"There," she remarked complacently, "your hands must be kept out of further mischief, and I don't see how they can get into it now. And you may thank your stars that I do not slip a strap through your elbows and draw them together at your back. I will do so next time. Get into bed!"
In my helpless state, deprived of the use of my arms, I accomplished this feat with difficulty. My hands were so rigidly fixed that I felt as if in a vice. The only use to which I could put my arms was to flap them against my sides, and that did no one any good and was ridiculous into the bargain.
Added to this, there was the restraint of the other bandage under my nightgown, so that altogether I really did not feel my own self. The sensation was quite novel, and I did not know what to make of it. I had much to put up with, for if I had made any sign Elise would surely have punished me smartly. I could have made good use of my hands. I wished for one thing to rub my bruises; besides, I hated being confined. Mademoiselle had not ordered it. I wanted to have free use of my hands. In my own bed surely I might have loosened that unnatural bandage, surely I might sleep as I pleased. Yet here they were, fixed so absolutely that I might just as well have been without hands at all. It was most unfair and unjust.
This phase of mind, these germs of rebellion in the land which the inflexible strictness of my fetters prevented from germinating and fructifying, were soon obliterated by the advent of a very formidable necessity bearing the endorsement of nature herself, one which was not in any sense of a sentimental character, and which I felt, as I turned restlessly on my back, would admit of no compromise. It forced itself on me relentlessly and with momentarily increasing vigour. The sheets were clean, so was my nightdress, and besides there was the bandage, before and behind. More whipping, more torture, more shame, more disgrace, more contumely, more ignominy, I knew well would be my portion if there was the least stain or the least moisture. And yet what could I do? I writhed and I trembled. The sphincter muscle was strong, but so were the opposing forces. I had not eaten, neither had I drunk much, but I wished I had eaten and drunk less, I wished I had not eaten or drunk at all. Of course there had been champagne between the dances, and there must have been some artistically designed decoction of onions in the soup or in the entrees, or in some dish or other to give such subtle power to this pressing demand. Elise had thrown the bed clothes over me and left me in the dark. But what would be the advantage of getting up? I could grope with my feet for the necessary article, but what use would it be when found? My hands were not at my service, and, in addition, I was tied up! In that condition, with the door of a closet gaping in front of me and its welcome promise of relief before my eyes, I should have been no better off. Nor had I even the benefit of the voluptuous sensation that this had been intended by my female persecutors.
CHAPTER 14
At least an hour and a half of this excruciating torture and fear!
Then there was a gleam of light outside my door, which shone through its chinks, and I hailed it with the un-calculating hope of despair.
Whoever carried the light did not pass the door. She came in. It was Beatrice! What a mercy! Her curiosity had brought her and her flat candlestick in on her way to her own room. Elise had told her she might safely count on half an hour with me, as Mademoiselle had only just gone to her apartments with Lord Alfred Ridlington. With Lord Alfred Ridlington! I had heard him say she might do what she chose with him, but I never dreamt he would be taken au pied de la lettre. Was she chastising him? I heard no sounds; yet the room was not so distant. What was she doing? Incarnating his love, his babies? Horrid thought.
"Oh, Beatrice!" I cried.
Beatrice looked very beautiful! She was flushed with dancing, her cheeks were aglow, her eyes sparkled, her bosom heaved, her form was dilated with pleasure, and vivacity shew in her every movement, mischief in her every glance.
"Oh, Beatrice!"
"Well, Julian," she laughed, putting down her candle and giving her skirts a whisk, "a nice day you have had; you must be quite tender."
"Beatrice," I repeated, "for goodness sake, for the sake of all you hold dear, if you love me, at any price-"
"Good gracious, Julian! Whatever is the matter?" she asked with maddening equanimity, calmly sitting down near me. "I know you have been smacked and sent to bed. I have heard all about it from 67
Maud. I know you spent the afternoon with Mademoiselle in her boudoir, and I have come to hear all about it from you. I know you were birched in the morning-a fine day you have had-your first too, but whatever can be the matter with you now?"
"Oh, Beatrice, you know you and I were friends from the first," I began, frantically.
"I know you spoilt my gown, you clumsy boy, at luncheon," she rejoined, determined to preserve her sangfroid.
"Yes, but I have paid for that."
"And I am glad to see you have not forgotten it! Shall I give you my own idea of the punishment it deserved? Slaps, indeed! One dainty soft one on each cheek! A nice punishment. Look here!" lifting her delicate leg and taking off and brandishing a slipper menacingly at me. "Look here!" giving me more than a glimpse of the paradise under her petticoats, as she lifted and retained her foot across the other knee. "Look and tremble. You have settled scores with Mademoiselle and Elise; now you have me to reckon with."
"Oh, Beatrice, do not jest, do not make sport of me. It is unkind; it is much too serious. It is a matter of health."
"I have heard of people dying for love. What is the matter with you-shall I kiss you? Will that do?"
"Yes! Yes! But first-first-"
"First what?" she enquired, astonished.
"First, unfasten me!"
"Anything more in a small way? Unfasten you? A fine time I should have then. No; certainly not."
"Oh, I promise, I promise, I swear I will not touch you. I promise to let you do me up again. On my honour I do. Unfasten me just for a minute. There's a closet near, I know."
Beatrice went into a fit of laughter, stopped, and laughed again; took out her handkerchief to wipe her eyes-laughed till she cried, and then laughed again.
"Poor boy," she said at length; "I understand now."
"Will you?" I gasped.
"On one condition," she replied.
"Any condition-any-name it!"
"Don't be in such haste. On condition that you give yourself to me body and soul for five years. Give yourself to me to be my absolute slave. So do all I tell you and nothing that I forbid you, whatever the consequences, Mademoiselle, your father, your mother, Maud, Agnes, and perhaps, most important of all, yourself, to the contrary notwithstanding. If you will promise this on your honour, perhaps-"
"Elise," I suggested.
"Oh, you are not so hard up as I thought; however, Elise and I are fast allies."
I felt like Jacob selling his birthright, but I glanced at her and thought I might have a worse fate, and the exigencies of the case did not leave room for much hesitation. She was a lovely girl. What a bust and pretty head, what bewitching hair, what grace, what a splendid form, what a splendid little foot and ankle to have on one's neck! But five years was a serious matter. "Whatever do you intend to do with me, Beatrice?"