, my sister or Mengette.
I know why you want to see Madam Gervaise.
You must be very unhappy.
I'm unhappy when it's my turn to be.
It isn't always.
But I see things clearly.
It's about the distress you feel
in the depths of your soul.
The parishioners believe you're happy
as you're charitable, care for the sick,
comfort the afflicted and support those who suffer.
But I, Hauviette, know you are unhappy.
Because you're my friend.
Not only. I see things clearly.
Doing others good could do us good too.
But, instead, everything hurts you.
Nothing calms your hunger You're wasting away with sorrow.
It brings you down.
Your soul is sad.
Your uncle's fetching her.
True, my soul is sad.
So why pretend to be like everyone else?
I'm scared.
Sorrow, fear and distress form a family, a large one.
You seem to carry the earth's sorrow.
How can a soul not drown in sorrow?
Just now, I saw two little boys pass by.
They were on the path behind the birches and the hedge.
The older one led the other crying, "I'm hungry!"
I heard and called out. I couldn't leave my flock.
They hadn't seen me. They ran up like puppies.
The oldest had to be seven!
I gave them all my bread.
My midday meal.
My afternoon snack too.
They threw themselves on it like animals.
And their joy made me suffer.
Made me suffer even more.
Because all at once, in spite of myself,
I understood and it made me think.
I thought of all the starving people.
I thought of all those
who are unfortunate.
I thought of all those
who refuse to be comforted.
And I felt that I was going to cry
so I looked away.
because I didn't want to hurt them,
not those two in any case,
The Burgundians killed their father.
Their mother, alas,
their mother...
They managed to get away.
They don't know how. They never will.
The older one told me, after he had eaten,
before they left.
They're on the hungering road again.
What can a day's efforts do? What can our charity do?
I can't give passers-by all my father's bread.
Would it reduce the starving masses?
For a wounded man we nurse,
for a child that we feed,
tireless war makes hundreds more.
Every day, more wounded, sick and abandoned.
Our charity is of no use.
War is stronger than suffering.
Curse it and curse those who brought war to France.
Besides,
does my curse bother it? I could curse it all day long,
but pities would be besieged and armed men would cut down our wheat.
I should spin yarn instead.
Until someone comes along to kill the wolf at the door,
to ravage murder and to save our people.
Until someone kills war,
we're children playing in the meadows,
building dykes and dams with the mud of the Meuse.
The Meuse breaks through in the end.
So you sent for Madam Gervaise?
She isn't your friend.
She is at the convent.
She'll know why God allows such suffering and perdition.
And how did she enter the convent?
Madam Colette, a saint, passed by.
She converted Gervaise and three friends.
Her mother cried a lot at the time.
Madam Colette is too busy saving souls.
I told my uncle to find Madam Gervaise in Nancy
and bring her back.
Since she entered the convent, her mother weeps alone.
It hurts to see her.
I'm expecting her this morning.
When the soldiers came, her mother fled to the island with us.
But she had no one to carry her things.
I couldn't help her, my mother needed me.
And then, after that,
when she returned home.
all her belongings were gone,
stolen or burned by the soldiers.
Madam Gervaise chose a bad time to leave the world and save her soul.
Jeannette,
don't run to the convent to save your soul.
Think of others too.
We have to work for each other.
So you want us to make dykes with mud!
Jeannette,
don't get angry.
You're right. It would be good to kill war.
But that means waging war.
So you need a warlord.
And we can't go to war, can we?
We'll never be warlords.
And so, until war is killed, we have to work.
Each as best we can to save what is not yet spoiled.
Listen to me.
For over fifty years now, according to our elders,
soldiers have harvested at will.
For over fifty years now, soldiers have been crushing
or burning or stealing at will our ripe crops.
And the very least they do is trample the crops with their horses.
And after all that time, every year in autumn,
the good workers, your father, mine, your two big brothers,
our friends' fathers, always the same,
the same peasants, the same French peasants,
carefully till the same land with the same care
before God's eyes.
They should become soldiers too.
It's not hard, you receive fewer blows,
since you deal blows to others.
As soldiers, they would simply need
to harvest the grain without sowing it.
But good labourers love to work the land sown.
Every year, at the same time,
they do the same work with the same courage.
All year long, the same work
with the same patience.
That's what holds everything together.
They hold everything.
They save everything that can be saved.
Thanks to them, not everything is dead yet.
And the good Lord will end up
blessing their harvest.
For nearly fifty years, Hauviette,
labourers have prayed for the harvest.
For eight years, I've prayed for the harvest.
As a nun, Madam Gervaise must know why God ignores our prayers.
