CRADLE SONG
Castle The end of the XIX Century.
When you wish. Sister Juana.
To our beloved mother on her Patron Saint's.
Reverend Mother.
On this happy day we gather to congratulate you.
We are the lambs who.
Under your guidance. Seek the heavenly path.
On one side. Roses.
On the other. Thorns.
And on the mountain top.
Jesus and Maw.
I ask of Jesus 100 years of life.
Of his sweet Mother. 100 years of happiness.
And that you may enjoy them in holy grace.
My beloved Mother.
That's lovely!
Beautiful!
- I knew you would like them. - Now. Don't flutter so.
The verses were lovely.
I didn't know we had a poetess here.
Thank you so much.
You must write them down.
I'd like to read them.
That has been done. Mother.
If you would kindly accept them.
They're so beautifully written.
And the border!
Are you a painter too?
No. Not at all. Reverend Mother.
Sister Maria Jesus copied them.
Sister Marcel did the border.
And Sister Sagrario the bow.
And I never knew about it.
But Mother Ana authorized it.
And gave us the ribbon and parchment.
Very nice!
So the Mistress of Novices can keep secrets from me as well.
- Blessed be Maw! - Conceived without sin!
What is it. Brother?
I've a gift for the Prioress from the mayor's wife.
- It's for her monastic. - Her onomastic, you donkey!
That's it. Well. I'll leave it here.
I'm to tell you
that the present is called Fiagro. Goodbye!
Did your reverence-s
hear the parish church bells ringing yesterday?
It was ordered by the mayor.
Once he got power. It went to his head.
The here-tic ordered it because it was the anniversary
of the proclamation of the republic.
And the parish priest agreed?
He-'s as bad! God forgive my lack of charity.
Do you know what he dared to tell our chaplain?
That he-'s more liberal
than the mayor.
And that one fine day he-'ll sing the Marseillaise
during the Preface.
At the High Mass!
Don't talk heresy.
That is wicked people-'s slander.
No. Don Calixto told me
while he was preparing for Mass.
And his chasuble
needs a new center panal.
Again?
Yes. Again! It's such a mess!
Don Calixto is a saint.
That's just it. Because he is such a saint
he wears out the silk beating his breast.
By the way. This is a gift from the mayor's wife.
It's called Gayarre.
- Look! - How nice of her!
- It's lovely. - Will it sing?
- It's a canary. - "Will it sing?".
That would be the limit. Sending us a mute canary!
Blessed be Mary!
Conceived. Etcetera. Etcetera.
Without sin. And all that.
Good morning. Sister.
Good morning. Don Jose.
Mint?
Half mint. Half strawberry.
Well. And how saintly are we today?
Only the Lord knows that.
But I must say my rheumatism is worse.
Good Lord. Yes. The old rheumatism.
Strawberry and mint. You said?
I told you. Half and half.
- A good mixture of flavors! - The best.
- Thank you. Don Jose. - Not at all.
But your rheumatism. With all respect.
Is a figment of your imagination.
Yes. But I've had an awful day.
And so have I. If I told you...
Don't tell me. I'm the one in pain.
But I've been acquainted with your rheumatism for years.
Remember to congratulate Mother Teresa.
This is her feast day.
- Is it indeed? - And because of that.
Mother Teresa has granted us a little talking time.
What do you think?
I think it's very good. Really excellent.
Lord. We've started with the hand bell.
Let's see.
What's the problem?
I'm very worried about her.
She sleeps during choir.
Sights and weeps.
For no reason. And will only eat salad.
How old are we?
Eighteen.
And how long have we been here?
A year. Well. A year and a half.
- When do you take your vows? - In three and a half years.
Let me see.
Of course.
A little pale. But nicely shaped.
The Lord has good taste.
Don Jose!
So it seems to be...
melancholia. Unwonted sighs.
Iack of appetite.
Gymnastics!
Gymnastics?
Plenty.
Gymnastics. Yes.
Swedish gymnastics.
Yes. Knee-bends.
One... two...
With arms outstretched.
Very fitting.
To my knowledge. Gymnastics are not a sin.
And it will be good medicine for her.
A cold bath every morning. And afterward.
Norwegian. I mean. Swedish gymnastics.
It's that.
Or you write to this child's parents
to take her home
and find her a nice young man.
What can I say. Mother?
You may leave. And straighten your wimples.
And you. Don Jose.
As you speak so well of matrimony.
Why don't you many?
