And now Vitnegre returned to the two lovers, who had altered their position. L' Enfonceur, after having spilled his seed upon the floor, had remounted upon my daughter' s belly.
" Ha!" said the infamous husband, " have you run your peg all the way into her? Encunted her solidly? Have you discharged? And has she?"
" We have both discharged," replied Timon L' Enfonceur.
" I am going out now," said Vitnegre; " keep raking her out while I' m gone. I' ll be back in thirty minutes. Don' t be alarmed by what you are going to hear. I have my reasons for all this." He went into the hallway, opened the door quietly, and began to shout as if he were kicking his wife about like a footbalclass="underline" " Bitch! Slut! Whore! You fuck when I' m abroad, do you! Slime! Fuck- bibbler! Ass- wipe! You screw, eh! Well, I' m going to the police, do you understand? I' ve had enough of this." He noisily opened the door, then slammed it, but before departing he whispered to the impassioned couple: " Wiggle your ass, bounce it, my dearie. Courage, L' Enfonceur, dig in, scrape the barrel clean." L' Enfonceur, puzzled, watched Vitnegre go.
" A nasty ruse, that one," I whispered to my daughter. " The monk plans to kill you, and Vitnegre is neglecting nothing to motivate your death."
" Save us," she said, terror in her voice.
" No, we' re numerous enough to protect you. Pretend to Timon that I' m about to arrive here."
Timon re- entered the boudoir. " Here is Papa," said Conquette. " He' s just come, thank heaven."
" Ah, yes," said Timon, " his presence will shield us, for I was about to propose that we flee from this place. But let' s wait and see what happens." Timon and I conferred. I pointed to where Connilette lay hiding and outlined our scheme, which he thought marvelous. However, time was rushing by. Timon carried the light back into the boudoir, my daughter and I hid ourselves while the young man and Connilette adopted an intimate posture upon the bed.
" Be careful," she warned him. " Keep your prick at a distance, for I' m in bad shape, my boy, don' t let yours balls touch my hair, I' ve got crabs."
Wherewith Vitnegre and the monk made their entry. The neighbors clustered at the window took the holy man for the chief of police.
Chapter Six
Now we are coming to some first- rate fuckeries, those in which my delicious Conquette Ingenue and my ravishing Victoire Conquette are to show their true mettle and whence they are to emerge seasoned veterans, making their fortunes and mine thereby, and losing thereunto a false delicacy and overnice scruples which always bar the road to prosperity. The regime I chose for the education of those dazzling creatures and their companions may perhaps startle the reader but, as in all other things, he would best suspend his criticism and judge only by the outcome.
Let us take up once again the thread of this charming story and turn to a few preparatory love bouts which will usher in the main ones. ' Tis the painting of sweet voluptuousness constitutes genius.
The first visit Coquette received on the day following her inhumanation and at the same hour was paid her by Timon. He found her at her pension. He recounted how her beast of a husband, finding her gone, told all the neighbors she was dead and buried. But he was inhibited from speaking freely by the presence of the master and mistress of the house. Now, in this same building, only a few steps from where I lived, I had a small room where I hid the copies of each number of my Annales, whose printing was at the time forbidden by the government. My daughter was to have her bed in this secluded place and was to sleep there that night – she would have been there already had it not been that she had recently arisen. The bed I had installed – for my own use, for my secretary' s, for his sister' s, his mistress, and mother- in- law' s – was a comfortable and generous fucking- couch beneath whose thick coverlets one could nestle very agreeably. Vitnegre had one just like it: he used to hide in it when one or another of his clients came to exercise the cunt or ass of his wife (he called her his golden- egg- laying goose). He didn' t like to miss anything of the spectacle and was, furthermore, afraid that a client might spirit her away from him. Apart from that, his lust was flattered by watching: he was mad about his wife' s feet and while she was being feelingly tongued by one of those buggers (they all adored her and were keenly to regret her loss), he would draw off one of her slippers. They were narrow and he used them the way another might employ a cunt. " Friends," he was wont to confide to his colleagues, " I have never fucked anything belonging to my wife but her shoes."
Sensing that Timon had a quantity of things to tell her, and that he was unable to talk where they presently were, Conquette pretended she had left a letter in my storeroom and that she wished to show it to him; having a key, they went down together.
I had just arrived there when I heard my daughter' s step, her muted voice, and Timon' s. I hid myself in the capacious bed. They entered. Conquette carefully closed and locked the door, covered it with the mattress padding, which prevented noise from being overheard outside, and they seated themselves near to where I lay.
" Ah, Madame," began the sensitive youth, " what scenes we' ve had! He discovered, I know not by what means, that I loved you – perhaps my glances betrayed me – or because one day when I was with him at your home and one of your purchasers was caressing you with his leave and his guise, he saw me shower kisses on one of your slippers. I thought I did so unnoticed. But he seemed until then to have been totally unaware that you loved me, or that you and I were ever acquainted. And then came the terrible day. He called at my lodgings. I was having coffee; it was three in the afternoon. ' I' ll never be able to depucelate my wife,' he told me, ' my prick' s too large. You' re a handsome lad. I' ve chosen you to handsell her, ' twill be this very day. I simply ask six louis for her hire. I' ll give them to her as a gift. She likes to buy herself trinkets.' I produced the money on the spot and we set out – you know the rest.
" After leaving you on that fatal night, I slept until ten in the morning. I went to my office but on the way stopped at your husband' s door. I knocked and heard two neighbors whispering together: ' It' s the confessor, so it couldn' t have been Madame they took away last night.' The wicked fellow opened the door – that atrocious monk was with him. A friar had brought the coffin, it contained something swathed in shrouds, and he recited prayers aloud beside the body, which lay in the other room. ' He' s a friend,' Vitnegre explained to the monk; then, to me: ' My poor wife has passed away.'
"' Passed away!' said I.
"' She died in the arms of this reverend father.' The expression made me shudder. The monk spoke: ' I did all in my power. We have taken all the necessary steps. She shall be buried quietly. Permission has been granted us to carry out the little ceremony. It will take place at about four.' I left. After my midday meal, towards threethirty, I called again at Vitnegre' s house. Two priests, four pallbearers, the monk and the friar carried out what I supposed was an empty coffin. There was no chanting. It was buried. We' ll see what happens next. I plan to watch developments. You are thought dead, my beloved. Will you accord me your favors? For you are free."
" My friend," was Conquette' s modest reply, " let me begin by thanking you for the important services you have rendered me. But there is someone else who has rendered me yet greater ones. If not for him I should have been doomed. Were I still in possession of my favors, I should bestow them upon you, but they are now the rightful property of my first lover, who, lying in concealment, discovered the plot they were hatching. He has just deflowered me and he made love to me once again after doing so. He is your single rival, but I adore him. His name, which I am going to disclose to you, shall prove in what high esteem I hold you, for, truly, this is a confidence to be guarded faithfully: he is my papa."