When I looked at Beatrice's girlish figure, I felt I was a boy dressed up, and feared she would despise me forever. She, however, said nothing; but when I handed her a plate and upset her wine glass in so doing, Mademoiselle bade her smack my face. She did so with a severity that startled me. Whatever her real feelings towards me were, it was evident I need look for no mitigation of my punishment from her.
"You clumsy hussy," exclaimed Mademoiselle, flushing angrily, when the leg of that damned linen thing upset Beatrice's glass, sending the red wine all over the tablecloth, on to her pretty frock, and I stood dumbfounded by her.
"Beatrice, smack her face. Stand still, Miss, and keep your hands down!"
And Beatrice, with a half-vexed and half-amused air, who was rubbing out with her napkin the wine which had stained her gown, gently put the napkin down, and calmly stretching out her right arm to free her hand from its cuff and sleeve, she smilingly opened her pretty plump hands and looking full into my eyes gave my left cheek a stinging slap delivered straight from the shoulder.
Before I had time to recover she repeated the process on my other cheek.
"Resume your place, Miss Julia," Mademoiselle directed in calm tones, "and remember, if you are so clumsy again, she shall slap you elsewhere."
At this remark, Beatrice slowly lifted her eyes to mine, a little mocking smile playing about her mouth, and, by her expression, she plainly enquired how I liked the prospect, which prospect I can safely say I did not relish.
Quite cowed by my own awkwardness and its prompt punishment I sat down in disgrace and confusion, my cheeks tingling terribly. I should not at all have desired to be exposed to the tender mercies of Maud or Agnes, who seemed to be very contentedly awaiting an opportunity, and of the arrival of which, sooner or later, they evidently had no manner of doubt. And I am sorry to say that they were quite right as it happened in the sequel.
But Beatrice was the one who silently, as far as circumstances would allow, took me into her own irresponsible charge and whipped me whenever she thought I deserved it, or she had a mind to do so, at her own sweet pleasure. At odd times she gave me private instructions and lessons on various details as to how she wished me to behave and how to conform to the discipline I was subjected to. Of its relaxation she would not hear a word.
Thus it was that I soon found I had more governesses than one. Mademoiselle ruled by a mixture of sex and force-force which her sex made irresistible; but I could evade and escape her to some extent. Beatrice ruled by love, and her pains were sweet though sharp. My relations with her were too tender and too intimate to make it possible for me even to wish to elude her. From her I could not keep a secret, and from the very first she took it for granted that her wishes would be my law, and I tacitly assented. I had still a great deal to learn and have much to describe before reaching that period of my life to which what I have just written relates.
CHAPTER 6
This afternoon, which I well and vividly remember, was full of novel and startling revelations and experiences for me. I had no real knowledge whatever, nor did I recognise the character of my passions and instincts. Although now wide awake, they were then totally blind, and perplexed me with doubts and curiosity as to their significance.
Of a subtle and indefinable influence I was very conscious, but its source was still a mystery to me, and its sway a puzzle. The company of a young woman affected me very differently from the companionship of men; why, I knew not. I supposed Mademoiselle's hand had excited me only because she had touched and played with an organ of which for some reason I felt ashamed, especially in connection with a woman. Why the drawers and petticoats kept me in a perpetual and delicious tremor of excitement, and made that organ grow inconveniently and painfully large and distil in an altogether unusual manner a pellucid essence, I did not know either.
To think of all this in connection with the propagation of our race never once struck me. How the human race propagated seemed to me like one of those dry matters to be found at the commencement of geographies with the explanation of the seasons, the revolution of the earth round the sun, amp;c.
The pretty boudoir was trimmed and pranked with rose-coloured silk and exquisite water colours, until it looked a perfect feminine thing. Its statuettes were feminine. A bust of Omphale; a replica of Hercules in the Borghese Casino, in her clothes; an Aurora conquering a reluctant Cephalous, who was on one knee, his arms bent back in her hands, and his shoulders entangled in and imprisoned by pretty legs.
The high priestess of this charming sanctuary, sunlit, rosy-coloured, perfumed, and delicious, was Mademoiselle. Never had I seen her so alluring! She had promised to let me tell her "all about it" in her boudoir after luncheon and was keeping her word. She had given directions that we were not to be disturbed. She told me with winning softness that I had her now all to myself. My faults were all ignored or forgotten. Luncheon had revived her. Her spirits had lost that archness which had so disconcerted me, and she had become affectionate and gentle; yet I did not feel towards her as if she were my sister. There were cravings which unconsciously affected me but the magic secret had not yet been imparted and I was content to admire as I reclined upon the luxurious divan. Her masses of black hair had become loosened, and its thick rolls contrasted with her white skin in a marvellous manner. Her ruby lips and white teeth, her pink ears, and lovely head so admirably poised upon an adorable bust, dazzled me with their beauty. Her body was thrown back in her big dormeuse, her ankles and even higher being exposed to my view. She had been pretending to read, and was sipping black coffee, and petted me with cake and red Burgundy, rich as nectar.
When suddenly I called to mind how she had treated me, and what she had seen, my cheeks burned more than they did from Beatrice's slapping, and I noticed that the thought produced a strange medley of sensations on the organ violated by that beautiful hand and those taper fingers. I thought that some of my remarks brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks, but it may have been only the reflection of the rose-tender light of the apartment. She spoke in soft melodious tones, and although only twenty-three years of age, she appeared a complete woman of the world and entirely free from girlish ignorance.
"Now, Julian-for you wish to be a boy for me, and I will not now call you Julia, you have many things to tell me and here you have me in an amiable mood, all to yourself. What is it you have to confess? Begin."
"Oh, Mademoiselle, I do not know. Many, many things; but how to describe them is beyond me. I thought-I should be so wretched here, with only girls, and now-"
"You think you will change your mind. Do not be in too great a hurry to do that." 31
"You seemed as though it would be impossible to be friends with you, and-and you punished me so severely; but the strange thing about it is that it has made me like you-made me quite fond of you. I want to be close to you, to be always with you. I want-"
"What do you want?"
"Oh! May I say it? I want to love you."
"Do you, indeed? Well, you have a mark of my favour in the garment you have about your neck. I do not think any cavalier could bear a more distinguished or intimate mark of a lady's favour than her drawers; but, as I believe they are usually carried on the helmet or shield, I will, if you like, muffle up your head in them."
"Oh, no, Mademoiselle; because then I could not see you!"
"But, if it were not for that, do you really think you would like it?"