“I should want more than that,” she answered.
I thought immediately that she had already been in the arms of a real lover, and that she was alluding to the male's approach in its entirety, and resolved to let my pent-up desire have full vent. So I told her how I had long since yearned for her and reminded her of my little attempts to approach her. She quite understood that if I had returned to Sonis again and again, it was for her and her only. So I soon extracted from her a half-promise that she would come to me one day in Paris, and I was to correspond with her in a feigned lady's handwriting, as neither Papa nor Mamma tampered with her letters as long as the envelopes seemed to betray a female correspondent, who might be a customer. I then asked for the promised kiss, but explained that I did not want a silly, grandmotherly pressure of the lips.
“I want a real French kiss,” I said.
She laughed. I guessed she understood.
I simply thought that here was a young person fresh from the workroom of a milliner of the rue de la Paix, who probably had already been enjoyed by a man, without counting possible Lesbian approaches of her companions, and thus I grew bolder and bolder. We returned home and, nearing the kitchen, which was in the basement, we passed through a lobby where there was hardly any light.
“How dark it is here!” whispered Lilian, and I immediately turned round and clasped her in my arms. My lips were on her mouth at once-the mouth I had longed for two years and more-and to my delight I felt her cool, moist, pointed tongue slowly insert itself between my willing lips and join mine. It was an enchanting embrace. I felt such a shudder of longing lust rush through my veins as I have never felt before or since, and I believe I shall never forget Lilian's first kiss.
LILIAN TO JACK.
Sonis-sur-Marne. October 20, 1897.
My dear Mr. S.,
You must think I am a little humbug by not having received an answer to your charming letter, but really it is no fault of mine.
I have much to do this week and in spite of my great desire, it has been impossible for me to get away for the whole of one afternoon.
When I meet you, I should wish to have enough time not to run away directly after I arrive. I am certain that we shall have much to say to each other.
Will you let me come to you Thursday week? If yes, I shall be in Paris at 2:30. Do not wait for me at the Gare d l'Est, but tell me yourself the place where I am to find you. I am too ignorant to fix a rendezvous myself.
I hope to have a word from you shortly. Awaiting a reply, please accept the assurance of my most lively sympathy,
LILIAN.
LILIAN TO JACK.
Sonis-sur-Marne. October 26, 1897.
As I know my dear Marie is very amiable, I ask her to kindly await me next Thursday, so that I shall not have to ask the concierge about… you?
I can see you smile, but what would you have?… I cannot surmount a certain feeling of timidity.
I have to go to London, Friday or Saturday, but this will not prevent me keeping the appointment, for-must I confess it? — I await next Thursday with immense impatience!
Soon I shall have the pleasure of teasing you and listening to all the silly things you talk about in your last note,
LILIAN.
Lilian was acquainted with a young woman about her own age, whose Christian name was Charlotte, and who was employed in a firm of some importance in Paris. They sold lace, and Charlotte's uncle was at the head of the firm, I think. Anyhow, Charlotte occupied a certain position in the business, and as a person of confidence was required to visit London yearly in the autumn. It had been arranged that Lilian should accompany Charlotte and talk the necessary English. Lilian had already done this journey the year before and the two families were friendly. All Mademoiselle Arvel's expenses were defrayed, and she received one hundred francs for each week she stopped in London. It was generally a fortnight or three weeks until all the customers had been visited. Lilian was delighted, as she could thus see her brother Raoul, of whom she appeared to be very fond.
LILIAN TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. Thursday, October 27, 1897.
Here are all our, or so to speak more correctly, all my beautiful castles in the air demolished. I am really unlucky, I, who was full of such great joy at the idea of seeing you tomorrow, to be able to tell you, perhaps even to prove to you that a certain person not only seems to like you and interests herself in all you do, but that she really loves you.
But to return to the real reason of this letter. I am kept a prisoner by a severe cold.2 Impossible to go out. If you will allow me and if it does not worry you, I will give you an appointment for next week, unless I have to go to London on Saturday. In that case, I will write immediately when I return. It seems as if everything was against me just now. I hope you will think of the poor little invalid, who is always thinking of you.
LILIAN.
LILIAN TO JACKY.
London. November 2, 1897.
I am here since Saturday evening and I already wish to be back again. No, decidedly, I shall never get used to London! All is sad and dull. The women look like machines on springs and the men seem to be running as if pursued. Nowhere is there to be seen the grace of true Parisienne. I hope you will not be vexed at my frankness. I ought not to say what I think of your fellow countrymen, and yet in my eyes you are so unlike most Englishmen. At any rate, you only have their qualities. Thus having all English and French qualities, you must consequently be perfect. Still I confess that my hope is that I shall not find you so. What a bore a man must be who possesses every virtue!
No, I really do not know what I ought to bring you back from London, but you have only to make a sign and if it will give you the least pleasure, I shall only be too happy to do it.
I hope to be at Sonis for the end of next week. It is useless for me to tell you that as soon as I am free I shall write to you to ask if you still have the same wish for me. I have not quite got over my cold. Thanks for kind advice.
This letter carries to you a kiss as soft and as sweet as you can possibly desire.
LILIAN.
Strange to say there was no address on this letter from London, so that I could not answer it.
LILIAN TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. November 16, 1897.
Once more I am near you. According to my promise, and for my own pleasure, I quickly write to you. I shall be free any day you like next week. To you, my dear confidant, I may tell the little trouble I had on the eve of my departure from London. I lost a five-pound note. Am I not unlucky? But I weary you with all my stories, so I leave you, but expect a line in return.
Soon I hope to see you.
LILIAN.
I did not like this letter, and my growing passion, from fever heat fell to freezing point. Was this the missive to receive on the eve of a young girl's first appointment? It smacked of the professional. Did she want to sell herself? I resolved to have no more to do with her, and despite the agony of disillusion, I answered as follows:
JACKY TO LILIAN.
Paris. Thursday, November 18, 1897.
My dear Lilian,
I am very pleased to hear you have safely returned from your journey and that you are in good health.
I was not able to answer your letter from London, for you forgot to give me your address.
You are very kind in letting me know that you can come and say “how d'ye do” to me next week, and I should like to fix a day, but unfortunately I am forced to go away on Monday, having something to do in another country.
I am very sorry to hear of your trouble, but I hope things will right themselves. We are neither of us very lucky.