Here's the newspaper.
It seems the government is shaky again.
And may fall this time.
I won't get married because I'm... ty years old.
And have-can't been melancholic for some time.
Anyway. In this world.
How can one be tempted by matrimony.
If all the pretty girls
are in the convent?
Don Jose.
I'll have to get angry.
They say that the swallows cross the sea every year.
And go to no one knows where.
Oh. To be bird!
Sisters. We-'re going to think
that you want to fly away from here.
And if you did have wings. Where would you go?
I'd go to the end of the world.
I'd go to the Holy Land. To see the Calvary.
I'd go to the Stable at Bethlehem.
And the garden of the House in Nazareth
where the Virgin lived.
It didn't have a garden!
Of course it did.
With a stream and a rose-many bush.
That's what the carol says.
"Maw washes swaddling cloths."
And hangs them on the rose-many.
"And all the angels sing.
And the water laughs along."
Cough.
Again.
Breathe in.
Deeper.
You may get dressed.
The weakest thing in the convent.
Is still your heart. Mother Teresa.
Ans I see you're still trying to get into Heaven
by dint of broths.
You're killing yourself with so much fasting.
And that isn't good. In the world or in the convent.
I forbid you to continue with that penance.
You're extremely anemic.
- May I smoke? - You may smoke. Don Jose.
- And sit down? - Of course.
I told you. Nearly a year ago.
To go and be examined by specialists in Madrid.
But no.
But. Don Jose...
How do you know that I...
That I'm mortifying myself with fasting?
Because what I don't manage to discover as a doctor.
The devil tells me as a friend.
And he does know about nuns.
Don't joke about that.
I'm being very serious.
Either you eat. As Holy Biology demands.
Or when I speak to the Bishop.
I'll tell him about a suicidal nun.
Is it bad?
Very bad?
I fear so. Mother.
My sister's husband is called Bemabe. He's a miner.
He works in the Centenillo lead mines.
Three leagues away from La Carolina.
And the engineers are English.
In my village. When I was a girl.
There was a woman from Ireland.
She had red hair and a face full of freckles.
We called her "Carrot top".
She knew some lovely songs.
Especially a lullaby.
That she sang in a strange language.
I loved it but I couldn't understand it.
So I made up words in our language
and sang them in my head.
I have a married sister with a child.
She brought him here once so I could see him.
Whenever I...
- No. Nothing. - What were you going to say?
It's a personal feeling.
Come on. Sister. Tell us that secret feeling.
Which has almost an odor of sin.
Well...
The thing is...
When I take communion.
I think I receive the Lord
in the form of a child.
The form of a child?
Go on.
Yes.
A very tiny child.
And so. When I press him against my heart.
I feel that. As he-'s so small and helpless.
He can't refuse what I ask.
Did you speak of this to your confessor?
And?
Don Calixto says such things are only...
Nun's silly ideas!
Sister Marcel...
Come with me.
A telling-off "ha be-mus."
Come along. Figaro.
Come out. You're free.
Fly.
Canaries are born in cages. So they don't want freedom.
They like to be locked up.
Like nuns.
Right?
Well. You're mistaken.
Because God made the air for wings. And wings for flying.
What if he-'s happy?
Jumping between two bars and a lettuce leaf.
Let's hope he doesn't decide to start fasting too.
Anyway.
Here.
With my best wishes.
A here-tic like you...
remembers a feast day?
Not any feast day. Just one.
I had to send for it.
The dialogs of Juan Luis Vives!
And in Latin.
Tell me. Why do you admire our Renaissance philosopher?
Vives felt. Perhaps as no one else.
The eternal poetry of what is small and everyday.
Isn't it beautiful.
To look in a stream.
To smell the thyme.
And watch the dawn.
When the world seems...
freshly washed.
And the sky has a transparency it has at no other time.
The beauty of the ordinary.
The harmony of the ephemeral.
Perhaps the most real pictures of this life.
To know how to look
is to know how to love.
On visiting the cells.
I came to Sister Marcela's.
And found hidden between the bed boards
something which should never. Be in a nun's possession.
An object which. In itself. Is the root of perdition.
And the cause of infinite errors.
What is the object?
A piece of mirror.
What have you to say?
I-
What was this piece of glass for?
Perhaps to look at herself and enjoy her beauty.
Offending the Lord with her vanity.
No. Reverend Mother.
Or to preen herself and pull faces. And expressions.
As is done outside.
