I await an answer as soon as it is possible for you. I hope to see you soon, my darling little father.
I send you all the kisses that I should have given you yesterday had we been alone.
Your slave who adores you,
LILIAN.
LILIAN TO JACKY.
(Undated.) Received September 30, 1898.
My beloved little Papa,
A word in haste to tell you that Mamma said this morning that if I did not have fresh news and receive the promised money, she would accompany me tomorrow to Madame Muller's and show her that she must not make fools of people in this manner.
I tried to point out to her that I should then lose the new customer that had been introduced to me. She replied that under no pretext would she allow me to work for anybody presented by this creature. What steps ought I to take? If you do not send me tomorrow what I have asked you for, I think the best thing will be for me to confess all; that will perhaps prevent a scandalous exposure. I cannot let her discover that I pretended having received money from that woman.
I pray you, answer me quickly. I leave for London on Tuesday or Wednesday only.
I love you, notwithstanding all the sufferings I endure through you for the last two days.
My lips on your dear mouth,
LILIAN.
In reply to these two short, threatening notes, I sent on October 1st, a letter of excuses purporting to come from Madame Helena Muller, and enclosing a fifty-franc note. I received no acknowledgement, nor did I hear from Lilian.
8
And thou art old; thy hairs are hoary grey,
As thou wouldst save thyself from death and hell,
Pity thy daughter; give her to some friend
In marriage; so that she may tempt thee not
To hatred, — or worse thoughts, if worse there be.
DAUGHTER … To marry him is hopeless
To be his whore is witless.
Wear this jewel for my sake, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you.
I passed a terrible month of October. As usual every winter, my poor homely Lily was very ill. More new doctors, more demands on my half-empty purse, and to make matters worse, her temper, under the influence of her terrible, relentless malady, grew unbearable. She was jealous and querulous, and I always had to give in, as the slightest emotion might have proved fatal.
Miss Arvel had not acknowledged the receipt of the money I had sent her at the beginning of the month nor given any signs of her existence. I supposed she had gone to London, as she had told me, but I was not certain. Anyhow, she had not written and I did not know her address.
Lord Fontarcy asked me once or twice in his letters about her as he and Clara expected her visit, she having promised to look them up if she went to England. But I could tell him nothing. Indeed, it was I who asked him for news of her.
He replied that she had not turned up, despite her promise, although she had his address. He could not understand her conduct, or perhaps he did not like to speak against her to me. All he wrote were these words: “Strange girl!” And Clara, discreetly, said nothing.
It was very odd that in the preceding year, when in London in the autumn, she had written to me, but had forgotten (?) to give me her address. Here again, she is silent. Evidently, I was not to know where my love was in the habit of stopping in London when she was there with Charlotte and Raoul, and Papa, if in England, visiting the two girls daily. Did they think that I might take it into my head to cross the Channel? That contingency did not suit the party, or I should have been approached on the subject during the summer. I was not wanted when they were in England.
My demi-vierge was a puzzle to me just then. She had been a real enigma. I was very sorry I could not have her more often. She excited me dreadfully, as she never failed to do, whenever I involuntarily conjured up her image in my daydreams of lust. On the other hand, I was glad, as I could do nothing for her.
She wanted money and that money I had not got. Perhaps, thought I, my little lunch has caused a revulsion of feeling. I should have had very slight regret if she was disgusted with me, as even that might have been to my future advantage. But my passions called for her. In a sensual way I yearned for her. My common sense told me it was better for both of us not to meet again.
Her stepfather always asked after me at the Bourse, where I did not go any more. I supposed he would invite me if it suited him. I foolishly worried myself very much about Lilian and as time went on and no news came, I was, I confess it, weak enough to drop her a few lines on the thirtieth of October, signed: “Marie.” I do not know now what I said, but I suppose I expressed my surprise at not having heard from her. In my erotic cecity, for I can call it naught else, I had quite forgotten her last note, wherein she threatened me that she would confess all to her mother, unless I sent her the money purporting to come from the imaginary Madame Muller.
ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. November 4, 1898.
My dear Jacky,
When you know that I have had half-a-dozen painters in the house, several bricklayers and a carpenter and locksmith for the last three weeks, you will understand why I have remained so long without thanking you for the many hours of pleasant reading the books I returned to you afforded me. I wish that the feminine confessions had been written by a woman, but I suppose that the daughters of Eve can keep their secrets better than men, and if they do tell tales out of school when among themselves, they never find them written down. Many thanks for the budget of papers and the two packets of photographic printing paper. I have just had a dark room built, and if I manage to pull through the winter I shall go in for photography as a paving amusement.
When will you come down and eat the “côtelette d'amitié”? What do you say to Tuesday next?
With every kind of wish for you and yours, and with united best wishes for yourself from the Villa Lilian, believe me to remain,
Cordially yours,
ERIC ARVEL.
ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. November 8, 1898.
My dear Jacky,
Many thanks for your letter. I was sorry you could not come today but as we always want to see you sans cérémonie tell me what day will suit you best during the week save Saturday or Sunday. We shall be at home all Friday and probably Thursday, although on the latter day, I should be forced to leave you at two o'clock to go to Paris, to do some work due to appear in a Berlin paper on Saturday.
I am grateful for the offer of more books and I do not refuse, but I am going to London some time next week and I could not leave them about during my absence, so I will ask you again on my return.
Hoping that everyone at your house is well and that you have picked up again, I remain with every good wish for you and yours,
Most cordially,
ERIC ARVEL.
November 11, 1898.
When I arrived at the suburban paradise to spend a happy day, I was introduced to Raoul, who I saw for the first time. He was a handsome youth of twenty-one, with fine eyes, a nice black mustache, and a thick head of hair to match. He very much resembled Lilian, and had she been dressed as a man and her upper lip slightly blackened they would have been as like as two peas. He spoke English very well with a strong French accent, and I found him to be a very agreeable young fellow, but I had few opportunities of judging him. He seemed very fond of his sister and she had evidently some authority over him at that time. His mother simply adored him and spoilt him as much as her old lover would let her. He, I could not mistake it, positively loathed the very sight of the boy, who, in return, did not care a straw for him. Raoul had a sly look in his eye and when he smiled, his lips curled scornfully and sarcastically. Like his sister, he had an expressive mouth. He had a splendid set of teeth, but I was disgusted to see that they been greatly neglected, being quite green with accumulation of tartar. I told Lilian about this, and she thanked me warmly. When I met him again, they looked clean and wholesome, as a man's mouth should, especially when lucky enough to have a good set of teeth. Arvel was no father to him and his mother did not know. She was cunning, and sufficiently artful to pamper her old lover's stomach and put up with his tempers, but her intelligence was not above that of an ordinary domestic servant.