And with these words, Maxim de Berny left the Club de Topinambours.
After he had left, Raoul remained pouting in the big leather chair. Finally he said, somewhat irritated, “Now what on earth… this Maxim has all the luck in the world. What does he have, I ask you, that makes him such a prize among women?”
“My dear de Paliseul, I am glad that your father cannot hear this. He still prides himself on his prowess, and he is convinced that his son is firmly in his footsteps. And, after what we have heard tonight, it seems to me that you have the least reason to complain about Maxim.” De Melreuse had, like all the other gentlemen, thoughts about nothing but women. They could not care less what types of women, as long as they had all the attributes of the weaker sex, and were willing to part with their favors. The stories of Raoul and Maxim had gotten every one of the members of the Club de Topinambours very willing and eager. Unfortunately, not all were sure that they would be able to get some, and therefore, Raoul's pouting remark had put a sharp edge in the voice of de Melreuse.
“I… I… did not mean to say that…” de Paliseul stuttered, “and, besides, you know… with me those affairs never last long. I can't help it, and I don't know why it is. But once, at the most twice, and then they have lost their interest. I am discarded. And he!”
“Listen, young man, count your blessings. Many of us here are discarded before we are even selected. Believe me, a woman is an unpredictable creature. There is an old proverb that says, 'A woman's heart is never fair; only a fool puts trust in long hair.' Let it be a consolation to you, my friend. Maybe you are not capable of evoking eternal passion, but it saves you the trouble of getting rid of undesirable fetters.”
“I am glad you are trying to lift my spirits. I have to leave now, gentlemen; I am waiting for word of my beloved Pomegranate Flower. But I can promise you one thing right now. I shan't be a hog about my little secret-like our friend Maxim!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Club de Topinambours was not the only place that night where confessions and confidences were exchanged.
In a little boudoir on the Boulevard St. Michel sat the two women who had caused the gentlemen so many headaches and heartbreaks. Their whispered conversation was repeatedly interrupted with a clear happy laughter.
“Why,” Florentine asked her sister, “didn't you come to Charmettes yesterday to tell me everything about your experiences of that previous night?”
“Well, I was surprised not to find you in the carriage, because I did use the secret stairs of our mysterious Buenretiro, exactly as Dorothy had told me to do.”
“And I had asked Dorothy to let you know. Do you think she forgot about it?”
“Impossible, your chambermaid never forgets anything. She did tell me that you were very tired. Of course, I did not believe that at all. What was the matter?”
“My dear God, nothing of importance. I had to make a whole series of social visits. Besides, there was a lot to think about.”
“Like what?”
“About the cliffhangers and the dangers that are part of these adventures. I wonder if those constantly changing scenes will really dispel the boredom of being a widow.”
“Were you disappointed that night?”
“More or less. God knows I tried hard, but I must admit that I did not even begin to feel the delights in the arms of Raoul which I would feel by merely looking at Gaston. I did, of course, reach a climax. The physical sensation was pleasant while it lasted, but the moment he was off me, it had disappeared.”
“No,” Julia continued, “as far as I am concerned I must admit that I made a grave mistake. What can I say? One thing is for sure; I never want to see that big, blond, conceited lout again. He is just a perennial mixer. All interest in him is gone the moment you turn away from him. His looks just promise more than the poor creature can deliver. I don't know whether it is a lack of mutual attraction, whether it is him, or me… and frankly, I don't care. I don't even want to talk about him any longer. Yesterday, for instance, I was at a soiree at the home of Madame de Bourmond. I danced twice with him, we had the most asinine conversation, and all that time I looked at him, thinking, 'What if he knew?'”
“You mean that he really did not recognize you?”
“Not in the least! Our precautions are absolutely foolproof. But now you tell me, darling, how was your evening?”
“Well, frankly, I had selected him because he was so wild and so divine at Madam Lucy's. But now I am even more enchanted with him. He is an entirely different person…”
“Aren't they all?” murmured Julia.
“He is charming, obliging, kind and-above all-delicate. In his arms I have tasted all the happiness one can expect in love. At least, as far as a man is concerned. I am afraid about one thing only…”
“And that is that little Cherub will not remain your only child. Am I right?”
“You must admit that it is a point which one cannot lightly overlook.”
“Oh, come on! Trust your luck. If you don't dare to gamble, you will never have a chance to win! And even if it were to happen, all we have to do is to make a little trip, and the whole affair would be over and done with. In other words, you are going to see Maxim de Berny again?”
“Tomorrow! And I am so overjoyed at the thought that I can hardly wait. Because, unless I am terribly mistaken, this man knows how to make love. He makes love exactly the way it should be done.”
“What on earth in your opinion is the proper way of making love?”
“Well, it consists far more of certain sweet nothings than…”
“Oh, you poor child! What a miserable system to live on! Don't you realize that these enchanting preliminaries are only designed to whet your appetite? You don't walk away from a table hungry after you have nibbled a few snacks, do you? You can't just enjoy a few preliminaries of love, and then have your partner walk away from you! And not only that! For heaven's sake, dear sister, don't start convincing yourself that such is the natural and desirable state of your love life! You would wind up a nervous wreck!”
“Oh, no, no! One only has to know what to do when the appetite has been aroused.”
“That sounds good. And do you know how? It's almost amusing, dear Florentine. I hope that it is not some offbeat little secret my Dorothy has told you?”
“Oh, no, not at all. On the contrary, Dorothy insists that using artificial means might kill me, or at least it would age me years before my time. But she did show me some exercises with my thighs, recommending this as one of the means which nature so generously provides to reach a healthy orgasm. But I do admit that this would not shut out the possibility that I could fall deeply in love with Maxim. If he were only capable of understanding me completely.”
“Sister, dear, you want too much. I hope that you won't give away our little secret.”
“Of course not.”
“Please, don't forget it. It is terribly difficult to keep secrets from a lover with whom you are sharing your bed.”
“And whom are you going to invite the next time?” Florentine wanted to change the subject. “After all, the poor young Count de Paliseul has fallen from your graces!”
“Oh I don't know, yet. I'll think about it.”
“Fine, while you think about it, I am going to take my little Cherub for a walk in the Jardins des Luxembourg.”
The two sisters each went their own way, and Julia ordered her driver to take her to the Salon des Beaux-Arts where, just a few days before, a new art exhibition had opened.
It was quite obvious that the show had opened only very recently, because the place was crowded, not only with artists and art lovers, but above all with those people who want to be seen at the “right places” in Parisian society. That they far outnumbered the real connoisseurs was immediately obvious when one caught snatches of their meaningless chatter while they strolled past the various exhibitions.