Your reverence-s know that at times.
Without knowing the reason why.
I am tempted towards melancholia.
And when those temptations
seem to take too firm a hold on you.
You want to climb the trees.
Scale the walls.
Go over the orchard fence and jump into the pond.
How did you know. Mother?
And. As you understand that nun...
cannot indulge in those kinds of...
Eccentricities.
Thank you.
You catch a ray of sunshine with the mirror.
And flash it among the branches.
Across your cell roof. Through the trees.
Or over the walls of the parlor.
And that consoles you.
You think you're a butterfly.
Or a bird. That goes where your thoughts go.
Well...
For that fault which. While not serious. Is
let us say.
Is not the most fitting for our institution.
Before you retire tonight.
You will repeat the psalm "Quam dilecta" three times.
And. Sister Marcel.
Cut your hair more.
Yes. Mother.
- Anything else? - No. Mother. Nothing else.
- If I have your permission? - You have it.
I know what I'd do with such fancies.
I told you about your hair!
Blessed be Maw.
All praise to the Lord.
From century on to century.
An angel.
She-'s like an angel.
You can she her hair under the cap.
Look. She opened her mouth.
She seems to be hungry.
She-'s sucking her hands.
And laughing.
If she sucks. She-'ll fill up with wind.
And then her tummy will hurt her.
Don't suck. Sweetheart.
Well. Don Jose?
What a day for gifts.
First. Figaro.
And now. This.
Sisters. You have just had a six week girl.
Congratulations.
See if you like this.
If only the taverns had a wine
as good as the one you keep for Mass.
I don't mean to shock you. Mother.
But you should drink a glass every day.
It would do you a lot of good.
Wine has tannin.
It tones up the heart and. I may even say. The spirit.
In moderation. Of course.
Anyway...
I am a bachelor by the grace of the one up above.
And while not holy.
I am free of the merit
of having increased by even one person
the population of Spain.
Nor do I have any money.
Because this business of being a country doctor...
is as bad as being a school teacher.
Or being a musician.
But I have my family name. And one hundred books.
Which are at the little one-'s disposal
so that she may have an honorable name and education.
If such things matter. These days.
That means. Don Jose. That you are willing...
To adopt her.
And give her to you as a ward.
God will reward you.
Now.
We must see...
what your superiors say.
I think that there will be no problem.
I'll use all my power of persuasion.
Which is a lot.
I'll make them see...
that not caring for the baby the Lord sent us...
would be...
a weight on the entire community's conscience.
I know my nuns well.
All of them?
How do you mean?
Do you think the Vicaress will accept the child?
I mean. My daughter.
Of course!
The Vicaress is only harsh on the outside.
She has the softest heart in the convent.
To our pact.
Take it.
Come on.
Drink up.
Good. Eh?
"In vino veritas."
Amen.
She-'s so little she hardly sucks.
You help her with light pap.
Or with cow's milk weakened with a little tea.
- She has to be changed. - Why?
Because she has to be.
As you ask for my humble opinion. I must tell you.
Neither sentiment nor women's natural instincts.
Should guide our behavior as nuns.
But the sound reason and wise commandments of our Order.
I know that. Mother.
But seeing her in the basket.
So helpless...
and so trusting...
I thought she was sent here from Heaven
in order to test our charity.
Mother.
When we donned this habit we renounced for ever
the joys of any kind of purely human love.
But...
even if we had that right.
Could we keep a child who is a daughter of sin?
Excuse me.
Madam.
I live in the world and know little of God.
I don't even know if He exists.
And if indeed He does exist. He has forgotten us.
Or perhaps we have forgotten Him. I don't know.
But I do know people.
And I know that people. At times.
Are capable of extracting Good from Evil.
I also know.
That human beings. All of Humanity.
Are no more than newly born babes.
Abandoned in a doorway without note...
to say who we are.
What our fate is. From whence we come...
we have been left here at all.
And so I believe
the child is innocent.
Even if she was conceived in sin.
If such a sin exists.
You decide for me. Reverence.
I took a vow of obedience.
And I shall respect your orders willingly.
As this affects both the child's life and our community.
I shall go against no one-'s will.
Whether it be for better or worse.
So now you know.
If even one of you is in disagreement
Don Jose and I shall consider the subject closed.
What is your answer to be?
Reverend Mother.
I cannot take a decision
without the help of the Holy Spirit.
Whom I have invoked.
But I don't feel his inspiration.