I'm a good Christian, a good French girl.
For the Lord to bless the harvest, we must first sow the grain.
That's why we do it every year.
When the land is ready and sown,
we pray soldiers won't come,
that the wheat will grow
and that the harvest will be rich.
It's all we can do, all we must do.
The rest is for the Lord, our master. We are in his hands.
He grants according to his will.
God grants us less.
Travellers bring only bad news.
The English hold Saint Michael's Mount.
We lack flour and wheat to sow.
It's up to God. The wheat is his.
When I work and pray, he grants as he sees fit.
We cannot ask him to justify himself.
Really,
you must be suffering to call God to account.
True, this perdition makes me suffer.
But I also feel unknown suffering beyond what you can imagine.
Will you tell Madam Gervaise?
I don't know.
See you later, beauty.
My God, what is happening?
For all time, men have lost their way.
But for forty years now, alas...
All we ever do is lose our way.
What is happening, my God, what is happening?
There were some who ran away.
There were some who got away.
But now, my God, who would answer
that some run away?
Who would reply that there are a few,
just a few at least.
who get away?
It was the earth, alas,
sometimes, it was the earth,
that prepared us for hell.
Today it's not even that.
It's no longer the earth that prepares us for hell.
Hell itself is spilling onto the earth.
What is happening, my God, what is happening?
What is happening that is new?
What have you done with your Christian people?
Could you have sent your son in vain?
And could Jesus have died
in vain?
He is there!
He is there like on the first!
He is there among us
like on the day of his death.
He is there among us eternally,
as much as on the first day.
Eternally, every day.
He is there among us, on every day of his eternity.
His body the same body,
hangs on the same cross.
His eyes, his same eyes.
quiver with the same tears.
His blood, his same blood,
bleeds from the same wounds.
His heart, his same heart,
bleeds with the same love.
The same sacrifice
sheds the same blood.
A parish has shone
with an eternal glow.
But all parishes shine eternally
for in every parish we can find
the body of Jesus Christ.
The same sacrifice crucifies the same body.
The same sacrifice sheds the same blood.
The same sacrifice immolates the same flesh.
The same sacrifice sheds the same blood.
The same sacrifice sacrifices
the same flesh and the same blood.
It's the same story exactly the same,
eternally the same,
that happened
at that time and in that land
and that happens every day, every day in all eternity.
in every parish of the Christian world.
in Lorraine or in France.
Every town shines beneath God's gaze,
every town is Christian in God's gaze,
Jews, you do not know your happiness.
Israel, Israel, you do not know your happiness.
But you too, Christian, you do not know your happiness.
Your present happiness, which is the same happiness.
Your eternal happiness.
Israel, Israel,
you do not know your greatness.
But you too, Christians,
you do not know your greatness.
Your present greatness,
which is the same greatness.
Your eternal greatness.
Every town is beloved
beneath God's gaze.
Every town is Christian.
Every town is sacred.
Every town belongs to God
beneath God's gaze.
Hello, Madam Gervaise.
Hello, my child.
May our Saviour save your soul.
Amen. Did my uncle say I wanted to see you?
Yes, child.
I felt you must be unhappy.
People here think you're happy, being a good Christian,
a good parishioner.
You're pious,
you've done your communion,
go to mass and vespers,
often go to church,
and kneel in the fields at the sound of the bells.
I know that is not enough.
I felt you were unhappy too and so came right away.
Do you know soldiers attack towns and pillage churches?
I know, child.
That they feed their horses on the altar?
I know, child.
Do you know,
and God forgive me for saying it,
that soldiers get drunk on wine from holy calices?
I know, child.
That they feast on the consecrated host?
I know, child.
And I know damnation is a rising tide drowning souls.
And I know your soul suffers when you see
the growing damnation of souls.
Do you know
that we who see all that and react with vain charity,
without killing war, are accomplices to it?
By letting the soldiers act, we torment bodies and damn souls.
I know, child, that you all damn souls.
And I know your soul suffers as an accomplice to universal evil.
You feel desperately cowardly.
But that is nothing.
Child, forgive the words I am about to say.
I'll go if you want
and never see you again.
I know your new suffering.
I know it seems worse than all suffering.
All those you love are cowards.
Your father is a coward, your mother,
your brother, your sister, your friends,
Mengette whom I saw, Hauviette who won't see me.
You know their cowardice
and complicity in the evil
of their making.
They cause souls to damn themselves
before God, creator of those souls.
You let them damn themselves
and thereby damn yourselves.
Now you know, you lie.
You lie to your father, mother.
brothers, sister and friends.
You pretend to love them, but cannot.
