The Paradise

Four yards of the blue silk.

Blue! Why blue?

From now on everything must be scarlet and black -

le rouge et le noir!

Mademoiselle Clemence!

But you are asking, "Mais pourquoi le rouge et le noir?"

I answer, because of the passion that has taken Paris by storm

and sweeps all before it.

Hazard!

France is giddy with infatuation.

We play to see what we will wear today,

who will we marry today!

What do you say, madame? Will you hazard with me?

If you win, it is a blue.

If I win, you will try the scarlet.

Sam, you are my good luck!

Call a number between five and nine.

Seven.

Then I say

I will cast a seven.

Quelle malchance!

Sam, we lose. Madame will take the blue.

But please, not four yards only.

Skirts will be very full next season,

you have it from the lips of Paris.

I'll take six yards...

of the blue AND the scarlet.

And where can I get those dice?

Clemence?

At The Paradise, madame. Only at The Paradise!

Moray, mon cher.

Not that I'm not delighted to see you...

Why are you here?

Didn't you hear, darling?

I bring you the fever that is sweeping all Paris!

You bring me dice that can be bought at any French port

for five sous a piece.

And where did you pick them up? Calais?

Paris was becoming uncomfortable.

Oh, dear.

That doesn't sound good.

It is true what they say -

hell knows no fury like a woman scorned.

Her tantrums and tears were insupportable.

I wanted a change of scene quickly.

Et voila!

Clemence, you are incorrigible.

These, these are clever!

How many did you bring?

As many as I could fit into my valise.

I'll take them all.

Of course!

Now, tell me, how are all my friends?

How is Denise?

Yes, she's very well.

She's...

She's, er, head of Ladieswear.

Oh, no, John. What has happened?

You and Denise, you were made for each other.

We... she didn't think that we could...

Actually, Clemence. Do you mind if we don't?

Yes!

Please, Mr Moray, sir.

Mr Dudley says the customers are asking for dice

and we have none.

And if this is one of your famous schemes,

he wishes you'd told him first.

Thank you, Arthur. Tell Dudley I'm on my way.

Right!

I thought you brave to risk The Paradise for love.

But to wear such a smile when your heart is all desolation,

that is true courage.

Pauvre enfant,

I could almost love you myself.

'And you're sure it was her?'

Mm. Large as life and twice as French.

She's in with Mr Moray now, if you want to see her.

I...have to get back.

I'm sure I'll find her later.

My feelings exactly.

Women - unfathomable.

She loves him, but she won't go near him.

Whoa! You all right?

This place takes people like that, sometimes.

Let's get the weight off your feet.

Here.

Here.

Paradise...

It is paradise!

Not for everyone...

not for everyone.

Clemence!

I'm so happy to see you.

And I you, cherie. But what is it I hear,

you and Moray breaking each other's hearts. Why?

We do not want the same thing.

He wants you.

You want him.

Not in the same way.

I am his most prized possession.

You would be loved as you yourself love.

Yes!

But what if that is not possible?

Then...

I shall have to learn to live with a broken heart.

It is her! It is!

Oh, will we all go out again, like last time?

Just the girls to the Three Crowns?

But without question!

We four et la merveilleuse Myrtle.

But that is for later. Now, I have a gift for Denise.

And not just for Denise, for Ladieswear.

Whatever I tell them downstairs,

this is the true vogue in Paris, today.

Rouge.

Only the very boldest dare wear it.

But even those who dare not

buy it in case one day they should find the courage.

But women who paint their faces are not nice.

They work on the street.

Exactement.

So when Madame walks into a salon with her face painted thus,

and her head held high,

she's telling the world,

"I am who I say I am, let no-one else dare to define me!"

It is a gauntlet thrown at the feet of polite society.

This is not Paris.

But if there is anyone who can sell Paris here, it is you, Denise.

So these are not just a gift,

they are a challenge.

Your purchases will be waiting for you at the parcels desk.

As to the hazard dice you were enquiring after,

I believe they'll be with us later today.

Hazard -

a few hours ago, nobody's heard of the game.

Now...

I suppose that's the thing with a craze, eh?

Eh?

Arthur! Arthur!

Arthur, find Mr Moray

and tell him to come and tell him to come now!

But I'm helping Mademoiselle Clemence with her dice.

The dice can wait. This...

cannot.

You were up early this morning.

I was woken by a caller.

A caller?

On a false errand.

The person he sought does not live here.

But by happy accident I was able to do some business with him myself.

Is that damson jelly?

Perfect.

Is that why you are in such a jolly mood?

Sometimes, Flora,

life seems full of possibility and promise.

Apparently Mademoiselle Romanis has returned to The Paradise.

Clemence?

I thought her in France.

An impromptu visit, I believe.

I shall make sure to give her your best.

Who is he?

I don't know!

He looked tired so I offered him a seat,

the next thing I know he's...

What is it?

He's a sailor.

Yes.

But not an English one, that's French.

And this is French tailoring - the best.

Did he sound foreign?

I only heard him say three words.

Mr Moray, sir.

A French sailor, with a taste for fine tailoring,

and the annual salary of a working man in his pocket.

Quite a mystery.

Er, Mr Weston!

Dudley told me.

I met him this morning.

He came to the Hall.

He'd been... misdirected.

Er, who is he?

He didn't give a name.

Imagine a small group of customers, hand-picked.

Women who feel they can lead fashion rather than be led by it.

Now imagine a corner of Ladieswear,

dressed as a boudoir.

The woman who inhabits it has just stepped out

and may return at any moment.

Her scent lingers in the air.

On the dressing table, a bottle of perfume.

We imagine her dabbing it on her wrists,

her neck...

There's an evening stole, a fan...

..a dance card.

And in the middle,

a beautiful pot of rouge.

Beside it, a woman's necklace, carelessly cast aside,

tangled and tumbled with a man's cuff links.

Denise...

may I be excused to get a glass of cold water?