Not taking a decision...
is I itself a way of deciding.
Please advise the court.
They may proceed.
Don Jose!
What is wrong?
It's curious.
I feel as if I had lost something
that was mine.
And that I loved.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye. Don Jose.
- Good afternoon. Ladies. - Good afternoon. Don Jose.
"Puellam habemus."
In that case.
If I may...
I shall arrange the Registry papers.
Good afternoon. Ladies!
Puella m ha be-m.
How wonderful!
Don Jose!
When you leave. Please send the errand-woman to me.
The child must be fed.
Will I see her walk?
You know something?
It's true.
At times. Life smells of thyme.
And it seems...
freshly washed.
What's more...
if you know how to look at it.
It is so easy to love it.
Thank you.
For everything.
I thank you, mother.
Now that she is ours.
Do I have your permission to kiss her?
She isn't Christianized yet.
And you don't kiss heathen babies.
What shall we call her?
Angela.
Maria of the Miracle.
Maria. Just Maria.
We'll call her Teresa. Like Reverend Mother.
By the way. Reverend Mother hasn't even seen her yet.
Will the Mistress of Novices bring her over?
Here. Mother.
Sweet Jesus.
How tiny she is.
"Puellam ha be-mus," Lord, what a tiresome woman!
It's easy to say "We-'re keeping the baby".
But no! It's "Puellam habemus."
Oh my God!
And now this staircase!
Sister Juana.
You look after the child till the errant-woman comes.
I. Mother?
Yes.
You.
Here.
Mother Vicaress!
Come along.
Mother. How can I thank you?
What a darling little girl! Who loves you so much?
Sweetheart!
Go to sleep. My baby.
Go to sleep. My love.
Sleep in peace. My darling.
God's watching over you.
Go to sleep. My baby.
It's so wonderful to be in love!
I feel so happy!
It seems everyone loves me
and everything is calling my name!
The bell. The river. The trees.
Do you hear?
You have to be a bit mad. Teresa.
Even if it's with love. To hear trees talking.
Yes. And they talk with this voice.
I can't explain it. But his voice is like.
- His voice? - Pablo's. Who else-'s?
Of course. Pablo's. I ask such silly questions.
I feel his voice has been talking to me since I was born.
Oh. Mother! The first day he said "Teresa..."
Such a simple thing. Teresa. My name.
It seemed as if
no one had ever called me like that.
Lord! And you still say you can't explain it!
And when he left.
I walked along the street whispering.
Teresa. Teresa. Teresa.
It's so wonderful to be in love!
It scares me that you love like that.
- Because human love fades. - It doesn't fade!
Yes. My dear.
Sometimes. It fades.
And yours could fade too.
And what will be left in your soul once you've given everything?
Because... You know what?
I think one must feel sorrow.
A very great and a very deep sorrow.
When one loses someone we love very much.
With that...
other love of yours.
And you love him very much.
More than my life!
Does he love you that much?
I don't really know.
But it doesn't matter. The fact is...
I love him.
How old is he?
He-'s twenty six.
And another thing.
Is he a good Christian?
We never talk about that.
Does it matter?
My dear! A letter!
It's this. Revere-n Mother.
While I was visiting the cells. As you ordered.
I found among the bed boards
an object which clearly proclaims the offense.
Something which should never be found in the hands of a modest nun.
And...?
A mirror?
Tell me. Sister.
What is it for?
Really. It isn't for...
If anything. It's for something innocent.
So now it's virtue in a nun...
to keep a mirror...
Modernism is invading the convents as well.
Lord. The times we have to live in.
No. Reverend Mother.
At times...
I feel tempted towards...
Melancholia.
And when it gets too strong. You want to climb trees.
Scale the walls.
Go over the orchard fence.
And jump in the pond.
And as you know a nun cannot indulge in those kinds of.
How was it?
Eccentricities. Or fanciful thoughts.
That's it.
You catch a ray of sunshine in the mirror.
And flash it through the trees.
Across the cell roof and over the walls opposite.
And it consoles you to think you are. Perhaps.
A butterfly.
Or a bird.
And that you go where your thoughts want to go.
Very well.
I give you as penance that. Before you retire tonight.
You say in your cell. Three times.
The psalm "Quam Dilecta".
And albeit with a few years delay.
I too shall do the same penance tonight.
You may leave.
Excuse me. Mother.
There is something else I wish to discuss with you.
Something that really is important.
