"That is all very fine, Julia, but what good are your petticoats to me?"
Mademoiselle positively blushed as she asked this.
"You made me wear them."
"Don't you want to eat between meals, Julia?"
"It's not fair to turn the tables upon me like this, Mademoiselle. I thought I was only-a-a-youth then."
"And now you find you are both that and a girl too-as Lord Alfred Ridlington will show you."
"Lord Alfred Ridlington! I thought you said Lady-"
"Oh, yes! That was before your adventure with Maud-you have been unsexed since, and I have invoked his aid instead of hers."
"Oh, Mademoiselle!" And I hid my face in my charming governess' draperie.
"Why, Julia, what has become of your aplomb? It is so long since you have been birched-by me at any rate-that I really think I must have recourse to those dainty twigs to enliven your wits. There is a lady asleep. That ring, I suppose, forbids your enjoying the privilege claimed by those who possess but one half of your dual nature. Come, I will remove it. Is a young lady to announce herself 'prostitute' in your presence for nothing?"
Mademoiselle made me stand up, and slipping her hand underneath my skirts, she removed the horrid implement.
She did not stop at that. She caught hold of Mons. Priapus and his purse and by her dexterous manipulation of both very soon evoked various inarticulate exclamations from my lips and an irresistible impulse to move myself to and fro in her hand.
"Now go to Beatrice," she ordered presently, "and do what you like, what you wish, or as much as you can-and if you want encouragement, let me tell you that if you don't forget your petticoats you will have good reason to remember a certain oak bench and my birch!"
For a minute I felt quite at a loss what to do. How much did Mademoiselle know? How was I to undertake such a task as she suggested with the girl I was engaged to? Should I blurt out the truth at once and say it was impossible with my future wife. And then there were Maud and Agnes. They might fly at me, Maud especially. And Agnes. I recollected that day in the wood, as no doubt did she. "Should he deal with our sister as with an harlot?" Beatrice had asked her and had made me teach her the exact meaning of the query.
"Go!" said Mademoiselle, and she stood up, pointing to Beatrice, and gave me a slap on the back below the waist just as though I were an infant in frocks.
I considered the subject no further. I felt compelled to obey, trusting to my usual good fortune for extrication from the mess. And notwithstanding Beatrice's threats, which I knew were perfectly sincere, notwithstanding all my apprehensions of the bondage I was perfectly certain was in store for me as her husband (apprehensions, I may observe, since fully realized), I was possessed by some strange infatuation for Beatrice which made me anxious above all things not to offend her.
What could give her greater offence than to violate her under cover of the card Mademoiselle forced her to wear?
Of course I felt naughty, but my passion was dominated by this reasoning.
"Oh, Mademoiselle!" I exclaimed. "You are punishing me, not Beatrice."
"Nonsense!" she answered. "I have not birched Beatrice. I shall birch you if you are such a recreant knight."
"It is immoral."
"Oh, no, Miss Julia! Love is not immoral. Perhaps, however, you do not care for your cousin."
"I–I-I think I care for her too much."
"And pray," instantly retorted Mademoiselle, "what then about your professions to myself?"
I was dumbfounded. I felt as though I had been struck.
In a dazed state I went without another word up to where Beatrice reclined and knelt down between her feet. I placed my arms round her and kissed her lips.
She murmured. I repeated the kisses. She opened her eyes in a dreamy way and looked at me.
"Oh, it is you, Julian!" she uttered, putting her arms about me, not sufficiently awake to know where she was. "I was dreaming. Dear boy, you may kiss me again! I suppose they have gone to bed. Where am I? What's this thing on my breast? Don't press it against me."
I kissed her again and she kissed me. I slipped my hand down underneath her dress, on to her knees, and let it glide higher up.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! You must-you must kiss me there!"
"Beatrice!" exclaimed Mademoiselle.
At the sound of her voice Beatrice started up and rubbed her eyes, leaving me still kneeling.
"Oh, I must have been dreaming!" she declared, flushing up to her eyes. "Julia, you wretch, how dared you take advantage of me?"
"Nice dreams for a young lady! Kiss me there!" went on Mademoiselle. "Where pray?"
"Oh, Mademoiselle!"
"And what about that card? Sit down again, Miss. Lift up your skirts to your waist-all of them. Statuo, 'I place,' Julia, pro, 'before.' "
"Why shouldn't I?" rejoined Beatrice. Desperately and with ravishing carelessness she obeyed Mademoiselle's injunction.
"There," exclaimed Mademoiselle. "Maud, Agnes, look at your sister. See how she absolutely gives herself up to the embraces of the first person who invites her. Wicked, abandoned girl. Go to my room instantly. And you, Julia, come with me. The heroine of the novel, a prostitute indeed! I suspected there was more than you wished me to suppose, Maud."
"Indeed, Mademoiselle," began Maud.
"Go to bed," interrupted Mademoiselle, "and you, Agnes, go too."
Beatrice, accustomed to the role of bete noire, went off without saying anything more. Maud and Agnes bade Mademoiselle good night and left me with her.
As soon as they had gone Mademoiselle turned to me with a certain amount of anger in her gesture.
"Have you ever kissed Beatrice like that before," she asked, scrutinizing me closely.
I at once remembered the night of the dance. I recollected the whipping I had from Agnes by Beatrice's orders for whipping Beatrice herself, my head under Beatrice's petticoats, I-
"No need to reply, I can see it in your face. And Agnes-"
"Yes," I replied, hanging my head.
"Maud of course, and myself, and Elise, and your mamma-every woman you meet in fact."
Now this seemed unfairly hard upon me. It was their doing more than mine.
"Go along," continued Mademoiselle, "to my room with me."
When we arrived Beatrice was standing by the fireplace.
Mademoiselle entered the room with an imperious sweep of her garments.
"Undress yourself at once and completely," she directed Beatrice.
Beatrice immediately commenced sobbing.
Mademoiselle opened a drawer and took out her jewelled whip.
At the sight of it, the culprit, without delay but not without protests, unloosened her bodice, her gown, her underclothing, petticoat after petticoat, her drawers, until at last she stood in her chemise.
"Take that off," ordered Mademoiselle.
With a deep blush of shame but no hesitation, Beatrice obeyed, thus saving her skin.
Mademoiselle laid down the whip.
I gazed at Beatrice. She was surpassingly lovely. Her confusion heightened her charms in a most remarkable degree. But pretty bashfulness and alarm like that of a graceful fawn were not her only characteristics as she stood there in her stockings and shoes but otherwise completely naked, a condition which the contrast of the stockings rendered more emphatic. 301
"Now, Julia," exclaimed Mademoiselle, "do not stand there as if you were moonstruck, gazing and gazing in that idiotic manner. Upon my word you will wear out my patience. Take off your cousin's stockings and then undress yourself."
The contact of my hands with Beatrice's soft warm full limbs which resembled the delicious plumpness of a scarcely ripe peach, communicated a strong fire to my veins and caused my brain to whirl. I was in a state of violent commotion and the tender glances which fell upon me from Beatrice's half-closed eyes, greatly increased my enthusiasm, making me fully aware of her own state. It was very evident that my execution of Mademoiselle's direction was very agreeable to Beatrice. She pressed her legs against me more than there was any occasion for; and it is these voluntary and gratuitous caresses which I have always found the most irresistible and intoxicating.