Yet you love them anyway.
You lie to yourself, believing you love them,
but you cannot.
Yet you love them anyway.
You don't love them, yet you do.
Everything is false now.
False filial and fraternal love.
False love, false friendships.
False feelings.
Your life is a lie and false.
You live with your family,
yet feel as alone and unhappy as a motherless child.
It's true that my soul is suffering.
I'm in such distress for the death of my soul hurts so.
The absence of those I loved has killed me.
I feel my human death is nigh.
God, let my human death come soon.
My God, I pity our human life
where those we love are forever absent.
Child, have pity on perdition.
Child, have pity on infernal life
where cursed and lost souls
know only torment.
Even God is absent from their eternity.
If I should be required, to save from the eternal flame
the tormented bodies of the damned.
to abandon my bod to the eternal flame,
then, God, give my body to the eternal flame.
If I should be required, to save from eternal absence
the souls of the damned
tormented by the absence,
to abandon my soul
to the eternal absence,
may my soul depart into the eternal absence.
Be silent, my sister, you have blasphemed.
God, in his infinite mercy,
has wanted human suffering
to serve the salvation of souls.
But he did not want
infernal suffering
to serve the salvation of souls.
He would not accept,
to save endangered souls,
that we should suffer here below.
That is why the master of us all,
the son of man, came to give his suffering,
gave all valid suffering to save our souls,
even to the valid suffering of temptation.
But he never went so far as to give
the vain suffering of sin.
Our Saviour was willing to give
all human suffering.
But he did not want to damn himself
for he knew that his infernal suffering
even his, would be of no use in saving us.
If I should be required,
to save from the eternal flame
the tormented bodies of the damned,
to give my body to human suffering,
then, my God, give my body to human suffering,
If I should be required, to save from eternal absence
the souls of the damned
tormented by the absence,
to give up my soul
to human suffering,
may it remain alive
within human suffering.
Be silent, my sister, you have blasphemed.
For if the son of man, in his final hour.
cried like a lost soul in anguish,
with a cry that rang as untrue as blasphemy,
it was because the Son of God knew,
the Son of God knew that the suffering
of the son of man cannot save the damned.
Tormented than them in his despair,
dying Jesus wept for the forsaken.
On feeling human death rise towards him,
unable to see his weeping, grieving mother
at the foot of the cross, or John or Magdalene,
dying Jesus wept over the death of Judas.
For he knew that the supreme sinner
had thrown away the blood money that he had received,
that the most forsaken of men was hanging himself,
and that the money went on the potter's field.
As the Son of God Jesus knew everything.
He knew that his beloved Judas
could not be saved by his sacrifice.
And that was when he knew infinite suffering.
That was then he felt infinite agony
and cried like a madman in anguish,
making Mary stagger as she stood.
And by the Father's mercy, he died his human death.
Why sister, should you want
to save from eternal hell the dead who are damned
and want to save them better
than Jesus the Saviour?
So, Madam Gervaise, whom must we save and how'?
Imitate and listen to Jesus.
He did not try to save the damned
because he knew that eternal hell is hopeless.
He knew that those souls were declared precluded.
He did not sow or want others to sow,
for he could multiply loaves.
We must not sow, for he can still multiply loaves.
He did not want Peter to fight armed soldiers.
We must not go to war.
Jesus preached, Jesus prayed, Jesus suffered.
We must imitate him as best we can.
We cannot preach divinely
or pray divinely,
and we'll never know infinite suffering.
But we must try with all our might
to speak and transmit the divine word as best we can.
We must try with all our might
to pray as best we can according to the divine word.
We must try with all our might to suffer as best we can,
to the very limit, without killing ourselves,
experiencing all human suffering.
That is our task here,
to save others bravely from damnation
and to save ourselves with them.
I do not believe I am a coward.
That is what we must do.
Be happy when the Lord, in his mercy,
accepts our work, prayers and suffering to save one soul.
Be happy when, in his infinite grace,
he chooses that soul among those we have loved.
Jeannette, if you knew...
People say I fled the world.
They say I was a coward.
That I had left mother.
With so many tears,
with the blood of my body and soul,
I tried to save that soul.
Forgive me, Lord, for my pride
at choosing a soul to save.
When the soul is judged,
if God condemns it to hell,
our work is of no avail.
Our prayers are of no avail.
And our suffering is of no avail.
Let us not give in vain
our living work, living prayers and living suffering.
We must let the dead bury the dead.
If we see a soul damning itself...
We cannot be sure.
But we know that some do.
We often think that a soul is damned.
