I suppose I must have acknowledged the New Year's card by a polite note of seasonable greetings, as the above letter shows, and I was quite surprised to guess by what I read that I was still in Lilian's good graces. Had she not told her Pa? Or did they still think I was only an old miser; or at any rate, that I had enough for what they wanted, if I would only loosen my purse strings?
It mattered very little to me now. I looked upon the couple as a pleasing puzzle for my concupiscent curiosity to play with, and I resolved to follow up my quarry. I had nothing to lose. My great love was well-nigh dead. The lust still remained, although less. But I felt towards Lilian as a man feels towards any woman who pleases him; he desires her caresses, if he can get them, and if he cannot, he carries his manly cargo into another port.
I noted the success of the in-breeding mania. Here was a daughter of my Smike, covered by her father, and accidentally (?) coupled with her own brother, who is of course by her sire. To crown all, my genial friend wants Smike, the original Adam of the lot, to “line” one of the latest products of this incited canine incest.
I could not but desire to see what fresh developments awaited me out of such strange material as was to be found at the Villa Lilian.
I got the letter on Saturday morning, the seventh of January. I could not accede to their demand and go to them the next day, Sunday; the weekly day of recreation being sacred to my invalid companion, since I had left her bed about a year ago. And I was agreeably flattered to be invited on a Sunday to Sonis, as I knew that was the day when Lilian was entirely at liberty, the little workshop being shut.
I made up my mind to go at once and surprise them, as I knew they would be off to Nice in a few days. So I took the train after lunch and found no one at home but Mamma and the puppies. The latter were really very fine, and I urged the old lady to keep them, until they were two months old, and then sell them.
One looked exceptionally good, as far as I could judge from a six-day pup, and I was told that Lilian had said she intended to bring it up for Jacky. They were her litter, said Ma, and if they were sold, the money would be for her. My silly heart beat a trifle faster at this. So Lilian was not vexed. She rather admired my frankness, I guessed, and I felt certain she had some sort of respect for me and was fond of me in her own peculiar, hysterical way. I resolved in future not to spare her, but to treat her coolly and tell her, as near as possible, what I thought of her. If she liked to keep on with me, she could, but I did not want to play the languishing lover.
Lilian was in Paris, at her Father's bureau, helping him with some type-writing, which had to be done before his departure. It was arranged that Adèle was to go and fetch her daughter to do some shopping that afternoon. Would I go up to Paris with her? I agreed, and we went together. Mamma's conversation was all about Lilian and what a good, obedient girl she was; a splendid housewife, and domesticated. She spoke of her as if she was blest with every virtue.
I tried to draw her out about the affection of Mr. Arvel for Lilian, but she refused to follow me on that delicate ground, and I was too cautious to press it. Her talk was that of an old bawd, and I imagined that they all still had designs on Jacky. Mamma was very cunning. Under a veil of hearty maternal affection, she hid a deep, designing nature, and was difficult to get at.
I let her run on, agreeing politely with all she said, and cudgel my brains as I will, I cannot remember much of her conversation. It could not have been very important.
We soon arrived at the rue Vissot, which is a few minutes walk from the Eastern railway station, and found Lilian and her stepfather installed in the one room which formed his Paris bureau.
At the typewriter sat Lilian, bolt upright, visibly ill at her ease, and at her side, Papa, quite surprised to see me walk in with his mistress.
To my mind, they looked as if they had been indulging in an eager discussion, or making love. There was some heavily-written manuscript in front of them, but the last lines had been dry some time.
I explained my visit to Sonis, by saying that I was not free next day, having to go and fetch my bicycle, which I had left in the country, on the Orleans line, and could not lunch with them, but I had taken the liberty to run down and view the pups before the departure of the family for Nice.
I thanked Lilian in suitable terms for her offer of the pup, which I accepted, and she was very cold and over-polite. I was the same. I exaggerated my tone and watched Pa and Ma. They did not seem surprised, and according to their custom, they never interfered when Lilian and I were talking.
I was invited to dinner. I hesitated, and then turning suddenly round to my sulky love, I boldly said to her:
“Shall I?”
She started with surprise at being thus audaciously consulted in the presence of her father and mother, and visibly embarrassed, replied:
“Certainly-that is, if you like!”
So I accepted, and from that moment, I treated her purposely before her parents as if she was no longer the daughter of the house, but something higher-or shall we say-lower? And I was familiar in my talk with her. More like a son-in-law, but these shades of conduct were thrown away on the people of Sonis. They did not know; did not understand; and did not care. Or perchance, they pretended not to notice? But I was greatly amused and delighted to find that I had regained such complete mastery over my own passion.
Lily and her mother went off to make their purchases, and it was arranged that I should pass the afternoon with Papa, and go down to Sonis with him at dinner-time.
He rapidly finished his work and, to pass the time, began to show me some private photographs. My readers will guess what they were.
“You see I keep them carefully locked up. I am so frightened lest Lilian might see them.”
I chuckled inwardly at this ever-recurring phrase. It was perfectly useless and in very bad taste to always try and impress upon me that she was so innocent and had never seen anything obscene. She was in her twenty-third year now, it must be remembered. It was unnecessary, I take it, to mention a daughter's name, while showing obscene photographs or books. Is it not perfectly well understood that a father, tutor, stepfather, or guardian would keep such things out of the sight and reach of young people? Why this exaggerated declaration of virtue? Then he got out a framed photograph of a Japanese beauty, and told me for the third or fourth time all about her. The story was briefly that when in Japan, he had a native girl on hire as his mistress. Here she was photographed with him. Again he told me how careful he was to hide and lock up this little picture, but when he spoke of his wife finding it, I saw he was frightened of her. She was truly, madly, jealous, or had made him believe so.
I think I pitied the poor old chap a little that day. He was a slave to all his grosser passions. The soft blandishments of Lily and the excesses of the table-these were his delights. The two women had got him firmly fixed between them.
I felt certain, as he unrolled the very ordinary tale of his Japanese amours, that Lily had heard it too from his lips. He told the same stories always over and over again, and knew nothing of the world, as it moved daily. His brain had stopped ten years ago, and in a garrulous, purposeless way, he would talk to me of people we had known about that time, and so will you and I, reader; so will we babble on, when we get to live over threescore, and continue to indulge in wine, women, alcohol, and tobacco, until we are sans eyes, sans teeth, sans penis, sans everything.
We went to the station eventually, having first locked up the photographs, with great fuss and luxury of precaution, and got into a wrong train, which took us right on to Meaux. It was Papa's fault, and he was in a fearful funk. I noticed curiously enough that he dared not stop out after a certain hour, and he was dreadfully exercised lest the ladies should have arrived before us. Luckily, we caught a train back quickly enough, and there was not much time lost. We raced to the house, as fast as Papa could shuffle, for I noticed that during the repose of the winter, the pleasures of gastronomy had rendered him quite obese, and, to his gasping relief, found that the entrancing fascination of the Louvre and the Bon Marché had made the ladies late. We were home first, but they soon arrived.