All language subtitles for teneighty-maison.close.s01e08_track3_[eng]

Yes?

Here.

What is it?

Is everything all right?

My brother has invited me to dinner.

Marguerite wants to see you.
Now.

Do you know a boy called Auguste?

What?

Hurry UP-

Is that him?

Are you still stuck on him?

You know,

having a provincial boyfriend
who knows nothing about Paris

could soon cost you dearly.

How much longer
are you planning to sulk?

It's not me you should be cross with.
It's that bastard, Edgar.

Right.

I don't want clients to see you
hanging about the hallway.

Go into the courtyard.

I'll tell him to go round the back.

Rosalie.

Do your mother and sisters
know you're here?

I'm the head of the family now.

They must hate me.

They'll do as I say.

So you really love me, then?

I would die for you.

I've brought money.

I'm going to pay up
and take you home with me.

- So you still want to marry me?
- Of course I do.

- To consecrate our union?
- Yes.

The union of a peasant
and a whore?

So I can give birth
to a whore's children,

brought into the world
through a whore's cunt,

a cunt that has been worn down
by all the cocks in the capital?

- Please stop it.
- What did I say wrong?

Are you afraid of the truth?

You don't have broad enough shoulders
to take me back

and face people.

These words are part of my life now.

The life Rose has chosen
now that Rosalie is dead.

Do you know what, Auguste?

You didn't have the strength
to protect me.

You didn't love me enough
to protect me.

You let me turn myself
into a total slut.

I hate you, Auguste.

I will spew out any memory of us,

and before God,

I swear that I will go
and piss on your tomb.

- I need to talk to you...
- Come and see this.

We haven't seen him for a while.

Gaudissart?

He's just been appointed Prefect.

What's Edgar doing with them?

My brother has commissioned him
to paint a fresco in the opera foyer.

Well, Well!

Even as an unknown artist,
he bored us silly about his genius.

At least he'll be able to pay now.

- I'll go and warn the girls.
- No!

Send those who are free to bed.
Tell them to use the back stairs.

What?

So...can I go to my niece's wedding?

- You haven't given me an answer.
- What?

- My niece.
- Just do as I say, will you? And hurry!

Door!

This way, gentlemen.

Right, girls, everybody upstairs.

Orders from above.
No one is to work tonight.

What?

So this lot are in
for a wank fest, then?

It's Gaillac and the boss has no intention
of letting him screw you for free.

- That's sisterly love for you!
- Come on, move your arses!

Hurry UP-

Come on, come on.
Quick, quick, quick!

Everybody out of here.
Come on, Bertha.

You can do that upstairs.
Angéle, do you want my help?

Come on, hurry up.

You lot are impossible.
Get a move on.

Go on, get upstairs.

About time.

Wait till you see this, gentlemen.
You won't forget this place.

They're always hurrying us.

I need to take my time
and eat slowly so I can digest.

It's called serenity.

You should take a leaf
out of my book, sweetheart.

Right, we'd better hurry up.
We're really late.

- Hortense will yell at us.
- You didn't listen to a word I said.

Hurry UP!

Bye, girls.

- Where are the others?
- We can handle five between us.

- Ah, those paintings...
- This space inspires me.

Look.

Back upstairs.

Back upstairs! Go on!

I've still got... You know.

I'm not really cured.

How do you manage?

I cover my fanny
and work with the rest.

And I do as many twosomes as I can.

Jessy normally helps me out.

Working in tandem
makes it easy to con them.

- Gentlemen.
- Girls.

- Gentlemen.
- Oh, good evening, Madame.

I am mortified.

- I wish I'd known you were coming.
- Why? What's wrong?

All my other girls are busy
at a special party at the Club de I'Etoile.

- What a disappointment.
- Yes.

- Ladies.
- Let's sit down.

Sorry.

- Will you excuse us?
- Certainly.

- Do you take me for a fool?
- I'm sorry?

Seeing you sacrifice professionalism
out of resentment surprises me.

If only you could surprise me.

Name your price
for sending the girls down.

I have already named my price.

The Paradis.

Good evening.

I only did three clients yesterday, too!
I'm flat broke.

I say three but one was a banker,

who came in his pants
before I could get them off.

And he only wanted to pay half.

I've lost too much already
from being behind bars.

- Have you been taken off the menu too?
- What's going on?