When I believe that a soul is damned,
I am unhappy and offer God the suffering
caused by this damned soul among us.
And when you see your prayers are in vain?
We cannot be sure.
And, if so, it concerns the good Lord.
Our souls belong to him.
Neither we nor anyone else can ask him why.
Farewell, Madam Gervaise.
Farewell, child.
May the Saviour save your soul.
Amen, Madam Gervaise.
Lord, I know Madam Gervaise is right.
I know Hauviette is right.
I know my complaint is wrong,
that you reap our wheat as you wish.
I know you're right.
Your love does everything for the best.
On earth and in heaven.
For the best in the infernal flame.
You are right when you save or condemn a soul.
You reap our wheat just as you reap our souls.
You have, for the best, made hellish suffering eternal.
And made human life and eternal life
and made human death and eternal death.
And you are right in life and in death, forever on earth and in eternity.
Yet when I think some souls damn themselves,
when I think some were not yet damned when I began to say this prayer
and are now damned for eternal death...
When I think
my words find you busy damning souls...
Forgive me, Lord, if I blaspheme.
That stops me from praying.
My words seem bloody with the cursed blood
and my soul rebels, thinking of the damned.
Oh, Master, deign for once to grant my prayer,
so I do not go mad with the rebellious.
For once, at least, grant one of my prayers.
I've prayed for a year now for Mr Saint Michael's venerable mount,
imperilled by the ocean's waves.
Grant that prayer, Lord.
While awaiting a warlord to drive the English from France,
deliver Mr Saint Michael's good knights.
Oh, Lord, I beseech you one last time.
They have been saved!
Mr Saint Michael's men?
They have been saved. They were saved three weeks ago!
Lord, you have granted my prayer!
The Lord has granted mine too, and Mengette's as well.
He has granted all our prayers.
Everyone's prayers.
I'll run to tell Mengette.
Wait. Who brought the news?
A pilgrim returning from the mount.
- Goodbye. - Wait!
Tell me how it happened.
That's easy to know.
All the men there were good Frenchmen.
Every morning they prayed well, all day they fought well.
And started again the next day.
Mengette will be happy. Goodbye.
Several days later.
In the same place.
Morning.
Oh, my God,
you have let it begin again.
You have allowed
the ravaging hordes to set fire to our houses,
our barns and our wheat fields.
You have let
the abominable hordes hold sway.
We fled before them like cowards,
carrying our bundles to an isle m the Meuse,
urging on our crazed horses and frightened sheep,
without rising up against their ravaging fury.
If only the peasants had wanted
to cut down the men of Burgundy!
But good peasants
do not make good soldiers.
They will not march
if they do not have a warlord
whose fresh courage
will inspire their weary souls.
A harsh captain
for harsh battles.
A compassionate conqueror for soothed men.
Oh, my God, give us
that warlord!
With a man who is willing to take up this hard task,
the French will be able to drive out the trespassers.
The French cannot possibly be cowards.
yet they have forgotten that they were courageous.
In order to wake them,
send us the warlord.
Oh, I beseech you
one last time.
Oh, Mr Saint Michael!
Oh, Madam Catherine!
Oh, Madam Margaret!
Why my sisters, did you abandon me?
Why did you not take my soul on your wings,
weak, alone and weeping in the exiling land?
Why, my older sisters, did you leave me like this?
You have given me a difficult task
and now left me
in the human battle.
You told me in your unforgettable voice:
"Jeanne, God has chosen you now.
Drive the English out of this realm that he loves."
And you have left me
here below without advice,
alone now to face this difficult task.
My saints, you have named the warlord,
but I cannot lead the soldiers.
My God, I am just a simple shepherdess.
I cannot fight, oh no, I cannot.
You now want me to be the warlord.
both a saint for you and a leader for the soldiers.
I could attempt to pray again,
but lead a battle, that I cannot do.
But you,
you know very well
that soldiers are brutes
and that I cannot leave with them.
I cannot win with brutish soldiers.
They need a leader more brutal than they are
to tame them in the battle,
rule them with a firm hand and launch the attack.
Send us a leader more brutal than they are.
Send us someone who knows the task,
strong enough to lead the soldiers
as they are now, to rally Burgundy...
and drive out the English.
That, I cannot do.
Oh, my God,
give us
a better warlord.
A few years later.
One of the first days in May.
In the same place.
Hello, Hauviette.
What's the news today?
Hello, Jeannette.
Is there any news today?
News? What for?
To know.
You know there's no news now.
News was good when we were fighting.
We're still fighting.
No, the English rule everywhere.
And the heart of France where the Dauphin resides?
And Saint Michael's Mount? And our land?