Did you know that Teresa has a young man.
And that. Apparently. She is madly in love?
The errand-woman told me this morning.
The whole town knows.
They don't hide it.
They go out walking.
- Even down by the river? - Alone?
No. That would be too much.
Don Jose always goes with them. As chaperone.
Do you know of this?
Yes. Sister. I did know of it.
Well!
And who told you?
The chaperone.
And what do we do?
I'm coming! I'm coming!
Blessed be Maw!
Yes. Yes. Without sin. Etcetera.
Forget about the password with me. I'm not a Lutheran.
Just a minute.
First. I must see my friend.
What's wrong?
You're not singing.
Figaro used to sing.
Orange.
It's orange.
Mother Prioress and Mother Vicaress have been waiting ages for you.
Apple?
Orange. Sister. Orange.
I don't think they've invented apple candy yet.
And actually. The Prioress and the Vicaress were early for our appointment.
Because it is now precisely 5.00 p. m.
You see? My Roskoff is never wrong.
And neither am I.
Then the convent clock must be running fast.
- It must be. - Let me hear.
Let me hear.
They're very anxious to hear my news.
- Take me to them. - Come along.
Do you have to ring that hand bell? You'd think I was a leper!
Goddam hand bell.
Rules of the Order. Don Jose.
You know very well that it has always been done.
To warn that there-'s a male in the enclosure.
A male in the enclosure!
Will the Vatican find out if you make an exception for me?
Your humility should make you Sisters understand
that this convent is just a drop in the ocean of Catholicism.
What an imagination you have!
A bit more softly.
How is that?
Better. Much better.
Yes. Wonderful. A male in the enclosure!
You didn't mention your rheumatism.
You're out of sorts today. And I understand.
We-'re all sad today because of the child.
The child. The child.
Queen Victoria Eugenia's wedding dress was all spattered
with blood from the horses and from the dead men all around her.
Well...
An absolute horror. Anyway.
It' all in the paper.
I'll leave it to you.
I don't know where it will end.
Sweet Jesus. Such times!
The Queen is so pretty!
They say she-'s very fair.
Very pretty and very fair.
And has no idea of what this country's like.
It's all in the paper.
Sister Agustina made them specially for you.
They're the kind she makes
when the Bishop is kind enough to visit.
Lord. Who would have said it eighteen years ago!
We-'re getting old.
How old are you now. Don Jose?
If we may ask.
Iv Plus eight.
Surely not.
You look as if you're still only... ty.
Not to many in our chapel.
I explained why. Ladies.
His mother is old and ill. So obviously...
But I'll be there.
And as best man. Naturally.
Of course we understand.
The poor lady. It's only human
to want her son to get married at home.
It's natural. And if it is the Lord wish.
We must accept it.
But afterward.
They're going so far away.
To America.
But here. Mother.
In our beloved country.
Times are very bad.
Nowadays there is disillusion.
Strikes.
Discord.
And. In particular. Work is scarce and very bad.
So I think going to America is a good solution.
How many days will the voyage take?
3 weeks.
- And if there-'s a storm? - 3 weeks plus the storm.
So that means it will take letters a month to get here.
Pablo. Teresa's fianc�...
has promised to send us a cable before they sail.
And another from the middle of the ocean.
- Can they do that? - Of course.
- How do the words travel? - Through the air.
When I lived in the world.
They traveled by wire.
Then. It seemed to be the devil's work.
As for the other thing...
that little job...
Did you get it?
And brought directly from Paris. Too.
Voila.
Women wear these under their dresses?
It seems so. Sister.
At least. In France.
That one-'s lovely.
And now...
Would you do me the honor of accepting
these two hundred and fifty pesetas.
For the material. For which I wish to pay.
No. No more-I I've eased my thirst with lemonade.
I don't want any more.
By the way...
Do you know who is in my mind?
Reverend Mother Teresa.
Blessed be her memory. The poor woman.
She-'d be very happy to know about the child's wedding.
The day Teresita was christened.
The Reverend Mother had the kindness.
Imagine what a good woman.
To invite me to a drop of Mass wine.
And on other occasions too.
Mother...
would you please bring Don Jose
a glass of communion wine.
Heavens. Don't go to any bother.
- You'll embarrass me. - Come now. Don Jose.
A wedding is as important as a christening.
What's more. "Wine gladdens the eye.
Cleans the teeth and cures the stomach."
- Indeed? - Mother Teresa said that.
