Lilian said she was happy to be nice and quiet with her dear old Papa, and I asked her as usual when we three were alone together, when she was going to be married.
“Never!” she exclaimed, “I am going to be an old maid and stop with my poor dear old Papa and take care of him.”
“And quite right too!” I heartily answered as I always did when this was said.
I was in the same state of sensual longing as before dinner, and I am sorry to say that my recollection of our conversation is slightly dim and confused. Lilian did most of the talk, and I kept the ball rolling as well as I could. I was panting with lust, and Papa seemed as if under the influence of some pleasant drug. Lilian was the embodied type of the bold, black temptress, as exemplified in modern cheap fiction, and I am certain now that she was quite cool, and revelled in the idea of sitting between her two elderly lovers, perhaps laughing in her sleeve at both of us.
Our broken chatter, as we smoked lazily, drifted to Papa's recollections of his travel in Japan, and he told us how the ladies of that sweet land of immodesty wore their light flowing garments and what they carried beneath them. This was an opportunity for Lilian to tell us that she had no stays or drawers on, and she rose, tightened her dress around her, and then turned about with her draperies pulled tight over her large and well-shaped posteriors. Humming a scrap of a tune, she waltzed in front of us two men, and after a few steps, again took her place next to Papa, patting and caressing him as before.
The conversation still turned upon the delights of Japan, and Papa said with a sly laugh, that he had been very dull all alone in that faraway country.
Lilian looked at me across her Papa and put out her tongue, not as a saucy girl might, but with a salacious wriggle of its rosy point, worthy of an experienced courtesan. I did not respond, as I was frightened lest Arvel might see me.
“If you were so virtuous in Japan, what is the meaning of that photograph at your
bureau
?” And Lily assumed her most innocent air, as she put this ticklish question.
I was delighted, as I always was when I found I had guessed aright, as I had done in January, There was an awkward pause, but I tried to save the situation by saying:
“The possession of photographs of women means nothing. I can buy pictures of actresses in Paris, but it does not follow that I know the ladies.”
Papa seemed really confused and to tease him, I suppose, or to excite him before me, Lily said:
“Oh, but the photograph I mean is not the portrait of a woman alone!”
Papa did the best thing he could do under the circumstances: he got up and left us, and as he rose, Lilian put her thumb to her nose and “took a sight” at him, much to my inward disgust, as I felt sure she would also turn me into ridicule with him whenever she could, and such low cunning did not please me.
“Take care what you do. He might see you, as when you showed me your pretty tongue just now,” I whispered to her.
“Oh, he is so short-sighted!” was her sneering rejoinder.
“I see you know all about his adventures in Japan!” I exclaimed.
She looked at me with well-acted astonishment.
“I don't know what you mean!” was her icy retort, and she leant across the still warm empty place, marked by the deep impression of her stepfather's body, and gave me a most luscious kiss, interrupted by the return of Mr. Arvel. He sat down again between us, and once more Lily's hand tickled and caressed him.
It was getting late, and I began to talk about departing, and looked round for my coat, and some newspapers I had in my pockets.
“I want 'Le Journal,' I used it to wrap round the bottle of quinine I brought. There is a story in it that I have not quite finished. It is very good.”
“I've read it,” said Lily, quickly, a smile playing on her lips.
“What is it?” said Papa, with a slight yawn.
I did not answer. I felt embarrassed and I wanted to hear what Lily would say. She looked saucily at me, and thus I was forced to break a nasty pause.
“It is about a father and daughter-”
“Oh, yes!” Lily interrupted me. “A father marries his own daughter!” And she looked at me with audacity, as she moved her fingers slowly on her Pa's cheek. I could not meet her glance, and I am certain that she was the coolest of the three of us. I felt most terribly lustful and would have given much to have taken her in my arms at that moment. To hide my voluptuous emotion, I busied myself in collecting my newspapers, gloves, hat and stick, etc.
The story, Le Lien Factice, is to be found in “Le Journal” of February 13, 1899, and relates how an old gentleman marries a young girl, and on the wedding-night, respectfully informs her that he is her father, having been her mother's lover, and he gives her proofs in her mother's handwriting. The girl's legal father had always been jealous of him, and had made the daughter unhappy besides, so, fearful lest he should be forced to quarrel with the widower, and therefore never see his daughter again, he had resolved to marry her. But he only wishes to make her happy, swears he will respect her, and as soon as she finds a lover, divorce from her, to let her marry the man of her choice.
“Let us hope that we may not find him too soon, Father,” exclaims the girl, and the story ends with that remark, leaving the readers to guess what they like as a conclusion.
Papa now made as if he was very fatigued and could not rise from the divan, and Lilian told him not to move and she would go and get him some matches he required to relight his pipe. She got up, and passed her hand lightly over his large stomach, her favorite caress to him; but this time her right palm descended swiftly, rapidly, and gently, and as she rose, her fingers passed over his private parts, which were distinctly to be seen, forming a vast protuberance in his trousers, which were tight and of a very light color.
This was done quickly, her hand trailing behind her on getting slowly up from the sofa, as if it was an accident.
I was glad she went out of the room at once, without turning round, as I felt an extraordinary wave of lust pass through me and I went red and white by turns. I knew I should have had the greatest pleasure in the world if I could have seen them in bed together, and I had an intuitive feeling that my presence excited Papa, and he would have allowed me to join him with Lily, if she chose.
She now returned, having renewed the powder and lip-paint, and told me it was time for my train. Evidently she wanted to get rid of me, to have a long series of caresses before Mamma returned, so she told Papa to get up.
He made out as before, laughingly, that he was too tired to move, and so Lily took hold of his left hand to pull him off the couch. He being too heavy, she could not move him and asked me to help her. I did so, by grasping his right hand, and together we dragged him to his feet. This was nothing, but after an evening passed in the society of the semi-incestuous couple, the touch of his warm and moist palm had a most peculiar effect upon me. My flesh had never been in contact with his, save in the hurried conventional grip, and the knowledge that Lily held one hand, I the other, all three knowing our mutual relationships, irritated my desire to a most fearful extent. I was very thankful to my charmer for her efforts in my favor, as I thought she was endeavoring to do her best to let me into the secret of her liaison with the master of the house.
My brain was in such a whirl of lust from this day forward that I am sure I missed several signs and incidents that might have shown Eric Arvel and Adèle's daughter in closer connection perhaps, but I think anybody will now be satisfied that Papa and Lilian were lovers.
My passions were excited immensely, and cudgel my brains as I will, I cannot call to mind whether the couple accompanied me to the station or not.