It's not much.
One city stands strong if you follow the Meuse and turn left.
An English army will lay siege to Orleans.
- Is that on the Loire? - So I'm told.
It's a stronghold.
Do you know what Mengette told me?
Some people are saying that it'd be best if the English won.
People say that?
Yes, because if the English win completely,
we will no longer fight.
This bad war will be over.
There will be no more battles.
There will be no more war.
There will be no more soldiers.
There will be no more suffering.
There will be no more suffering for bodies.
There will be no more suffering for souls.
The houses will be kept safe
and safe the churches too.
There will be no more children
who will leave weeping along the hungering road.
And we will be able
to harvest our crops at last.
I didn't say that.
Mengette heard it from others.
Your father has a house in town?
Like yours, like everyone.
It's his, not Big Pierre the roofer's
nor Louis Vaslin the carter's, nor my father's?
No it's my father's.
The kingdom is the same. It's the king's.
It can't belong to the English.
It belongs to the Dauphin,
but right sometimes must submit to might.
Not before having used all the resources of war
to the bitter end.
As long as there remains one man of arms
to wield a sword,
as long as there remains single peasant
to strike with his scythe,
we must not give in!
We must not give in!
But, Jeannette, while the Dauphin has his rights
over France,
we must also consider
the rights of the French.
Surely we have the right
to avoid at last the suffering of our souls
and the suffering of our bodies.
And children have the right
not to remain orphaned forever.
Tell me, is the soil of France good?
It is here at least.
Elsewhere too, as men of arms know in neighbouring lands.
People must know everywhere.
If they know the soil is good
and easy to take, they'll all come.
They'll come at a gallop and fight to rule us.
And the evil war will never end.
But once the English win...
- What? - They'll defend us.
Not so fast! The French won't drink from that cup.
The French couldn't endure masters. It's not in their blood.
English masters would be the worst.
Why not? I hear they're good Christians.
They carry out fewer massacres and ravages than the French.
They're disciplined.
Very disciplined.
Once, they were ordered to kill the prisoners slowing them down.
They killed every last one.
They're disciplined.
How can we resist? We've done all we could.
The Dauphin does all he can. He has asked Scotland for help.
But Scotland is too far!
The help that France needs is in France.
His son will marry the Scottish king's daughter.
We don't need the King of Scotland's daughter.
A French girl will save France.
A French girl?
If Scotland sent 10,000 men, people would notice!
We certainly would.
10,000 more foreigners devouring France.
The Scots won't save France.
- Who then? - The French must.
There are none left.
My girl, there are many all over France, many around here.
No warlords.
There's not one warlord.
You said so three years ago. You were right.
Someone had to kill war.
I often asked God for that. You too, right?
Despite our prayers, God has not sent a warlord.
He wants the English to win.
Otherwise, he'd have sent our warlord.
The Lord can find a warlord anytime.
I prayed a long time, but it's over.
I ask for nothing but peace.
If not the peace of victory, at least the peace of defeat.
Keep praying for a warlord to take on the task.
What for?
Pray too for the warlord.
What for, Jeannette?
I might tell you later.
When I heard the English were besieging Orléans,
it was great news for me.
Greater than you imagine.
Come back later.
I might have news for you.
But you never move!
News can come from inside. See you later.
Oh, my God,
forgive me for having waited so long
before making my decision.
But since the English have decided
to attack Orleans,
I feel it is high time for me to make up my mind too.
I, Jeanne,
hereby decide I shall obey you.
I, Jeanne,
shall now serve you.
my master.
Here and now,
I declare that I shall obey you.
You have ordered me to go to battle.
I shall go.
You have ordered me to save France for Monsieur le Dauphin.
I shall try to do so.
I promise you that I shall obey you
until the very end.
I want that.
I know what I am saying.
Whatever happens to me now.
I promise you that I shall begin
and that I shall obey you
until the very end.
I wanted that.
I know what I have done.
Evening, Jeannette.
- Your news? - It's done.
What is?
It has happened.
- Is it good? - It is.
The warlord will do battle.
- That's good. - It is.
Has he been chosen then?
Long ago, but he wouldn't leave home.
He was wrong. He must march.
He was wrong.
He saw that and so he has decided to go.
It's his duty.
Only his duty.
Are you sure he'll go?
He'll leave as soon as he can.
To catch up on lost time.
He'll try to.
He will be forgiven for waiting so long.
He will try to be forgiven.
But...
But tell me, Jeannette, who is he?
We'll know once he leaves his land.
For now, we must pray for the warlord.
I will, if you're sure he'll go.
I'm sure of it.
Run an errand for me.
