All language subtitles for Watch Maison Close S02-E03 - Episode 3 - Free TV Shows - Tubi

‟No more war,
no more gallows

One is shameful and criminal
and the other barbaric

Why must the oppressed
always be punished for protesting

and sent to their graves?”

What are you doing here?
Who did that to you?

A customer who refused to cough up.

Rose, it's hellish. Since Corentin died,
we've been left on our own.

We're either beaten up by dandies
or raided by the cops.

Can you take me in
for a few days?

Of course.
But you'll have to hide in the cellar.

The situation is fraught at the moment.

Do you think that old bag
was trying to double-cross us?

Risking my skin
to negotiate with Corentin?

Maybe she informed on us.

- About what?
- The break-in.

In exchange for the Paradis.

Is that punch bag okay?

I know Hortense Gaillac well
and she is no paragon of virtue

but I can't really see her
settling scores with some crook

in the back yard of a tavern.

She's our only suspect
for Corentin's murder.

Let me take over this case.

For the Sûreté
it's just another murder case,

whereas for the vice squad
the future of streetwalking is at stake.

All right, seeing as it is just
a settling of scores between pimps.

I owe you one.

By the way,
how are your wife and my kids?

I think there's something
you're not telling me.

I didn't kill Corentin.

I can't help you
if you refuse to cooperate.

Corentin had some info on Mosca's gang
that might be of interest to the police.

What sort of info?
Was Corentin's tip accurate?

- Did they rob Brunswick?
- I don't know.

When I arrived on the scene,
Corentin was already dead.

I will be more use to you
at the Paradis than in here.

You're going to need a sound alibi

to present to Mosca.

Yes, I had arranged
to meet Corentin that night.

Since the moral order
came into force

streetwalkers have been harassed
by the vice squad.

Corentin had lost control of his patch
so he had decided to sell his girls.

That doesn't explain
why you were there.

He wanted to introduce me
to his procurer.

What? What procurer?

Antonetti.

The guy who takes care
of trade with Buenos Aires.

I was meant to take on the task
of finding him girls and training them.

Well, I think you went
to plot with Corentin.

Out of nostalgia
for the Paradis's heyday

when you were in charge
of more than the bed linen.

If you don't trust me,
go and talk to him yourself.

- Who?
- Antonetti?

The cops were quick to release you.

Perhaps because I didn't kill him.

How's Jeanne?

She's fine.

She's strong.

I want to see her.

She'll come.
I'll tell her you're feeling better.

She's my daughter.

Of course Jeanne is your daughter.

You got me committed deliberately
and you hope I get sent to the asylum

- so that you can have her back.
- Why would I do such a thing?

Filthy whore!

You must go now.

- Leave her alone, Marguerite.
- No! I'm not having this.

I'm visiting my girlfriends.
Is that forbidden?

Stay put.

Come here.

- I found this hussy in the cellar.
- She's a friend.

- She's come to sell opium to Rose.
- I haven't touched it for a year.

Whereas you should try it. It would
relax you and help you lose weight.

This is not an inn.

Do you know what it's like
to work on the streets?

Now that Corentin is dead,
there's no one to protect them.

Thank you, Marguerite.
I'll deal with this.

Did you belong to Corentin?

I don't belong to anyone.

But that loser Corentin was my pimp.

Is there no one else
who can take you on?

He has two brothers-in-arms
but they're in Nogent.

How many of you are there?

Ten.

- How old?
- What's with the police interrogation?

Old enough to lure customers
off the streets.

You can stay here
for a few days.

Don't mention it.

Since when have you liked
taking baths?

Don't worry about me, Marguerite.

It will take more than this
for me to drown myself.

Hortense was telling the truth.
I spoke to a streetwalker.

She said it was hellish out there.

Still, it's a risky business.

We'd have to track down the girls
and give them shelter.

- With Torcy on our backs...
- It's a lot of cash, Louis.

