Affectionate sympathy from your friend.
MARIE.
This last note crossed one from Papa, as follows:
ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.
Sonis-sur-Marne. November 18, 1897.
Dear Jacky,
If you have nothing better to do, the ladies would be glad to see you tomorrow at eleven, to give your valued opinion as to the merits of a turbot fresh from England and a hen pheasant. I shall be at my office in the rue Vissot until 10:15 tomorrow morning, and then I shall take the train for home.
Hoping you are all well at home, and asking you to remember me to everybody, believe me to remain,
Yours very truly,
ERIC ARVEL.
November 19, 1897.
I kept the appointment with Papa and he informed me that he had been in the north of England, but had passed a few days in London with Lilian, Charlotte, and the boy, Raoul, for whom, it appears, he had procured a situation in a big wine-merchants' establishment of the British metropolis. He was in a terrible rage against Charlotte for she and Raoul were engaged to be married, much to his disgust. Raoul was too young to think as yet of conjugal ties and Charlotte was very silly, and had no money, earning only a slight salary in her uncle's business. He was very angry to find she had captured the youth by her blandishments, and he hinted vaguely that the loving couple had stopped out late and left poor Lilian alone in the lodgings, which annoyed him very much. He swore that the erring girl should never darken his doors again or corrupt his daughter.
The day passed as usual, but Lilian was cold towards me. She had to go and see a lady from England, who stopped at a hotel in the rue de Rivoli and who always bought a few hats of hers whenever she passed through Paris. I asked to be allowed to accompany Mademoiselle, as I too had an appointment for that afternoon, and Pa and Ma being nothing loth, we started off together.
In the railway carriage, I once more clasped my Lilian in my arms, and found to my great delight that she was what I should call a natural kisser, reveling in long-drawn-out caresses of the mouth. Her lips seemed to weld themselves to mine, and I am sure that my dove-like osculation and the touch of my tongue round her throat, ears, and eyes gave her as much pleasure as a girl could feel.
“Your kisses make me crazy!” or: “Your mouth drives me mad!” were two of her favorite phrases as, when shivering with lasciviousness, she would tear herself from my embrace, only to put up her brilliant mouth over and over again a moment afterwards.
There was no doubt that she had no physical repugnance to me, for it often occurs that a woman thinks she would like a man, and when he at last takes her in his arms, something about him, his odor, his skin, his manner of embracing, his breath, nay, the merest trifle, sometimes rudely dispels all the feminine illusion. Lilian freely yielded herself up to the delight of being clasped to my breast, and my lips pleased her as hers did me.
She asked me what I meant by my voyage for the following Monday. I replied that I had business at Amsterdam, which might or might not be done by letter, but that I really felt great remorse and shame at my dishonorable conduct in making clandestine love to a young lady under her parents' roof, and I said that I trembled to think what would happen if her mother and father found out how I was betraying the implicit confidence they had in me. She replied hotly that her so-called father was a lazy, selfish, bad-tempered man, who cared not a jot for her or her future. And her mother was wrapped up in him and herself. They forced her to contribute one hundred francs a month for her keep, whether she earned them or not, and she was not happy at home. She could not understand the change in my conduct. I took her tenderly in my arms and told her that all my scruples vanished now that I felt her clinging to me, and the kisses of her soft and voluptuous mouth made me forget duty, honor, everything, but the hope of making her mine.
My hands wandered all over her body, pressing her luxuriant posteriors, her thighs, which I found of proper size, her arms, hands, and neck, and I exclaimed:
“I know that Lilian returns the love I have felt for her for two years, although I am twice her age. I am happy now and care for naught else!”
And it was true, I was drunk with love, desire, lust, passion, call it what you will.
I made her unfasten her jacket, and sought to press her breasts, but there were only two little faintly-developed hillocks. Her cloth dress was closely fastened under her arm with hooks and eyes.
“You hurt me,” she said, as I feverishly molded her little bosom.
“I love to hurt you. I love to think that you are mine to do with as I choose, to make you suffer, if I so will it, and I'll squeeze your tiny breasts until you wince with pain.”
“They are small,” she retorted, laughingly, “but they are firm. Now I want to know what it was you asked me to bring you back from London?”
“I would have written in answer to your letter, but you forgot to give me your address. This is what I wanted you to carefully keep for me and bring back with you,” and I pressed my hand between her swelling thighs, outside her dress.
She hid her face in my neck, whispering:
“It is yours. I am yours entirely!”
Luckily, we had arrived at the station, and I drove her to the hotel in the Rue de Rivoli. I had forgotten all about her letter. I was oblivious of everything and everybody. I could only clasp her to me and caress her and kiss her, and kiss her again, until her lips were on fire.
But I did not forget to give her an appointment for the twenty-third. I was on good terms with the proprietress of a house in the rue de Leipzig, where they let furnished apartments, and where there was a little pavilion at the bottom of the yard. Lilian had only to walk through, without speaking to the concierge, and come straight to me, who would be eagerly awaiting her arrival at half-past two. With a last luscious embrace, I saw her go into the hotel and I drove home.
November 23, 1897.
I have just left Lilian. The day was partially spoilt, but neither of us are to blame. I was punctually at my appointment and I had made the toilette of a bridegroom. I waited an hour, but there were no signs of her, so I left in a rage, pursued by the sardonic grin of the bonne. I returned home and took off my finery, when I received the following petit bleu:
LILIAN TO JACKY.
November 24, 1897, 3:45 p.m.
Have just been to the rue de L. I was one hour and a half late, but through no fault of mine. There has been an accident at the Gare de l'Est and all the trains are late.
I hope you will excuse me and believe that I am furious, especially when I was told that you had just gone.
I am longing to see you,
LILIAN.
I shall only take the 6:45, from the Gare de l'Est tonight.
Of course, I was at the station at the hour mentioned, and found that her story was true. There had been an accident and there was a thick fog. The entire service was disorganized. The station was full of a seething, roaring crowd, and Lilian telegraphed home, stating the case, saying she should go and dine with her grandmother, who lived near the Bourse, and return to the station later, or perhaps sleep with the old lady.
I drove her about in a cab for an hour, which was all the time I could spare, having disposed of my evening.
We were now thoroughly familiar, and in answer to my eager queries, she told me she was a virgin. I did not believe her for an instant, but I naturally said nothing. I told her how I had made an elaborate toilet in anticipation of full possession, and she confided to me that she was very fond of fine linen, and that she, too, had put on everything she had of the best, including a black satin petticoat she had made herself. I put my hand under her clothes to verify her statement, and she let me place my inquisitive fingers on her thigh above her knee, but she objected that my hands were like ice, and I desisted. But I took her hand and thrust it upon the rapidly rising sign of my virility, outside my trousers, and she offered no resistance. I told her, with many cunning periphrases, that my lips would kiss every part of her sweet little body and cause her ineffable delight.