Find Father Jean before he leaves.
He must send my uncle to me.
I must watch my flock until dark.
Now, oh God of mine,
that I am going to begin,
if the English refuse to leave,
then give me the force and strength that I need to lead
hardened soldiers and to unleash them like a mighty wave.
carrying off everything in its path.
Now, oh God of mine,
that I am going to begin,
if the English refuse to leave,
give me the gentleness and the strength that I need
to calm the soldiers
and to soothe them
in their triumph,
once the assault is over.
But if, in the battle that I shall undertake,
this worker is weaker clumsy or cowardly,
if this worker is weak in leading the soldiers...
And if, in the victory that I am going to work for,
this worker is weak in her second task,
if this worker is weak in calming the soldiers,
if I work badly in battle or in victory,
and if the work I wished to accomplish poorly done...
Oh, my God,
forgive this poor servant.
Oh, my God,
forgive this poor servant.
Hello, Jeannette.
Hello, uncle.
Father Jean came by.
- He said you needed me. - Yes, uncle.
- It's urgent? - Yes, uncle.
I set off early, because I always do what you want.
You won't send me for Madam Gervaise again?
- I don't need her now. - Good.
I can tell you as it's over...
I was so scared because of her!
With you in a convent, we'd have been heartbroken.
She could have taken you to Nancy.
- Orleans is further. - Orleans?
That's nowhere local. Who cares about Orleans?
It's under siege.
- I heard that. Good. - Good?
Not for them, but for everyone else.
The English will soon end the war.
- You say that too? - Like everyone.
You don't understand the affairs of the realm.
The affairs of the realm aren't our business.
Why did you send for me?
Promise to hear me out.
I have nothing to lose.
I'll do that.
I promise.
Go and find my father.
- Fine. - By noon.
- Fine. - Say you need me.
That's not true!
Let me speak. I take responsibility.
Take me to Burey right away.
You'll put me up before taking me to Vaucouleurs.
Henri le Rover will put us up there.
Then take me to Lord Baudricourt.
What on earth for?
I shall tell him, "God orders you to take me to the Dauphin."
Come, my child. Have you gone mad?
Mad? Uncle, my soul is healthy now.
I am more or less sure I shall never go mad.
You're not mad, yet you say
God orders Lord Baudricourt to take you to the Dauphin!
It is true. And I am not mad.
If I said otherwise, I'd be mad
or a liar.
Come, Jeannette, my child,
speak slowly, so I understand.
Uncle, it's simple.
France belongs to God,
but God just wants to watch over her.
He has entrusted her to the Kings of France.
With King Charles dead, France comes to his son, the Dauphin.
The English go against the Lord's wishes.
To stop them, he sends me to the Dauphin.
The Lord said that himself?
No, he sent Saint Michael, Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret.
Was that long ago?
Three years next harvest.
Three years! And you never said?
Oh, uncle, if you knew
how heavily time has weighed on me
during these three years!
If you knew how the saints had urged me to leave!
And even when they were not there,
every time someone spoke of the war in front of me,
every time someone spoke of the English,
every time someone said
that they had advanced deeper into France,
my disobedience
weighed down on my soul
as if to stifle it!
But I was afraid. I was afraid of leaving,
afraid of doing battle,
afraid of defeat.
and, I think, of victory too.
I was afraid of everything, first and foremost of myself.
For I knew myself and I knew
that once I left, I'd see it all through.
I was afraid like an animal.
I was alone with my disobedience.
And I was unhappy.
And my soul was stifling
beneath the burden of my disobedience.
And I was afraid, I was afraid, I was afraid.
Yet, I can feel deep down that I am not a coward.
But, you know, uncle, when I was little,
I was too scared, too often,
for all those I loved,
for all those I love...
And there are many of them.
That is what made me cowardly
and made me fear for myself too.
But that is all over now, being scared.
It's all over now.
Uncle, when do we leave?
One word, Jeannette...
Do not call me Jeannette.
All those who know call me Jeanne.
Saint Michael called me that.
Jeanne, what else prevented you from leaving?
Uncle, that is for me alone to know.
Tell me, Jeanne,
did St Michael tell you to lie to your father to leave home?
No, uncle.
I didn't talk to them about it for they are too white.
Such matters are for us.
You decided to lie to your father in order to leave?
Yes, and I take responsibility.
God told me to leave. You know my father.
He only ever does as he wants.
If he knew...
If he knows, you won't leave.
So I have to lie.
My poor child!
We have to lie.
That's true, I'm afraid.
There is no other way.
No other way. We have to lie.
I don't care.