We're already earning a fair bit
at the Paradis, you know.

Those streetwalkers
are direct competition for us.

We sell them to a procurer,
take the cash

and we'll be rid of them for good.

- Do you really want to be a procurer?
- Remember 20 years ago?

That rue des Martyrs wine merchant,
50 francs in the till?

Yes, we thought we ruled the world.

Well, we could rule Paris.

Ask Hortense to arrange
a meeting with the Mexican.

Argentinean.

The Argentinean capital is expanding.

Émigrés are arriving
in their hundreds.

Fortunes are being made
in a few weeks.

All these men want
to enjoy themselves

and to find a bit of Europe there.

They are crazy about franchuchas
with their legendary savoir faire.

Who did you deal with
before Corentin?

I normally stock up in Marseille.
It's the first time I've come to Paris.

My client is opening
a high-class brothel in Recoleta.

A posh neighborhood
in Buenos Aires.

The Marseille girls
won't be up to the job.

So here I am.

Corentin spoke highly
of Madame Gaillac

and her establishment.

But after what happened to him...

- Poor Corentin.
- What exactly do you want?

A dozen prostitutes:
pretty, healthy and good at their job.

I am very particular
about the merchandise.

Mr. Antonetti will take care
of the journey to Marseille.

I just need medical certificates.

Customs are uncompromising
on that point.

The New World is worried
about epidemics.

I'll think about it.

It's hard to get hold of girls
under the moral order.

You should move to Buenos Aires.

There are no controls
on prostitution there.

Madame Gaillac
will be our go-between.

Meanwhile, enjoy
what the Paradis has to offer.

Gladly.

We have all you need here.

Blondes, brunettes, redheads.

There's no point
in mentioning Argentina to them.

What with all the stories in the press,
it might alarm them.

Valentine? Come here.

You see that guy with Hortense?

I want to know more about him.
Get him talking.

It will be my treat.

You can count on me, boss.

- Good night.
- Good-bye and thank you.

I might have found a solution
for Corentin's former protégées.

They can come here
for a few days.

All right?

I'll go and see them tomorrow.

You're not planning to make them
work here for free, are you?

Life is better with bubbles, isn't it?

Aren't you having any more?

Yes, of course.

I dream of moving
to the provinces.

I don't have many illusions.

I know I'll be a prostitute all my life.

But I reckon I'd be treated
with more respect in the provinces.

Given that I come from Paris,
from a reputable house.

Perhaps one day
I can become an assistant madam.

Anyway, Rose and Véra
get all the business here.

Véra is the tall brunette.

She's the madam's favorite.

Not that we really have a madam
now that Mosca is the boss.

He fancies Rose.

The young blonde girl
who thinks she's irresistible.

God, she annoys me!

I was the assistant madam
here once, you know.

So I know what to do.

I might be able
to find myself a partner.

Or a husband even.

We could open
a small brothel together

and I could be the madam.

That would be great.

I'm sure you'll succeed one day.

- I'm enjoying talking to you.
- Me too.

But how about sucking me off?

Thank you, Monsieur Hubert.
Good-bye.

How did you get on, Monsieur Hubert?

On reflection,

I'll take Valentine next week.

Really?

- Angèle is...
- What happened?

too red-headed.

Of course.

I'll reserve her for you for next week.
Good-bye, Monsieur... Hubert.

I'll be five minutes.

Are you asking me or telling me?

I'll be five minutes.

Be five minutes, then.

- What's wrong?
- Valentine.

I couldn't get anything
out of him, I swear.

Your man is about as chatty
as a corpse.

What's wrong?

Thank you, Valentine.
You can go back to the lounge.

Classy, Valentine. Very classy!

Go ahead and laugh.

But Mosca sent me
to spy on that guy Antonetti.

Who is Antonetti?

A procurer the boss
is doing business with.

What business?
What are you talking about?

He's looking for girls for a house
in the provinces or something.

I didn't really understand.