Now that we-'re alone. Mother.
Heavens. Don't go to any bother.
But...
- Teresa. I... - Please...
I love you all very much.
But you are my Mother more than anyone else.
Don't say that.
In God's house. We are all equal.
But in my heart you are the first.
I don't care if that annoys you.
I don't care.
It's not your fault.
That I love you so.
And that you are the person I see.
When I think of my mother.
Teresa.
Everyone here will miss you.
Everyone loves you.
Everyone has always loved you.
Since that very day when. Without even knowing why.
You arrived here.
Where did I come from?
Where. Mother?
From Heaven. Dear. Like everyone.
What a question!
Being engaged has upset you.
I've always asked myself that question.
Ever since I've had the use of reason.
Even knowing there was no answer.
An answer. You say?
I may well have it.
But it's my secret.
And it may be more.
You. Teresa. At least for me.
Came from Heaven.
I'm telling you the truth.
Listen.
When I entered the convent.
I didn't know if I had a real vocation.
On one hand. I felt it.
But I'd get so sad
remembering my parents. My brothers and sisters.
My home.
At times I thought my place wasn't here.
But in a home of my own. With children and a husband.
You know what?
You arrived.
And I forgot all that.
It was as if God. Suddenly. Had given me everything.
That's why I say you came from Heaven.
From that first day.
My life became so full.
In ways I hadn't even imagined.
What a pleasure to watch you grow.
And hear you running through the orchard.
And believe me.
I occasionally felt remorse at loving you so.
I don't know if it's right for a nun
to profess so much love for one person.
But God knows that love is in me.
Because He gave it to me.
Will you be happy with him?
I think so.
Pablo is very good. And full of fun too.
I've told him so often
that Sister Juana is my mother.
My real mother.
That. When we talk. He calls you mother-in-law.
Me?
Lord!
That's going to be far!
What are you thinking?
I don't know.
It's very strange.
At times. I'm sacred to love you.
It's not that.
But I don't know how to explain.
You still love me?
Of course.
Just as well.
Say my name.
Teresa...
Listen. Won't you miss all this?
Not with you.
But it's so peaceful here. So tranquil.
There-'s so much noise outside.
But we-'ll be together.
If you keep on being so sad. I'll start crying.
Teresa.
Tomorrow you'll leave here. Where you've lived for 18 years.
And scarcely felt them pass.
So these moments are...
How can I put it?
Very difficult for us.
Next week. You will be a married woman.
And. Even from our inexperience.
We feel that in marriage you will know
both joy and sorrow.
Don Jose has always told us that man.
Are very different from us.
Neither better or worse.
Distinct.
I don't mean us as nuns.
But as women.
I imagine that matrimony.
Love.
Must be such a perfect blend.
That the soul's fluctuations go unnoticed.
And it will need both passion.
And patience.
Men are demanding. Teresa.
Fickle and selfish.
But Pablo is good.
Even if they're good.
They're used to giving orders.
And that... leaves its mark.
What's more. You're very independent.
And like to have your own way...
Oh. Mothers! Should I not merry?
Should I become a nun and stay here
so you'll never get rid of me?
That's what we hoped you'd do. My dear.
Teresa wasn't born to be a nun.
She was born to be a woman.
I was always very happy in here.
But when I'd go into town. And along the streets.
My heart would jump.
As if I'd gone crazy.
But at the same time.
I liked coming back here.
Coming home.
It was like being taken in your arms.
Your angel's wings.
It was he who was waiting at the door.
Why would he wait here?
Her angel is always with her.
Isn't he, Teresa?
Pass me the scissors, Sister' Juana.
I have to cut the last stitch.
Then we can put it' all in the trunk, can'! We 7.
Came along then.
Here are the nightdresses and the petticoats.
Don't get them wrinkled.
Here are the hand/rei'chl'efs and the combs.
It would be better to put them here.
Don '1' forget the remanants from? The embroidered strips.
[Take them all, Teresa, they'll come in hand]I.
What badly creased gathers.
Who messed them up?
And the walks in the moonlight.
Lord, such sorrow.
Hang the key of the trunk around your neck.
Irreverent's the ribbon.
Don't lose it, no other key can open the lock.
Take this little sachet.
It's filled with lavender and lime peel.
It gives clothes a lovely smell.
They have better perfumes out there.
Dearer, perhaps, but not better.
Gad made these herbs.
They smell clean and pure.
Fly away, go on.
