And then the horrible thought crossed my brain that Eric Arvel, in some wild fit of bestiality, had allowed the hulking hound to crush into the poor creature. He had perhaps, Nero-like, enjoyed the cruel sight of the disproportionate impregnation and in company of Lilian-who knows?
I feel these reflections to be insane, but I have sworn to sketch myself as I was and am. I wallowed in a slough of lechery in this house of lies and lust.
Before lunch, I had a long talk with Lilian and told her that her plans were impossible. What would Papa and Mamma say? She could not answer, or rather I guessed she dared not. She replied that I was no doubt tired of her, as I had written that she disgusted me.
I drew her to me and boxed her ears. She laughed and purred, as she always did when I struck her, and she was happy, as her olive cheeks reddened beneath the loving smart of my hand. But I kissed her tenderly and told her that she was silly. I was not disgusted with her physically. She was the most charming creature a man could desire between the sheets, but as a woman trying to get on in life, I considered she was entirely lacking in common sense.
At this, she seemed contented and we went in to lunch. The day passed off as usual at Sonis. Pa quarreled with Ma, and then romped with Lilian, and she lovingly caressed him, and I kissed her in corners whenever we could get alone together
Raoul's name cropped up and I heard that he had received a summons to join a regiment of the line in November, to accomplish his period of military service as a Frenchman. Three years form the maximum, but he, as a son of a widow, would only pass one year under the tricolor flag. Mr. Arvel explained that this was one of the reasons why he had waited to marry his mistress. When the boy had accomplished his twelve months of military training he intended to lead Adèle to the altar.
Raoul's mother evidently adored him and she consulted me openly at dinner on a very delicate question. The lad was earning a good living at the wine-merchants in London and the heads of the firm had taken a great liking to him. They were very much annoyed to find that they were to be deprived of his services during a whole year and had coolly advised him to remain in England and become a deserter. Both Lilian and Adèle seemed to take this as a matter of course.
To my great wonder, my host did not join in the debate. His face seemed a blank and I could see that he was perfectly indifferent as to whether the son of his mistress and the brother of her daughter, for whom, I intuitively felt, he nourished a passionate desire, was disgraced for life or not. The two women seemed to have no opinion on the matter.
My feelings were aroused to see the future of an intelligent youth thus liable to be inevitably and irretrievably spoilt, and although I did not know him, I spoke up boldly and excitedly, and pointed out the folly of allowing him to be thus ruined, banished, and jeered at all his life as a cowardly malingerer, for the sake of one short year's penance in a blue coat and red trousers.
To retrace my pleadings would be an insult to my reader's intelligence; suffice it to say that the ladies listened attentively and I won them over to the cause of right and reason.
Adèle seemed so struck by my remarks that she hoped I would soon meet Raoul and continue my good advice to him personally, for her sake. All this was in front of Arvel, who never moved. He only grunted with hidden rage.
It was easy for me to divine that he hated Raoul as much as he evidently loved Lilian, and was, I presumed, jealous of the brother. He did not care if Raoul became that shameful wreck, a deserter, or not; but would rather have seen him disgraced than otherwise. Strange anomaly if he desired the sister, who was perhaps his mistress already, for aught I knew. Inwardly he would perhaps have preferred Raoul to become an exile, so as not to be troubled with his presence in France.
I am proud to think now that I saved the lad from disgrace, as I am certain that if I had advised them to let Raoul evade his military obligation, they would have listened to me, and his mother's lover would not have lifted up a finger to save him, but would have chuckled to see him fall. Adèle was too fond of her son, and he stood between his two loves as well as being between him and Lilian in some mysterious way I could not fathom at that moment.
Just before dinner, I had an opportunity of being alone with Lilian, and I proposed to her to lunch with two friends of mine from England, a lady and gentleman. I did not give their names. She began by refusing, but I pressed the point, saying that I had promised already. She quite understood that she was to be a voluptuous toy for all of us to play with, and I could see she liked the idea, though she pretended not to. She said she would join us at the meal, but not do anything that was indecent. I retorted that it was then no use coming. She was to let me do what I liked with her and give her over to both my friends unreservedly for their lust.
“No!”
“Is it really: 'No'?”
“You will see!”
“I want a definite answer. Will you let us do whatever we like with you? After lunch we may perhaps all be naked. Say yes or no without prevarication.”
“Well then, yes!” she exclaimed, with a frown, as the affirmation came snappishly and unwillingly from her lustful lips.
Papa told me he had read The Horn Book, and liked it immensely. He asked me for some more, principally works on flagellation, and I promised to send him a parcel of books on that subject. I did so the next day.
Just before I left, Papa brought me The Horn Book, carefully wrapped up for me to take away.
This work was to have remained hidden at his bureau in Paris. I now find it at his house!
Mamma had gone to bed, I was alone with the father and daughter. Quite unnecessarily, Lilian put on an air of candor and said very slowly, with an emphasis on each word:
“What-is-that-book-Papa-you-are-giving-back-to-Mr.-S.?”
She spoke deliberately, looking steadfastly at Mr. Arvel the while he seemed confused and did not answer.
“Is it Guinea Gold, by Christie Murray? I have read that. It is very good,” she continued.
I changed the subject, but I felt quite certain by her artificial tone and by the stupor depicted on Papa's face at her audacity that they had perused the voluptuous volume together. They were an incestuous couple, I could have sworn it!
They accompanied me to the station and on the way I lagged behind and passed the parcel containing the book to Lilian. She was wearing a short tartan cloth cape, as the evening was chilly, so she slipped it under her arm. She was supposed not to have read it.
Now this was the first edition of The Horn Book, and as such was issued in large octavo size, printed on thick paper and, made up into a parcel, formed quite a bulky packet. On their way back to the house, Papa must have noticed that she held something hidden under her scanty mantle, and he could not have failed to see that when I shook hands with them on the railway platform I no longer held the parcel, and the pockets of the scanty covert-coat I was wearing were empty.
I was firmly convinced of their complete complicity and resolved to keep a sharp eye on them, but to say nothing about my suspicions to Lilian at present. She, however, had tried to put me off the scent by complaining that Mr. Arvel did not like her brother, and she added that her stepfather's temper was unbearable.
“Did you notice his horrible finger stumps? Does he not bite his nails dreadfully? Are they not awful?” she added, with an expression of disgust.
I supposed this was only her low cunning to make me believe that she did not care for him physically. When we were all three together, in the absence of her mother, she would pat him, and admire his prominent paunch, saying that she liked fine stout men. He would never answer, nor even smile, but a dull, blank look overspread his gloomy features. He loved her ardently.