Looking for something?

Who is Antonetti?

News travels fast here.

A procurer for provincial brothels.

So you thought you'd sell him
your batch of streetwalkers.

I thought the girls might be grateful
for the opportunity.

Procurers are bastards.

I don't mind leaving them to die
on the streets if you'd rather.

What matters is the girls' safety.

That's no reason
to treat them like cattle.

Rose?

I know what I'm doing.

I'm sure you will support
your colleagues from the streets

who will be moving into the cellar.

It's not strictly legal, of course.

I'm relying on your discretion
with the police.

What does he mean by quarantine?
I can't stop working.

- No one's going to stop you.
- Yes, they are.

You'll be all right.

How is she?

Stop pretending.
You know full well she has syphilis.

If Mosca finds out,
he'll throw her out.

I can't treat her here.

Sending her to Saint-Lazare is
tantamount to sending her to a mortuary.

Their overall condition is pitiful.
They're suffering from malnutrition.

There is nothing I can do.

Adrien.

You've got to do something for them.

Antonetti wants French chic.
Tell Hortense to spruce them up.

- It could take some doing.
- I'll see to it.

It's unseemly
to be out walking on your own.

Not only is it unseemly,
it's forbidden for girls like you.

It would be a shame to see
you sent back to Saint-Lazare.

What do you want, Angelus?

According to my sources, a procurer
we've been looking for is in Paris:

a man named Antonetti.

I want you to give us
some worthwhile tips on him:

his hideout, his girls, his plans.

- I've never heard of this guy.
- Well, be vigilant.

Keep your eyes and ears open.

Antonetti will make his presence felt
sooner or later.

And Torcy is relying on you.

Are you okay? Not finding
your new family obligations too trying?

I did warn you.

Torcy is like a dog with a bone.
He won't let you off the hook.

She's risen to the bait.

Antonetti.

‟Open the Gospel
rather than the prisons

Spread peace
to make this land fertile

No more wars,
no more gallows

One is shameful and criminal
and the other barbaric

Why must the oppressed be punished
and sent to their graves?”

He's got them locked up.

Maybe he'll put them to work
in the cellar.

That would create unfair competition.

Those streetwalkers
are hardly a match for us.

I don't mean you, Pauline.
You were classy before you came here.

With Camélia as their lead chorus girl,
they're hardly likely to excel.

We can't let them steal
the cocks from our mouths.

They can't charge the same rates.

Surely clients will
cough up more for us.

The clients couldn't care less.

It's blow job, doggie-style
and home to the missus.

What we do is quite different.

- Tell them, Pauline!
- See?

I'm telling you, those girls mean

an end to our Paradis
and a start to slave labor.

Have you heard yourselves?

Those girls, as you call them,

work outside
in despicable conditions.

Look at you,
sitting there on your fat ass.

And you with your ringlets.
Shame on you both!

It's sweet of you to care but what
do you plan to do with your floozies?

We can't accommodate
all the poor cows in the neighborhood.

Not to mention the germs
they're bound to pass on to us.

Jesus! Welcome to paradise!

Honestly, they're so selfish.

It's all about their creature comforts.
What about helping people in need?

Is it Jeanne?

I don't know what to do anymore.

Who am I to ruin her life?
Tell me that.

Telling her the truth
won't ruin her life.

- Have you told your doctor the truth?
- What?

It's obvious that you fancy him.

That's irrelevant. I'm just worried
about the streetwalkers.

That's obvious, too.

Everything seems to be in order.

The Paradis is back on track.

I have seen to it personally.

Stop, stop, stop.

The deal is off.

I need skilled workers,
not common streetwalkers.

Wait!

Leave them in my charge
and you can judge the results.

I'll see you out.

The Paradis is living
well beyond its means.

This morning I received a bill
for 3,000 francs for bed bases.

3,000 francs?

The beds have seen better days.

The Paradis can't inflict
squeaky bed springs on its clients.