To think I'll pretend to take you to Burey for a while,
before you go to France for years!
Will you come back?
You don't know how it feels, lying like that.
I'll take responsibility.
No, Jeanne. I see now
you bear a heavy burden.
I am a man
and I am strong enough to bear my share.
I take responsibility for my lie.
May the Lord forgive us both if we do any harm.
Amen.
But you cannot imagine the pain it causes me
to have to lie, a man of my age.
As for me, uncle.
do you believe that these lying words
are not painful to say?
Three years now they have been here
and I could not utter them.
Come, Jeannette! Cheer up, girl!
You weep about having to lie.
But there is time, thank God!
Nothing is done. Soon it will be too late.
It will have been done for good.
Uncle, everything has been done.
Everything has been done now.
Everything has been done for good.
Everything has been done since yesterday morning.
It was yesterday morning that I wanted it.
I wanted everything.
I made up my mind.
After all, the English have decided
to lay siege to Orleans.
I'll see you later, uncle.
I'll see you later. Be brave.
See you later, my poor child.
See you later. May God forgive us.
Alas!
Farewell, sleepy and gentle Meuse of my childhood.
You remain here by the meadows
below which you flow.
Meuse, farewell, I have already begun to depart
for those new lands
where you do not flow.
I am now leaving for new lands.
I shall fight battles and cross rivers.
I am leaving to carry out new tasks.
I am leaving to undertake new tasks far away.
And, during that time,
oblivious and gentle Meuse,
you will continue to flow,
the usual passer-by
in this happy valley where the grass grows green.
Oh, tireless Meuse
that I once loved.
Oh, father, oh, mother, once you have been told
that I am in the land of battle and alarms,
forgive my departure and your tears.
Forgive my departure and my lie too,
my lying departure and your slow suffering,
and for saying farewell to you when you are not here.
Forgive me both. And you too my brothers.
All three forgive your lying sister
and replace me well at our father's side
and comfort mother for my false departure.
Oh, comfort mother
for my slow absence.
Hello, uncle.
Were you praying, Jeanne?
No. I didn't dare to.
I couldn't while we were lying.
- Well, uncle? - It's done.
Your father was at home. He had returned early.
While uprooting that tall oak, on the Coussey road,
he twisted his wrist.
He sprained it?
He just needs to rest for a couple of weeks.
I said, "Jacques, I must take Jeannette home."
I was shaking like a leaf, but he didn't see,
He was winding a cloth around his wrist.
He didn't listen.
"I'm asking," I said,
"because I need her."
If he'd asked why,
I'd have cried, No!
You can see it's not true! You can see it's a lie!"
I'd have been glad.
But. he said. "Son, Jeannette is like your own child.
She is as happy in your home
as in mine.
Keep her all you want. But she must tell Mengette
because of the sheep."
It was more cowardly to listen than to lie.
I was stifling. I bit my lips.
I didn't say a word And ran off like a thief.
I ran off like a thief.
My God,
forgive us for hurting those who love me by leaving.
I now sense that I love them too.
I have never stopped loving them.
Forgive us the hurt my departure will cause.
Forgive us the hurt I am doing now.
Later, if I cause hurt in France
in the battle in which I serve you,
oh, my God, forgive your poor servant.
When do we leave?
Early tomorrow would be best. You must watch your flock until dark.
- We'll leave early. - If you want.
very early, to avoid Hauviette.
- You won't see her before you go? - No, uncle.
Lying to Mengette about my sheep enough.
Not Hauviette.
It hurts to say goodbye
when it would comfort us to say adieu.
Poor Jeannette!
We'll leave the town without looking back.
I can't cleave in steps. It would be too painful.
My poor child!
When we reach Burey,
Burey la Côte, we shall stop.
A stone cross marks the village.
- It overlooks this valley. - No.
You can't see Domremy or Greux.
Then my departure will be complete.
Of this whole district, you only see Maxey.
Precisely, uncle.
Don't you hate the Burgundians of Maxey?
Now, I can see them and not hate them.
I shall not hate anyone
as the time will be nigh.
- What time? - When the Burgundians and us,
Domremy and Maxey, will be good French citizens together.
The next morning.
Let's go, lads!
We have to start early this morning.
You can finish eating on the way there.
The weather is likely to be the same as yesterday.
It will be hot later.
We'll be glad to rest.
Do you have everything you need?
You know, that damn oak is a tough one.
But you,
you'll be able to defeat it.
You're young.
Unlike me.
Yesterday I was the weaker one.
By our Lady, I'm getting old.
I'll go with you anyway.
Old men can be of some use.
They're always good for giving advice.
