In her tight plain little skirt, in her light blouse a bit crumpled in her haste to dress, she was the very image of a poor girl, caught in the act, and making mountains of a molehill, all the more so as she knew not very well what harm she had done.
Nicolas Kozincko was silently gazing at her, enjoying her helplessness, willing to heighten her confusion. He understood perfectly well what was going on in Myriam's mind and prepared to take advantage of the situation for a few preliminary tests.
After a long silence he whispered kindly:
«Come closer Myriam!»
She stepped forth trembling, and stopped in front of the bureau. She looked at him and expected to see him rising and scolding her in that gruff voice he used with the labourers on his estate.
«And so, he suddenly asked, you're not content with bathing stark naked in my lake, but you must come here to play with my daughter at some little games which I hope are innocent?»
Myriam was shaking all over. “Who could have told him? Who had seen her? She felt undone.
She raised her eyes, dim with tears, and stammered:
«I didn't know it was forbidden… I… I was so hot…
«I suppose it's the same heat that made you strip in front of my daughter.
«She… She had asked me to do it… otherwise I'd never…
«How old are you? «I'm seventeen, Sir. «Seventeen, and you've never been out on your own, you never went to a dance, you never had a boy friend?
«Oh No!»
Nicolas was delighted. Such a hunk of flesh, so fresh, untouched… as yet. His blood was on fire.
What do you think your aunt would say if she knew?
She'd throw me out, sure, cried Myriam, she'd beat me.
Come nearer, come, I'm not going to eat you for Heaven's sake!
Myriam went reluctantly round the bureau. Kozincko took her hand, and drew her to his side.
«Shall I take you with Ghislaine in Paris, what would you say to this? She opened large wondering eyes.
«I…»
«Why! you, of course! Ghislaine has no lady's maid and you'd be a friend as well. Considering she seems to have a liking for you, it wouldn't be so bad…
«Oh Lord it's all a dream!
«It might come true.»
Meanwhile Kozincko was still holding her hand and played, absent-mindedly with her belt.
«I don't think your aunt would say no, he added, if I asked her…
«But I'll never know… she lamented, why did you choose me…
«It's very easy, Ghislaine must have a lady's maid, a pretty, sound, girl, like you… For you're pretty, aren't you?»
His hand was now stroking her legs, stealing up imperceptibly.
«For you're pretty… very pretty…
«I… I don't know… faltered Myriam, who was as much disturbed by what she heard as by the slow insinuating caress. His hand was travelling up. He felt her stiffening little by little, he perceived the frantic throbbings of her heart.
«When he reached the laces she had kept on, she started back.
«Is this much more wicked than what you did some time ago?»
His cruel eyes were riveted on hers, striving to crush any attempt at resistance, increasing her fear.»
Her went on:
«I need a very fine girl to be my daughter's companion. If you care to come with her in Paris, you'll have to be beautifully dressed. I'll pay for everything, of course. You'll have lovely dresses and the prettiest underwear… the same sort of thing as what you're wearing now… nail polish, lipstick, powder, scent bottles, everything a fine girl must have.»
Myriam was drinking in the tempting words. She'd be able to go away, to fly from her aunt, from the humiliations of her present life. She'd resemble the heroines in the novels she preferred. She'd see Paris, and know the world, she'd see the marvelous shop windows, she'd go to the pictures… It was too good to be true.
Yet it was all within her reach now. Still she was afraid it might be a cruel joke.
She felt that hand on her thighs, stroking, burning. She guessed it was wrong somehow, that he shouldn't have done it, yet she said nothing fearing to see her dream collapse.
Would you like to come to Paris?»
She murmured in a trance:
«Oh yes! I would…»
His hand sneaked between her thighs reaching a very secluded nook. She sighed faintly:
«Oh! Sir…»
He held her tight by now and lengthening the caress, he whispered:
«Good! You'll come, such a lovely little girl, it would be a pity to leave her here, wouldn't it?»
He felt her almost fainting under his skilful fingers and he longed suddenly to force her, here, now. It was plain she was as innocent as the newborn babe, and that he must profit by it, the sooner the better. She was very white about the lips and dared not look him in the face. Again he mastered his impulse, but he wanted to make the best of position. Keeping his fingers where they were previously engaged, he rose and without a word unfastened her blouse, he freed a breast, kissing greedily the tender nipple.
Myriam protested:
«No! Let me go…»
She escaped from his arms and stood helpless.
Nicolas Kozincko was gazing at her quizzically.
«I thought you wanted to come to Paris? «Oh Yes! I do, but…
«Now look, I understand what is the matter with you, but don't you trust me? I'd never do anything that's not right. You could be my own daughter… Are you afraid of me?»
She shook her blonde hair, regretting her rash gesture.
«No sir but it makes me shaky all over.»
Ignorant of love's scales of sensations, that shaking was to her a terribly abnormal phenomenon.
He smiled and drew closer. He no longer knew whether he was to go on and possess this naive virgin or wait for a better opportunity. However, he couldn't stop now. He wanted to feel her struggling in his arms, to crush her ripe lips under his. Such struggle!.. then her submission. He knew she was too eager to come to Paris to resist long. He knew he could dare and that she wouldn't breath a word.
He drew still closer, reading in her eyes a desire to please him and a conflicting unconscious longing to protect her virginity.
She retreated slowly, wondering all the while why she was so silly as to spoil her last chance. On the whole what arm could he do? He could kiss her, and whip her blood as he had just done. After all may be it wasn't so very wrong. She knew what possession was; at least she thought she did, she believed she might always fight him away if it came to that.
Now she was at bay, there was a sofa behind her, he was surely going to push her on it. She thought of her aunt, of her cousins, and concluded she shouldn't, couldn't and wouldn't resist.
«Well, little thing, will you go to Paris or will you not..?»
He stood in front of her, towering above her. She rose fearful fawn eyes and faltered:
«I will…»
Kozincko's mind was swept with a wind of madness. How desirable she was, that little consenting victim, ready for his use.
He bent over her, chucked her under the chin. Tears glistened in her green eyes. He clutched her shoulders and tumbled her on the sofa. A last protest: «Oh sir!»
He had already crawled over her and fastened greedily on her body. He kissed ardently the soft lips that yielded under his, while his impatient hands roved over her flesh bared her breasts, caressed the smooth thrilling skin.
Myriam was almost fainting with fear and delight under this manly embrace. She had never been kissed before. She had never thought it could be like that. And this skilful hands who knew so well how to touch, to madden her! Taut as a bow under the caress, she was still on the alert, her whole being refusing what she felt must come. She had closed her eyes to forget it was Ghislaine's father who was there. She fancied it was a stranger. She strove to be patient. Soon he would leave her, when he would have what he wanted, and then she could think of her marvelous dream, still so vague.