Monsieur Gaillac is here,

and Hortense has decided
to ruin his evening for him.

- Now the boss is forcing us to strike.
- How are we supposed to earn a living?

As usual there's only enough
for Vera and Valentine.

Don't tell me
you regret being here, girls?

Imagine how much Hortense is making
out of our arses.

Our debts are not for settling.
She wants to keep us all stuck here.

So what are you going to do about it?
Have you targeted a sugar daddy?

A friendly word of advice.

If you get your hands on a baron,
don't let him go out alone at night.

What did her brother do to her
to make her treat him so badly.

Does anyone know?

Perhaps he put her off men
when she was a girl.

I can't see Gaillac doing that.

Look, the boss is just a bitch.
There's no point in trying to understand.

That woman has bile
flowing through her veins.

Still, her brother scares
the shit out of her.

She acts tough
but she's crapping herself.

Give it two hours
and she'll cave in.

Do you want to bet?

Where do you think you're going?

What did I say?

I haven't asked for any leave.
I just want to pay off my debts.

I'm not far off it.
I don't want to stay here forever.

So suddenly you're over-zealous?

What don't you tell me
what's really on our mind?

What the hell is that?

Don't let clients damage you,
do you hear me?

Who was it?

Franson.

Those artists can be so perverted.

Does Marguerite know?

Tell me if it happens again, all right?

Well?

What's so interesting downstairs?
Is it the Prefect?

Or perhaps
you were just trying to annoy me.

Was it you who put this on my desk?

The fact that you've guessed
means you know who I am.

It's more than I know the other girls.

Why are you so interested in her?

Floriane is my mother.

Your mother?
Whatever makes you think that?

- What happened to her?
- Who?

- My mother.
- I don't know. She vanished overnight.

I have never known why
and now I couldn't care less.

And yet you loved her.

- I'm not telling you my life story.
- My mother's will do.

Now, you listen to me.
Get out of here, go on!

And if I see you downstairs,
it's the knocking shop for you.

NOW, go!

When was that? 1865? 1866?

What was that man's name?

He looked like a character from a play
by Corneille, somewhat severe.

He was Prefect of the Seine region.

Ger... Gernet...

- Gerval.
- Gervall That's right.

That's right,
he did hold the post around 1865.

- A charming man.
- You think so? I hate him.

He works in industry now.

Didn't you find him vulgar,
especially around women?

Vulgarity isn't always disagreeable,
you know.

My dear Véra!

I shall tell him that
I have met an exquisite woman.

Why don't we go to the Chabanais?

I was only joking. Another glass?

My dear Valentine,
you're not very willing to share tonight.

Véra?

I need you.

I am in charge
of a major building project,

and yet I can't even organise
an evening in my own brothel.

I like it when you need me.

See to it that Edgar chooses me
for the fresco.

It's a deal.

- How could you do this to me?
- But...

- I thought I'd be able to warn you.
- Well, you've gone and done it now.

Now your brother gets
to plug me all night for free.

- No! I don't want him touching you.
- You should've thought of that.

Wait! Go upstairs to your room
and I'll find a solution.

What about Valentine?

Your brother wants Edgar to choose me
as his model for his opera-house fresco.

- What does he want in exchange?
- Don't you think I'm beautiful enough?

I know my brother.

- You must avert disaster tonight.
- No.

The main foyer of the opera house.
Can you imagine?

One day my daughter will be able
to take her daughter to the ballet,

show her the fresco
and talk about me in a different light.

Don't you see?

Again? I don't believe it.

I want Angéle frisked.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Ladies?

You've got five minutes
to tart yourselves up.

- What?
- Sorry?

- Five minutes.
- We've only just come back upstairs!

Marguerite!

It is late, my dear friend.
This visit hasn't been particularly tiring.

But tomorrow threatens
to be a long day.

Can you get a second opinion
on the land to the south?

I can't grant you authorisation
without one.

Haven't you been promised one?

Ah, the ladies are back.

That's her, isn't it?

News of Blondin's exploits
has been doing the rounds.

Yes. That's her, yes.

Rose.

Thank you, but an old man like me
isn't worthy of such honours.

It's time I went home.
Don't look at me like that, Gaillac.

You don't need
to make me debauched

for us to have
a good working relationship.