Mother,
make a good pot of soup for your lads
because, you know, they will be hungry
when they come back at ten.
All right Goodbye, all. Goodbye, Durand.
Travel safely.
By the way, Jeannette,
did you speak to Mengette yesterday evening?
Yes, father.
She'll watch your sheep and hers?
Yes, father.
Good. You'll watch hers when you come back,
one day when she needs you. As a friendly gesture.
All right, goodbye then.
The lads have already left.
Goodbye.
We must leave too, aunt.
The sun is getting higher.
Are you ready?
You have plenty of time, my children.
You must eat something first.
I have everything you need in the pantry.
Thank you, aunt. I'm not hungry.
We're not hungry. We'll eat when we arrive.
As you wish, my children.
Here, Jeannette,
put your wool
and your spindles up there on the shelf.
We won't touch them.
You can finish when you get back.
All right, my children.
Goodbye
and travel safely.
Goodbye, mother.
Before the end of the following winter. One morning.
Hello, everyone.
Hello, uncle.
You're all alone?
They're busy making bread.
That's why I sent for you. We can leave in peace.
Like eight months ago?
Better. This time for good.
What if Lord Baudricourt says the same thing?
Remember the first time?
"You can see she's mad and you're mad to listen to her!
Box her ears and take her home to her father."
He won't say that.
- Why not? - He isn't as sure as he was.
He's stubborn.
If he won't lead me to the Dauphin, I'll gather soldiers.
Jean de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengy will take me.
And if the soldiers refuse, I'll gather the people.
And if they refuse, I'll go alone.
And if I don't have a horse, I'll wear my legs down to stumps!
My girl, calm yourself!
I am calm, uncle.
I'll go to the Dauphin and raise the siege of Orleans.
Its people have been besieged for three months.
They fight well, but don't know I must rescue them
and are not counting on me.
The English hold the duke prisoner
and attack his city when he can't defend it.
After I raise the siege and save the Duke of Orleans,
I'll have the Dauphin crowned in Reims.
And, with the Lord's help, I shall drive the English from France.
My poor child,
remember what I said.
For now, you have not left.
Later...
I left it eight months ago.
My soul has never returned here.
My departure is complete and I leave those I love serenely.
Your father suspects something.
Last week, he said,
"I dreamt Jeannette left with soldiers.
If that were to happen, I'd rather drown the girl in the Meuse."
He suspects, so we must leave and give him an excuse.
Do you have one?
Unfortunately, I do. But it scares me.
What is it, uncle?
Your aunt is not well.
- Is she sick? - Yes.
She got up too soon.
The baby is just ten days old.
While I was away,
she got up to clean the house.
She caught a chill.
She's sick and Pierrette is caring for her.
So you need me to care for Aunt Jeanne?
Using a misfortune may bring misfortune.
We have no choice.
It's something when, to tell a lie,
you use the truth to lie more assuredly.
We have no choice.
I'll find your father.
Oh, tireless and gentle Meuse of my childhood
that passes through the meadows
near my home,
the time has come for me to leave for France.
Oh, my Meuse, I am now leaving for good.
Oh, my father's home where I span wool,
house of strong stone,
oh, my sweet home,
I am leaving for good in the human battle.
Now, I am leaving for good.
However, I do not feel the emotion of departure
and do not come now to say farewell to you.
These eight months past my soul has been in France.
For eight months now it has already been where I want it to be.
My soul has gone to the city under siege,
with the defenders fighting there.
My footsteps will soon lead me away over the snow,
but my soul is already in those lands there.
You, whom I loved so much when I was with you,
oh, you whom I loved so much when I left for France,
I now love you even more.
Being far from you, my soul has found the strange love of absence.
Now, far from you, I love you even more
than at the time of departure or of remaining.
Oh, I feel a strange love for the home that I once knew,
now that my soul resides in France.
And strangely I love those that I already loved
for I now know the love of fidelity.
My soul knows how to love those who are not there.
My soul knows how to love those far from it.
Let's leave, uncle.
Let's leave.
Your poor father said to me,
"It's for the best, my lad, it's for the best.
Take her to Burey. It'll be a change for her.
Right now, she seems to have notions,
notions far from commonplace.
Keep her a few weeks,
like last time."
Let's leave.
Have you eaten before leaving?
I couldn't. Have you?
I've eaten.
- It's cold. - A hard frost.
After a frost, you must eat.
Neither of us can fall ill now.
No, Jeanne, I really can't.
My heart is too upset.
Wait while I say goodbye.
Yes, goodbye, everyone.
Goodbye.
Subtitles ripped by gooz karagarga, 2018