Battle of the Brave (Nouvelle-France)

Marie-Loup.

My little Marie.

Marie-Loup.

Oh, thank you, my God.

Thank you.

No.

It is not Marie-Loup, Father.

Don't you recognize me? I'm her daughter France.

France?

You got my note.

It was very selfish of me.

But the hope

of seeing you again

has kept me alive.

Thank God.

But first of all...

I don't want this

falling into the hands of strangers.

Your poor mother

wouldn't keep it at the time.

But I was to blame.

I know.

I have read it

a thousand times.

Marie

with the she-wolf's eyes.

Now that I have met you,

I've become my true self.

Before that,

I had a future.

Now...

I have a destiny.

Here.

1759,

another life,

another world,

a year when passions ran high.

I was only a child then, living in a country

which in the eyes of history was still in its infancy.

I had no idea that my country was about to be lost

or that, by the grace of God, I would survive.

This hostile, beautiful no-man's-land

ten times bigger than its mother country France--

the same France that was about to sell us

for a handful of islands in the sun.

The English were preparing to attack where I was born.

And when the city of Quebec fell,

England would seize the keys to a new outpost of her empire.

That was our fate

and this is our story.

François.

You're too late, my poor boy.

Your father's just died.

There you go.

Thank you.

Tell me, Jean-Baptiste,

did my father leave you some money?

A modest amount, but quite enough for me.

I'm very grateful to him.

I'll double it.

If you thank me, I'll halve it.

Your father gave me instructions.

All the papers are ready

and the notary is waiting for you to call on him.

There are a lot of accounts to go through.

We can't have your debtors

taking advantage of the situation.

Jean-Baptiste, you're not only shaving me,

but you're boring me too.

That's quite enough, no?

- - Man: Come here, you little savage.

Girl: Get away! Get away! Move, quick!

Move! Get away!

No!

- Girl: Stop it! -

Is that splendid decoration for your courage? Tell me.

Or were you just trying to baptize her with your holy oil?

Man: He's got a knife!

That's enough.

Carry on.

Woman: Go back to where you came from.

- You like her, huh? - Yes.

Good.

Go now.

- Cuckoo! - Madame.

For red blotches and broken veins, madame.

You took quite a risk, my lovely.

Is your sister always this reckless?

She's not my sister. She's my mother.

But she's so young.

I was married when I was 14, madame.

No. I bet your husband

has to keep his eyes open with a spirited girl like you.

He's watching me from on high.

A widow? Already?

How sad.

Apparently you have quite a few tricks up your sleeve.

Is there a cream for getting rid of the first wrinkles?

Not today, madame, but I can make you up a pot.

It's a miraculous remedy.

Mm, payment in advance.

I have love potions too.

Has anyone ever told you what beautiful eyes you have?

Yes.

Sou-- sou--

sou-- s--

sourire.

- What's your name? - France.

François.

My compliments, mademoiselle.

And what's her name?

Marie Carignan.

But everyone calls her Marie-Loup.

It's because she can see in the dark.

Oh.

You're a-- you're a brave woman.

That's not hard when the men are such cowards.

- All the men? - There may be the odd exception.

I must admit, though, I was scared to death.

That's what I mean. Courage goes hand in hand with fear.

You're teaching her to read. That's the best gift.

She deserves it.

Thank you.

To who do I have the honor of speaking?

François le Gardeur, at your service.

Marie Carignan.

I know. You're the miller's daughter.

- François le Gardeur. - Xavier Maillard.

I wasn't sure it was you,

with all those stripes, minus your beard.

Thank you. You arrived just in time.

You mean now or earlier on?

Ha!

Let's have a drink.

Why didn't you tell him the priest was teaching me how to read?

Are you ashamed you don't know how to?

I'm ashamed for your grandfather.

He's never thought studying mattered.

Then I'm going to be more intelligent than you.

- Oh! -

More educated than me.

Intelligence doesn't come from here.

It comes from here.

The only thing I care about, sweetie,

is that you don't grow up ignorant.

- Then you'll be truly free. -

I love you, you know?

I always forget. You'll have to keep telling me.

- I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. - Tell me again.

- I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. - Again. Tell me more.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Don't tell me you've sunk to dabbling in the peasantry.

Bright young girls come to a penny in Quebec,

with all the polish they need to take their place in society.

Especially now, your heritage will attract them like flies.

Do you think any of those society girls

would have risked their lives for a little savage?

You haven't changed.

I have a very important message for you.

Intendant Bigot wants to meet you tomorrow night.

- - An invitation or an order?

Don't be too clever with him.

I warn you, he has no time for braggarts.

That's too bad.

So, the priest?

He's coughing up yellow stuff.

And he's lost some more hair. I'll tell you a secret.

Everyone thinks I'm his servant, but I'm not.

He bought me from a captain in the West Indies.

- No. You're having me on. - Oh, I'm not complaining.

- Santa Clara. - Ora pro nobis.

- Santa Emilia. - Ora pro nobis.

- Santa Francesca. - Ora pro nobis.

Santa-- oh.

Don't tell me he's never touched you.

Never.

It's me who touches him

when he needs a rub down there.

He says it helps him keep impure thoughts at bay.

Especially when he sees you.

We're going to have a big storm.

I love that.

- Santa Theresa. - Ora pro nobis.

- Santa Francesca. - Ora pro nobis.

- Santa Elena. - Ora pro nobis.

Go home, all of you.

You're attracting the evil eye.

And you don't need to be three for God to listen to you.

Marie-Loup. My little Marie-Loup.

Can you drop these in some boiling water?

I always knew you were special,

even when you were only six.