Anyway, you know
my taste in erotica, don't you?

- I'll see you out.
- That would only embarrass me.

Enjoy your evening.
I see you are quite taken with that siren.

Rose? Rose!

Coming?

You were less embarrassed
when you were persuading me

to lose my virginity to Blondin.

Are you troubled by intimacy
with all women or just with harlots?

You are such an experienced man.
I find it hard to understand.

I was told you were a melancholic girl.

I find your attitude reassuring.

My attitude?

You haven't seen anything yet,

or touched anything,

or felt anything.

What are you trying to do?

To prove to you that
you still have things to discover.

I make a point
of not confusing my roles.

A real client would never
make a good boss.

Don't you want me?

Then say so.

What exactly do you want?

My buttocks?

I've seen you admiring my buttocks.

Your sister wants to see you.

She's waiting for you in the park.

You can go. I'll cover for you.

She's fine. Don't worry.

It's me who's not fine.

I'm the victim of a blackmailer.

His name is Michel.

He's a neighbour.

He is a widow,
very fragile, a musician.

I thought I was helping him
get over the death of his wife.

We got into the habit
of speaking to one another.

My husband was wary of him,
but he seemed so despairing.

He has a child
and he thought he should remarry.

Is he ugly, poor?

- He doesn't have much money, but...
- He's attractive.

- Yes. He was convinced otherwise.
- And he needed your reassurance?

A little.

- With loving gestures?
- No!

I wrote him a letter.

He's threatening to show the letter
to my husband.

Lucien would never forgive me.
And Jeanne...

Leave Jeanne out of this, please.

What did you write in the letter?

Compliments.

Be specific.

"If I were to be given
another life to live,

"I would share it with you
and you alone.

"My love is a dream
and that dream is my truth."

- So you fell in love with him?
- I would never cheat on Lucien.

Getting your leg over might've been
a better idea than a written declaration.

How much is he asking for?

300 francs,
in exchange for the letter.

I know...

Come on.

This is a Gontier de Béziers.

You should get
at least 50 francs for it.

Given to me by a Lombard prince,

one before and
one after love-making.

Make sure you get
at least 50 for them, too.

Given to his sister, Pauline,
by Bonaparte in 1803.

- No, I can't.
- I don't give a damn about Pauline.

If he'd given them to Josephine
that would be a different matter.

No less than 100 francs.
Do you hear me?

All right.

There.

That will have to do
for your swindler.

You need to make
one thing clear to him.

What's that?

That if he dares approach you,
your husband or Jeanne again,

you'll have both his hands cutoff.

What are you talking about?

- Do you read the newspapers?
- Sometimes.

Does the name Gaston Lupin
mean anything to you?

He's a thug from Montrouge.

- He's a friend of mine.
- Really?

One word from me and your sweetheart
will have to lick his arse clean.

Thank you, Véra.

It's not that simple, Renée.

All right.

You can see Jeanne.

I have no intention
of trying to be her mother.

Then I hope she will come
to love you as a friend.

- Stop behaving as if you...
- As if I own the place?

- Will we be seeing you tonight?
- No.

I need to stay here
and run your brothel.

Hortense...

I'm asking you not to forget
what unites us both.

I'm not asking you to forget
the terrible things that happened.

I left when you asked me to.

But now I'm back.

- And I need you.
- What is it that you want?

- I have arranged to see my lawyer.
- So?

So the Paradis will soon be yours.

I'm not asking you to forgive me.
I know that's impossible.

I'm not asking you to forget.

I'm just asking you
to give me another chance.

One last chance.

I was a different man back then.

I was mad.

I abhor the man that I was
as much as you do.

One day early, and in person.

I'm starting to enjoy
being your creditor, darling.

You might not be my creditor
for much longer.

Once you've deducted
my outstanding debts,

how much are you prepared
to offer me for my Paradis?

Madame Gaillac's house,
Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré.

Very good, Madame.

- I have. Look.
- No, you haven't.

- I have.
- You haven't at all.

- I'm going to have to take it in. Look.
- You're mad.

Whereas I think
I've put on a bit of weight.

- A bit, don't you think?
- And yet I never stop eating.

I'm telling you, you look fine.

- I'm skinny. That's all there is to it.
- You are not skinny.

We're all like that in my family.
It's a curse.

- Anyone got any tobacco?
- Here.

