I could see no real affection in Arvel's house at present. He liked Lilian in a lustful way, Mrs. Arvel was fond of her man because he kept the house a-going, but they all spoke against each other, as each turned their backs. And when their appetites were satisfied they started quarrelling, I suppose, as they quarreled before me without shame.
Papa had a rough, loud voice, and one master builder, who was engaged on the house, refused to come any more, as he said he was not used to being bullied and hollered at. Mrs. Arvel was a shrew, and could not keep a servant, and Lilian answered her mother impudently, because she felt that Papa was behind her.
Nevertheless, Mr. Arvel sometimes vented his wrath on saucy Lilian, too. He had told her on my last visit that women were incapable of getting their living. She turned sullen, and the black cloud came over her face. Her lips were blue, as she answered: “I get mine. Don't I pay you for my board?”
“Yah!” snarled Arvel, “but you don't pay any rent or taxes!”
“That would be the last straw,” snapped the damsel back at him, “ask me to give you money now for my rent and I'll be off!”
These rows generally took place just at the beginning of the meals, as all their nerves were unstrung by the pangs of hunger. As soon as they were warmed up by wine and meat, they all got amiable again, and Pa would pinch Lilian as she passed him, and bandy pet names with his mistress. I always sat by and said nothing, although Mrs. Arvel would appeal to me and say ironically: “Is he not polite?”
I often had the impression that I was lunching or dining in a pantry, and that the coachman and cook were having a tiff with their daughter, the lady's maid. But what cared I? I lusted for Lilian.
In answer to her missive, I told her to try and put up with her domestic troubles, as, if she ventured to leave her home, she would be ruined for life. She could have no idea of the career of a young woman alone in the world. There was no possible happiness for her outside the pale of social conventions, and she must play the hypocrite in a good cause and put up with everything from her mother, who, after all, loved her and had brought her up and educated her. I tried to give her an idea of the position of women according to worldly notions, and that is how I saw that the young lady who wanted to be kept well in hand, had been allowed to drift into my arms, for the want of good advice. Why Arvel had never put her on the right road was obvious. He wanted her for himself, although perhaps at that time he did not know what he really desired, or was powerless to judge his own feelings. I fancy that could he have analyzed the sensations that were springing up in his breast, he would have tried to curb what I felt was a fast-growing desire for his mistress's daughter. But he could not reason; he only knew that her contact warmed his sluggish blood; that he felt young again when he tickled her, or romped with her, and that was all he desired or cared about.
Her future, her interests, the ultimate end of such unnatural intercourse could never have occurred to him, or he would have behaved more decently and stopped low wrangling, besides refraining from discussing the mother's menopause with her. But he had gone still farther with the maiden, as she had told me in answer to a question as to whether Mr. Arvel loved her Mamma or not:
“Oh, not much! Ma tells me he never touches her now. He only proves his love now and again at rare irregular intervals.”
I threw all scruples to the winds. If Lilian did not play with me, she would get somebody else and Papa will be sure to have his turn one of these fine days. I cannot save her.
I began to tell her that I should love her more if she would be very obedient to me. I wanted to be her master. She must submit to be my slave.
I could wait no longer. I wanted her, and the promised customers were not coming forward as quickly as I wished. I, impatient to taste her sweet body once more, reflected, and thought that a little cash would facilitate matters. I wrote and asked her if it was possible for her to carry out this little comedy:
“Tell your people that you have heard of a bad debt-surely someone owes you a little bill? — and come up to Paris to fetch it. Meet me and I will give you a fifty-franc note. Go back and exhibit the money to your Mamma and give it to her if she wants it, saying that you have succeeded in getting that on account, and that you are promised the same amount again, to be given by the lady before she goes to the seaside. A fortnight later, up you come to Paris again and return home to your parents with a few louis more. Thus I buy the liberty of my slave from her mother!”
LILIAN TO JACKY.
Wednesday.
(No date or place.) Received June 15, 1898.
My only master,
This time I will try my hardest not to bore you with all my troubles; I will keep everything hidden in the very bottom of my heart and only when we shall be all alone, will I, in the costume of Mother Eve-since such is your will and pleasure-open the corner of my heart which holds all that causes my tears. Thank you for the promptitude with which you answered my last scrawl. I have found fresh strength in your good and long letter. As soon as mother begins to be unjust, I think of you, and I, who have no patience, find enough to let her do and say all she likes without answering, or saving what is on the tip of my tongue, which always brings on quarrels. It is very hard all the same, and in truth I must love you profoundly to restrain my temper as I do. Evidently you are right in all you tell me, and I have decided to follow your good advice.
Your idea is quite feasible, especially as I have a customer who owes me money and Papa knows it. There is only an “if” and a “but,” however. The idea of accepting money from you is repugnant to me, since your feelings were wounded during my sojourn at Monte-Carlo.
I do not explain myself well, but you who understand me so well, will be able to read between the lines.
This customer I am telling you about is a certain Madame Helena Muller. She owes me nearly seven hundred francs and I shall never get a sou.
You must write me a word, telling me when I can see you. I will arrange to tell the story you suggest and all will be well.
I am free, excepting Friday, when I have got some ladies coming to try on some hats.
Soon I shall see, I hope, my too much beloved little Papa.
I send you no kisses; I keep them all for our next interview.
Your entirely submissive slave,
LILIAN.
ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.
10 Rue Vissot, Paris. June 17, 1898.
My dear Jacky,
You are overwhelming me. Many thanks for all your books. You are one of the best. Will you come and dine with us sans cérémonie on Monday night? M. is coming, and we can offer you a good dinner.
Remember me very kindly to your good parents and everybody else, and believe me to remain ever,
Yours very truly,
ERIC ARVEL.
LILIAN TO JACKY.
(No date or place.) Received June 19, 1898.