LILIAN TO JACKY.
Telegram, received 4 p.m., September 4, 1989.
Can you come at once?
LILIAN.
The telegram had been at my dwelling since half-past four. I had some guests to dinner and could not leave them. I had waited for a letter until Sunday morning before inviting them, and I felt angry to think that Lilian should expect me to be literally at her beck and call. I wrote at once that I could not run about to odd appointments at uncertain times at my age. I could not be her puppet. That she knew I took my meals with my family, and owed a slight amount of politeness to my near relations and others who were ready to dine with me at prearranged fixed hours, etc. That I had kept open three nights for her and she had not answered me properly nor given me due notice. In fact, she was not acting in a straightforward manner and I was disgusted.
This elicited the following epistle, which is ironical, to say the least:
LILIAN TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. September 5, 1898.
As ever you are right, and I agree with you that you should not be a puppet, especially at your age. I do not wish to disgust you entirely and if I have done so already, I beg you to excuse me, for I did not mean to, I assure you.
You require a calm and tranquil life and I can only do one thing-trouble your existence.
I humbly beg your pardon for my rudeness, since you say I am impolite.
LILIAN.
JACKY TO LILIAN.
Paris. September 6, 1898.
When one loves anybody it is always nicer to answer letters as quickly as possible. That is what I do this day in reply to your few lines received last night, though perhaps you did not expect me to write?
You ask my pardon? I bear no malice, I am not angry. The way you act has not failed to grieve me momentarily. That is all. Let us say no more about it. I have made up my mind for the worst.
But I forgive you willingly and from the bottom of my heart. And I find that this exchange of bittersweet letters is an essentially stupid thing. It is ridiculous to go in for essays of literary style instead of seeing each other and explaining matters. I accuse myself of this fault and this shall be my last letter.
Your conduct has greatly wounded me. I pity you sincerely, as I fully believe what I have often told you: that you are in a great measure a victim to your nerves.
Being so, you prepare for yourself a life of sad agitation for, almost always, people like yourself possess the peculiar gift of rendering profoundly unhappy those they love the most.
JACKY.
ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY
Sonis-sur-Marne. September 9, 1898.
My dear Jacky,
We are just returned from the land of “wurst,” and are anxious to know how it has fared with you at the place where you consented to bury yourself to get rid of every ache and pain to which you had to make so many concessions. I have to thank you for the manner in which, notwithstanding your absence, you have kept me supplied with papers, and no doubt when I get up to Paris tomorrow I shall find a lot awaiting me, as we have been away a little over three weeks. The garden has suffered considerably during our absence, from the dogs, but they are all looking well, so I suppose we must not complain. Lili is still on heat, she seems never to be off now. Blackamoor is, as you may imagine, very miserable at being compelled to play the part assigned to Abelard.
When shall we see you? It is so dreadfully warm that we are on the verge of starvation, as we can get nothing tender to eat unless we take to boiled meats.
I suppose your family are all enjoying themselves away from Paris? When you write, please remember me to everybody.
All here send their kindest regards and best wishes, in which I most cordially join, remaining ever,
Yours faithfully,
ERIC ARVEL.
ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. September 16, 1898.
My dear Jacky,
I was pleased to see you had returned home, but we all regret to find that you have joined the “Tiny-Tiny” division. I want to see you and have a chat with you, but this week I was unable to name a day, having all my accounts to make out as well as to prepare a long series of articles on the gold mines.
Name your own day this coming week, and come and tell us all your adventures by flood and field since we last saw you.
Believe me to remain, cordially and faithfully yours,
ERIC ARVEL.
ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. September 18, 1898.
My dear Jacky,
I am very glad to find that you are coming down on Wednesday. We will keep to the “Tiny-Tiny” principles as far as possible, and you can do as you say, put on your oldest and shabbiest “dog-trousers,” as long as you will let the bow-wows do as they like with you. I have managed to instill a certain amount of respect into them as far as I am personally concerned, but I have nevertheless had to copy your example and wear a “dog-costume.”
Come down early, but if you want me to tell you the mot de la fin, do not increase the many obligations under which you have placed the ladies by bringing anything down with you.
Yours very truly,
ERIC ARVEL.
September 21, 1898.
Lord Fontarcy and Lady Clara had passed through Paris and intended to return towards the end of the month. They were very excited at the idea I had formed to introduce them to Lilian Arvel. I think Clara did not much care for her own sex, but she had some notion that Raoul would be a like acquaintance for her, especially as her master would not be jealous.
I have said that I would paint myself in my true colors, and I must boldly confess that recently I had imagined a horrible project for my own sensual delectation. I tried to drive it from my mind, but it would keep returning in spite of all my efforts. I wanted to see my Lilian in the arms of another. I desired to give her over to the tender mercies of my two friends, I being present, and the salacious picture of this abandoned outrage excited my dormant desire to a point bordering on madness.
So I repaired to the hospitable Villa Lilian, determined to force my love to accept and play a part in this partie carrée.
I began to think also that Papa and Mamma had some slight inkling that we were lovers, and no doubt they thought me much richer than I was.
I was well received as usual, and I noticed that Papa was more tender than ever with his stepdaughter. She seemed to encourage him. I purposely refrained from paying any attention to my host's growing passion for the girl, as I was bent on the sole object of procuring her for my vile purpose. I gloated over this species of cold-blooded rape I was preparing.
The dogs were very troublesome, above all Lili, who Blackamoor, her son, was trying to get at all day.
Papa enjoyed this struggle of canine lust and I suddenly surmised that I saw a lurid glare of incestuous thought light up his ordinarily cloudy gaze.
The in-breeding craze, condemned by all true fanciers, seemed to agree with his passion for his mistress' daughter.
I must not omit a little circumstance that confirmed my views on this subject.
Three months before, Lili, the original bitch I had given them, had been in heat and, by the neglect of a servant, said Mr. Arvel, the enormous Bordeaux watch-dog had managed to cover the poor little animal. No one had seen the act committed and yet it was known to them all. Two months later, she had a litter of mongrel pups, which were dragged into the world by Adèle, and the poor mother was only just saved from death by tender nursing. Such a thing had never happened to me with all my dogs. I have always studiously avoided any mésalliance. I was inwardly disgusted. They had risked the bitch's life by their carelessness and worse than all, pretty Lili, after suffering in vain, was spoilt for breeding purposes.