PROUST   What? No, no. One death means more than a thousand. When men are dying like flies, that is what they are dying like.

CÉLESTE   A jumper round your shoulders, perhaps?

PROUST   No. More coffee perhaps.
Céleste goes out.

PRINCESS   She’s very impressive.

PROUST   A gem. She’s from the country. Auxillac in the Lozère.

PRINCESS   She adores you, obviously.

PROUST   When she first came I had to explain that Napoleon and Bonaparte were the same person.
The Princess and Morand laugh.

INT. PROUST’S APARTMENT. SALON. NIGHT.

Céleste crosses the salon, carrying a coffee pot.

INT. PROUST’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

The Princess, Morand and Proust are laughing as Céleste returns.

PROUST   Ah. The beautiful Céleste.
It is plain Céleste knows she has been talked about.
This ensuing conversation is background, the camera concentrating on Céleste.
I had a delightful young man here the other day, a musician.
He plays in the Quattuor Poulet.

MORAND   I don’t know them.

PROUST   They’re the leading exponents of Franck and Debussy.

PRINCESS   I don’t know Franck.

PROUST   He’s in the army.

PRINCESS   Franck?

PROUST   The young man. He can only play when on leave. Such a waste.

MORAND   He played here?

PROUST   They all did. They said their music had never sounded as well. The acoustics are superb.

MORAND   The food isn’t bad either.

PROUST   Céleste. Monsieur Morand is paying you a compliment.

CÉLESTE   Monsieur.

PROUST   Music seems to be playing a bigger part in the novel than I had originally envisaged. But I have so much to do.

MORAND   We must be going.
Morand gets up.
Mix to:

INT. PROUST’S APARTMENT. HALL. NIGHT.

Poulet, Ruyssen and Gentil are sitting waiting in the hall, with Céleste standing guard.

Gentil is in evening dress.

GENTIL   I was depping at the Opera.

POULET   Where were you?

RUYSSEN   Bed. Again.
He is still half-asleep.

POULET   While we’re waiting for Monsieur Massis, perhaps we could warm up by playing Monsieur Proust a trio?
Céleste, expressionless, disappears.

INT. PROUST’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

Proust is sitting on his bed, working.

CÉLESTE   There are only three of them, monsieur. The other one’s on his way.

PROUST   Which one?

CÉLESTE   The one with the big violin. They wondered if you wanted them to play you a trio.

PROUST   A trio? No. No. Trio. No use to me.
He goes on working.

INT. PROUST’S APARTMENT. HALL. NIGHT.

The doorbell rings.

Poulet opens the door, but Céleste appears and Poulet falls back apologetically.

Céleste takes over.

It is Massis, with his stick.

MASSIS   Sorry.

POULET   Where were you? We tried Isabel.

MASSIS   What! I told her I was practising with you.

RUYSSEN   Who were you practising with?
Massis smiles.

CÉLESTE   When you’re ready, gentlemen.
She goes.

GENTIL   You wouldn’t last five minutes with her.

MASSIS   I wouldn’t want to.