I hope you don't intend in future

to count every cloth and towel.

You're right.
We each have our areas of expertise.

Yours is bedding,
mine is management.

Véra did five clients,
Angèle did three.

- And Bayle hasn't settled up yet.
- That's for Torcy when he inspects us.

And when do you plan
to show me the real figures?

I have an arrangement with the girls.

- An arrangement?
- Cash in hand.

They are capable of anything
when it comes to money, you know.

That's a compliment,
coming from you.

I was invited to tea by my friend,
Eléonore de Saint-Sevrin.

You should have seen their house.
It's so grand.

We had nougat for dessert.
Have you ever tasted it?

Yes.

Charles, Eléonore's brother,
has promised to teach me to waltz.

He is so charming.

Forgive me. I'm going on about myself.
What about you?

- I'm a prostitute.
- I think I'll write to him.

To Charles, about the waltz lesson.

He did promise
but I'm worried he'll forget.

What about you?

It must be fascinating
playing other people,

pretending to be someone else.

You must get confused at times.

I am a prostitute.

I'm a prostitute.

I'm a prostitute.

When I fell pregnant 19 years ago,
I wasn't allowed to keep my baby.

I entrusted her to my sister, Renée.

My daughter doesn't know.
She thinks I'm her aunt.

Torcy is threatening to tell her
unless I inform on you.

Don't worry about your daughter.

That bastard won't give in.

Nor will we.

Right, let's start with fellatio.

Right.

For you that means taking a cock,
shoving it in your mouth

and making it come
as quickly as you can.

Well, let me tell you,

when you take a man's member
in your mouth,

you have a hold over the whole man.

Between the moment
he still thinks he is seducing you

and the moment he finds himself
with his trousers round his ankles,

powerless and breathless,

only an instant has passed.

But now you are in control
of his pleasure.

You drop to your knees
in between his thighs.

You caress his organ
with your silky touch.

Your tongue moves slowly up it.

Slowly.

You wrap your tongue around it

and swallow it whole,
feeling it stiffen

in the moistness of your mouth.

Fellatio is the key to a world

where the prostitute rules.

If you open your eyes
and your ears

and use your imagination,

you can guess
your client's secret fantasies

and immerse yourself in them,
all the better to control him.

Tomorrow morning at six,
at Pantin lock near the foundry.

No one will see us there.

Don't worry.

These are respectable brothels.

The girls will be treated well.

And the most gifted among them

are even promised careers as dancers
in the neighboring cabarets.

Like I said,
Argentina is the new El Dorado.

Argentina?

The girls will be delighted
to hear that.

Rose!

You are in business
with a slave trader!

He sells his girls to high-class houses
in Buenos Aires's Recoleta district.

They'll end up doing slave labor.

They'll never be able
to return to France.

- They have a right to know.
- Do you mind? I'll tell them myself.

- I need to talk to you.
- I need to talk to you.

1,000 francs?

- That's more than I've ever earned.
- It's hot air. It's an illusion.

Rose!

Don't you realize, girls?
Read the newspapers.

They're full of stories of girls
who end up in sordid sweatshops.

You can return to the streets
with all the associated risks

- or go to Buenos Aires.
- Antonetti is a slave trader.

- To reputable houses.
- And a con man.

- He has conned our business partner.
- You will be paid 1,000 francs.

- Surely you don't believe him, girls?
- Well?

What shall I say to Antonetti?

Girls?

I agree with Rose.
I don't like this guy.

Don't worry.
You can get opium in Argentina too.

I'd rather get away from here.
At least then we'll have a chance.

- I'm coming with you.
- Me too.

- Me too.
- Me too.

See?

Have a good evening.

Good evening.

Valentine is waiting for you upstairs,
Monsieur Hubert.

I've booked a carriage for tomorrow.
We leave at dawn.

Do you believe
in these Buenos Aires brothels?

Why? Are you planning
on moving there?

We must go.