I think it was Miss Stormont's light golden hair, which, as she sat on my lap, was very conspicuously placed before me, that first set my thoughts rambling on the "wily Vivien."
A twist of gold was round her hair; a robe
Of samite without price that more express
Than hid her, clung about her lissom limbs,
In colour, like the satin-shining palm,
On sallows like windy gleams of March.
And then that glance I had just as we were getting out of the carriage, lit up by the fire of her hazel blue eyes after:
She had made her little arm round my neck
Tighten, and then drew back and let her eyes
Speak for her, glowing on me like a bride's
On her new lord, her own, the first man.
How well I could imagine Gertrude saying in her petulant way:
They, ladies, never made unwilling war
With those fine eyes: she had her pleasure in it,
And made her good man jealous with good cause.
And so I longed for this beautiful gilded summer fly. Beatrice was far away. Mademoiselle would keep. Gertrude might vanish tomorrow. I longed to love them all in her, and herself above all. I longed to possess the paradise beneath her petticoats.
My heart panted as I hoped.
I felt nothing. I thought of her lovely figure in its beautiful setting of close-fitting ruddy brown, which, like Vivien's samite robe, "more express than hid her." I listened for her voice.
But Gertrude was even more delectable in my opinion than Vivien. She possessed the latter's wiliness, limberness, lissomness, clingingness; but Vivien was something of a witch, venomous, spiteful, and Gertrude was not. Gertrude was a much more comfortable, robust, voluptuous girl with no disquieting airiness, without the subtle penetrating brain, too acute to be sensual.
I knew Gertrude was sensual or she would not have taken such delight in torturing me as she did. I know she was so, for she looked for some response from me. Oh! When should I feel my face between those soft, satiny thighs which had so long oppressed me; when should I feel my lips in contact with the fountain of her being, and know that she was expiring from the delight that I gave her? When should I die with delirious joy in her arms possessed by a fair prospect of being at last incarnated by some woman!
The door opened. A tall and beautiful parlour maid advanced to the table. Mademoiselle had given standing orders that no men were to come to her apartments. We had had a substantial luncheon before we started at noon. There was a large dish of sweet biscuits, three glasses, and two small bottles of Perrier-Jouet. The maid looked at me and departed, too well trained to give a sign of any sort.
Where was Mademoiselle? Where was Gertrude? How would she look without her hat?
Yes, Gertrude had Vivien's sweet eyes, but they were blue-hazel, and Vivien's must have been a shade of brown, she was so deceitful-a harlot.
Having concluded my reverie, I began to feel uncomfortable. I was grimy and dusty; and besides my condition in front (and I really feared the thing would strangulate), and the plug behind, there was something else.
We had lunched substantially at twelve, and had gone direct from the luncheon table to the carriage. Whether I had drunk more than usual, or whether the corset was tighter than usual, I do not know; but I longed to be alone, with my hands free, in a bedroom for a few moments. Had my hands been free, I think I should have risked all and ventured into the corridor, even asked that stately, distant, silent, observant parlour maid for a lavatory. I had not to wait much longer. Mademoiselle and Gertrude entered the room together. They looked fresh and bright.
"Julian," said Mademoiselle, "Miss Stormont will occupy that room, and you-you-are to sleep in the little one off it"-nodding to the apartment I had understood was to be hers-"and I shall place you free in Miss Stormont's hands. She has begged you from me till tomorrow morning. I congratulate you and hope you will prove yourself not altogether unworthy of the honour."
I flushed with delight, exclaimed eagerly: "Oh, Mademoiselle!" and looked with love, gratitude, and admiration at Gertrude.
"You see ladies can be kind sometimes," Gertrude remarked, looking at me with a look that spoke; "and as you are to be made a girl tomorrow, I have asked Mademoiselle to let me have what remains of the boy. But," putting up a finger, "you are not to consider yourself anything more than a boy, and"-giving her petticoats a whisk-"I shall treat you exactly like a child."
While she said this Mademoiselle undid my hands and gave me a playful pat on the cheek by way of emancipation.
"I am going out presently with Elise," said the Mademoiselle. "I have arrangements to make and people to see. We shall dine at eight here. Mind you are very obedient while I am away."
Gertrude looked at me.
"Yes," I said eagerly, willingly, "I will do all she tells me, all she wishes."
She smiled.
"Not too fast," she observed. "Remember that hollow tube; remember the faults you have to expiate; remember my little riding-whip, and your impudence to Mademoiselle in the carriage."
I own I felt a little terrified at this category. But to be for hours in Gertrude's possession, alone with her all night, what a prospect of intense happiness unalloyed. Suddenly a fear struck me.
"You are not going out, too?" I exclaimed.
"No," she answered, amused at my eagerness, "and I am going to stay here and look after you."
"Come, come, Julian," laughed Mademoiselle. "Come and make yourself useful. Do not stand there as if you were in an enchanted palace, some bewitched prince, and we two princesses who have captivated you. Open that wine."
"Ganymede!" uttered Gertrude.
Variable and changeable indeed, thought I, oh, Virgil, are women.
I opened the wine. We ate sweet biscuits and drank it. They petted and fed me. Gertrude made me sit by her, and call her "Mamma." That was the culmination of my bliss.
The disconsolate Elise appeared and gave me an angry look. She was laden with Mademoiselle's walking things. Mademoiselle had changed her travelling dress and looked more lovely than ever in her stylish hat and gown. She gave me her hand to kiss, nodded to
Gertrude with a merry smile. I opened the door; they passed through it. When they had gone some little way along the corridor, I shut it. Turning round I saw Gertrude reclining in an easy chair, watching me, and I was alone-alone with her.
CHAPTER 11
"Well, Julian?" she said softly.
"Oh, Miss Stormont, Miss Stormont!" I exclaimed, flushing all manners of colours.
"Miss Stormont!" she repeated. "What do you mean? What did I say you were to call me?"
"Mamma," I exclaimed, kneeling by her side, and, catching her hand, I pressed it to my lips, while she moved in her chair in a way I immediately recognised, intoxicated with the knowledge that I could give her pleasure.
"Yes, Mamma," she repeated, stroking my hair with her hand. "And now, you bold boy, you seem to be very much in love. Pray with whom are you so taken?"
"Oh, Miss Stor-oh, Mamma! With you-whom else?"
"In love with your mamma!" she said with mock severity, but moving again. "Don't you know," flushing, "that is very improper, very wrong, very wicked. Pray, what do you want your mamma to do? I fear you would like to commit incest!"
She moved again. Her legs were uncrossed and wide apart. I could hardly believe my eyes. She was plainly love sick. I became vain and conceited on the instant.
"Yes," I said, flushing the colour of a crimson peony. "Yes, that is exactly-"
She put her "lady palm" across my mouth.
"Go into my bedroom, you bold boy, and I will come and talk to you there."