Did you come across a lunatic?

Véra, your minister is outside.

I'll be right down.

- Where are you going?
- Carriage job.

- Is Véra upstairs?
- She's just coming down.

What's got into you?

Everything's about to change,
my darling. Everything.

I, too, saw the world
as an infernal cage.

- But now I have the keys.
- To the cage?

To the world.

To the world.

Have you seen the time?
You stay there. I didn't call for you.

For you.

And for your fee.

It's too risky
to keep meeting like this.

I hope our meetings will soon
no longer be necessary.

Have you given in
to Hortense's demands?

Is the Paradis finally hers?

Is that what you announced to her
this afternoon?

Didn't she mention it?

- She seemed very happy.
- Tell me.

She talked about the world
being like a cage

to which she now had the keys.

I love it when my sister regains
her youthful spirit.

- It's so rare.
- But it's most agreeable, isn't it?

A schoolgirl's heart
and a sergeant-major's head.

Yes, absolutely.

The keys?

The keys to the cage?

Or the keys to the world?

I think it was the keys to the world.

Why to the world?

She wants to leave.

Leave Paris?

To sell the brothel?

And pack her bags.

What happened today?
Tell me what you observed.

- She was out all day.
- Where?

- I don't know.
- Didn't you ask her?

A question like that
would have put her on her guard.

She wants to sell it.

I don't believe it!

Forgive me, but you have
considerable business interests.

You know anyone who's anyone
in Paris.

What do you care
if Hortense sells the Paradis?

At your level, the ownership
of a brothel no longer matters.

At my level, everything matters,

including family,

however small and strange it might be.

Then offer her something else.

If she had wanted something else,
she would have asked me.

No, what she wants is...

...to eliminate me from her life.

- Will you go back on your decision?
- I can't.

Well, then?

I'll have to think of something else.

- I must go home.
- You promised me two hours in the city.

Come in.

Sit down.

Jeanne's finishing her homework.

Geometry.

It's not her strong point.

You know Michel...

How did it go with him?

- I don't think he'll bother me any more.
- Good.

Thank you, Véra.

Here.

I didn't tell you the whole truth.

What?

I made love to him.

I hate him so much.

But I can't stop thinking about him.
I don't get it.

I felt something so intense.

I think I'm like you.

Like me?

Mother was like us, too.
I know she was.

Like us?

It's like poison.

A taste for pleasure.

I understand you, you know.

I understand your choices.

I don't do what I do
for pleasure.

But...
it can be pleasurable, can't it?

Sometimes.

Jeanne, this is my friend Véra.

Good evening, Madame.

We were at school together.

Right.

Well...

I'd better go and prepare the meal.

Can I leave you together
for a while?

Of course, Mother.

Stop, stop, stop!

Come in.

You wanted to see me.

Sit down.

Come closer.

Floriane was indeed your mother.

I hoped my orders would be
sufficient to make you forget but...

She was killed on 28th September 1859
in Batignolles.

As for by whom and why,

this sort of murder
often has no face or reason,

especially when the victim
is a prostitute.

I risked the disapproval
of influential clients

and sought their help,

forcing the police to take action.

On 6th December, a young artilleryman
called Jules Mathurin was arrested

on the basis of three
corroborating witness accounts.

He confessed to the murder.

Jules Mathurin was guillotined
in January 1861.

I only have your word for it.

Here is a certified copy
of the judgment.

Floriane's body lies
in Montmartre cemetery.

Your mother was strong-willed.

She liked to say that
she was afraid of nothing,

especially not men.

But I feared for her
when she said that.

Fear can protect us.

Sometimes.

This all came from you.

Every week, Floriane received
something from the orphanage.

She paid half of what she earned
to the Mother Superior

to get her to agree
to continue sending them.

You can keep everything.

You mother tells me you like reading.

Yes, I love it.

What do you read?

Mainly Latin authors.

You're cultured. That's good.

I don't want to know
too much or too little.

Not too much or too little?

Just enough to understand
without the need to assert myself.

Is that what you've been taught?

Weren't you?

Sometimes you need to be assertive.

- Really?
- I think so.

Then I shall take note of your advice.

- Especially where men are concerned.
- Sorry?

You need to make room for yourself.

That's interesting.

- Everything all right?
- Everything's fine, Mother.