Gad made the air for wings, and wings for flying.
You may come in.
Come on.
What's this? No candy today. Don Jose?
Here. And not a word to anyone about it.
Anise-ed.
Anise-ed!
You wait here.
- Teresa won't be long. - May I smoke?
How can you smoke in here?
- What an idea! - I'm nervous.
Nervous. He says! How can you be nervous?
Pablo!
Smoke!
We have-can't much time.
The train for Asturias passes at 6.00.
And it's an hour to the station from here.
The children are waiting.
Let us go.
Is anything wrong?
Nothing the psalm "Quam Dilecta" can't cure.
I've wanted to see you for a long time.
- Advent. - Advent.
And the second time...
- Lent. - Lent.
Both times. I couldn't see you.
Naturally.
During penance time we don't receive visitors.
- He-'s very devout. - Yes. Ma'am.
To some saintly ladies who are-can't canonized yet.
When I think of death. You can't imagine
how it reassures me
to think of all the white hands
which will push me towards Paradise.
I suppose you have some influence with the family.
With the family?
Of course.
Are-can't you the Lord's wives?
And as I'll be your son-in-law...
Well, so Don Pablo is a real joke-er too!
No. Ma'am.
Well. Yes. A bit.
But please forgive me. It's fear.
Do we scare you?
Yes. Ma'am.
Very much.
Out of respect and affection.
I'm confused.
I don't know whether to thank you or apologize.
When do you sail?
The wedding is tomorrow. In three days.
From Santander.
- Will I get out the tickets? - Yes. Do.
There are the tickets.
Second class.
We-'re getting married now so I needn't go on my own.
I would have preferred to stay in Spain.
But I've got a job in Havana.
In the firm where my brother works.
Are-can't there...
lots of mulattoes there?
In Havana.
What you have are lots of Spaniards.
Will the child get sick on the boat?
Look after her.
And when she gets hot.
She mustn't drink cold water.
She insists on doing that.
And if she catches cold.
She must drink a glass of hot milk.
With a drop of rum.
And lots of sugar.
That's what makes her sweat.
Ladies...
it's five o'clock.
It's time to leave.
Are you ready?
Say goodbye to your mothers.
Bless me. Mother!
May God bless you. Teresa.
Mother...
What can I say?
How can I leave here?
Please forgive me
for all the harm I may ever have done you.
May God reward you.
All of you.
Don't cry. Teresa.
And smile.
Let's see you happy and joyful.
As always.
And now.
I'm sure. Teresa.
They all want to hug you.
You'll examine your conscience every night?
Yes. Mother.
My beloved child.
Write often.
Teresa.
You must show a good example
because you come from God's own house.
I know that. Mother.
Always remember...
that your life is like a miracle.
I will.
I know you'll find
what you're seeking in that other world.
And I know.
Your world need not to be less beautiful than ours.
Because God is in all worlds.
But if it isn't so.
Daughter.
Your home is here.
And my Mother.
Goodbye.
Pray for me. Please.
And never forget me.
Because I will never forget you.
We-'ll pray every night for God to help you.
And we-'ll pray for you too. Pablo.
With the influence you deserve.
As you're family.
Thank you. Mother.
Happy?
And you. Godfather. Never abandon them.
Really. The things you say!
Don't let them abandon me.
This is my real home.
Over forty years coming in here.
Every Clay'-
No one is older than I am.
Not even the porteress.
If they've been your mothers.
They've been my daughters.
I would like to die in here.
So that they
can close my eyes.
Really!
Talking about dying?
That's for me.
With my rheumatism...
Wait.
Mother...
Pablo wants to ask a favor.
But he doesn't dare.
If I can grant it...
Go on. Say it.
Don't be afraid.
Forgive me.
I don't know the rules. I don't know if I may...
Hurry up. It's almost choir time.
Well...
I wouldn't like to leave
without seeing your faces.
This is a day for giving.
Open the window.
You're Sister Juana.
You may leave.
Did you like what you saw?
I'll never forget it. As long as I live.
Thank you. Mother.
To know how to look.
Is to know how to love.
A friend of mine said that.
Vicaress.
With your permission. Mother.
I observed.
That some of you.
Are not marking correctly
the division in the vesicle.
And also.
You drag out the last word
dreadfully.
Be careful with that.
Your reverence-s all know very well
that the beauty of the office
lies principally
in marking the pauses.
And in not drawing out the endings excessively.
Come along.