“You have a great deal to learn about well-brought-up English ladies.”
“I have … and I am rejoicing in the education.”
He had taken me now and was holding me against him.
“Kate,” he said softly, ‘sweet Kate, it is no use fighting. Submit. I should like to see you submissive. I should like you to put your arms about me and tell me that you are so happy that I brought you here. ”
I drew myself away from him and because he held me at As arms’ length, I began beating that bare chest. He was laughing at me.
He knew as well as I did, that I should never have used that knife against him. He was right. People who had been brought up as I had did not do such things-no matter what was done to them.
He swept me up in his arms. I wriggled and tried to break away, but he revelled in making me aware of his strength.
“You make me impatient,” he said.
It was a long time afterwards before I could bring myself to think of that night. It had been different from the previous one. Then I had been in a drugged state and only half aware. I fought him . with all my strength I fought him . knowing from the first moment that I could not win. But I hoped I showed him my resentment, my loathing, my anger, my fury. At least that offered some balm to my humiliated senses.
But he did not care. He liked that. After all, his very nature was that of a fighter.
Perhaps I realized that I was playing into his hands. I was giving him what he wanted, because, for a man of his nature, the greater the resistance, the greater the triumph when victory was won.
And victory was inevitable. I might score occasionally in our verbal battles but physically I was no match for him.
But I fought. how I fought! I whipped up my hatred for him and somewhere at the back of my mind I realized that I was fighting not only him but something in myself. some erotic curiosity, some desire for this conflict. some craving for the ultimate satisfaction. I was vanquished but I felt a certain wild exhilaration in defeat and the stronger my hatred, the greater my excitement.
The bed was like a battlefield that night.
The next day passed as the previous one. I was beginning to feel I had spent a lifetime in my prison. I wondered whether his object was to keep me here until he had subdued my spirit to such an extent that I meekly submitted to him. If he ever did that, I felt, he would probably be tired of the adventure and let me go.
Sometimes still I thought I was dreaming. There was such an atmosphere of unreality about the whole matter, and yet, knowing him, I supposed it was natural enough.
He saw a woman; he thought he would like to seduce her and he set about his purpose. But he had known that there would never have been an easy submission with me. It had to be force, and so it had been.
The evening supper was served as before. I thought he was a little different. Was there a shade of regret. tenderness. Oh no. That was too strong a word. He could never be tender. However, there was a change in him and I wondered what it meant.
He said rather soberly as he poured the wine: “Kate, it has been a wonderful experience … our being together.”
I was silent.
“Would you believe me if I told you I had never enjoyed an association so much?”
“No,” I said.
“It’s true. Why should I lie to you? There is no reason, is there?”
“I have not found you reasonable, so why should I expect you to be so now?”
“You will learn that my actions have been well within the bounds of reason. I really acted with a very good reason for doing so.”
“Which was the satisfaction of your lust, your desire to exert your malevolent powers.”
“Absolutely right. Dear Kate, what an observant woman you are.”
“It does not need a great deal of observation to assess a man’s character when his actions are those of a barbarian.”
"Not all. “
“You are going to remind me that you launched me on my career. I wish I had never heard of you. I wish I had never come to your castle and learned that there are people in the world who are nothing more than savages.”
“Such tirades are not very interesting and the theme of this one is becoming somewhat repetitious.”
“It must be when everything I say to you has to tell you how much I loathe and despise you.”
“Do you know, I got a different impression last night.”
“You have degraded me. You have treated me as no honourable man would ever treat a woman. What you have done is a criminal offence. In those old days of which you are so fond, you would have been hanged or sent to the galleys for what you have done.”
“Not a man in my position. I believe that one of my ancestors used to waylay travellers, bring them here and hold them to ransom. Yet he was never asked to account for his misdeeds.”
“A little game which might appeal to you.”
“It doesn’t appeal in the least. I have money in plenty.”
“How fortunate for the travellers!”
“If one has sufficient power and er expertise, shall I say, one can do a great deal which other people cannot. I am going to tell you a true story of one of my ancestors. Would you like to hear it?”
“I would prefer to walk out of this place and never see you again.”
“You would continue to see me in your mind’s eye and my voice would haunt your dreams.”
“I shall do everything in my power to wipe them from my memory.”
“Oh, Kate, has it been so hateful for you?”
“Words cannot describe how hateful. When I leave here I shall be able to see it in all its horror and I will never forget or forgive you for what you have done to me.”
“Those are harsh words.”
“Deservedly so.”
“Let me tell you this story of my ancestor. I think it will interest you.”
I did not answer and he went on: “It happened a long time ago, in the thirteenth century to be exact, in the reign of Philippe who was known as Le Bel because he was so handsome. This ancestor of mine was Florence, Earl of Holland. A strange name for a man, you think. But some names are used for men and women here. Florence was a man who had had many love-affairs.”
T can understand your affinity, though love-a. Sa. us seems an odd way to describe them. “
He ignored the interruption.
“Florence had a mistress to whom he was rather grateful. He had many mistresses, of course, but this one had become more important to him than any of the others had been. There came a time when he had finished with her and he wanted to see her settled into respectable marriage.”
“With someone else, I presume, since he no longer had any use for her?”
“Oh, you are listening then. I’m glad of that for I am sure you will find this very interesting. He asked one of his ministers to marry her. This minister indignantly refused, saying that he would never marry one of Florence’s castoff mistresses.”
“I am not surprised that he refused.”
“Florence didn’t like it. He was very powerful. Can you guess what he did?”
I was looking at him intently now and slow horror was beginning to dawn on me. I said: “You want to tell me, don’t you?”
“That minister was at the time enamoured of a woman whom he wished to marry. He married her and snapped his fingers at his master. There was no question then of his being forced to marry Florence’s mistress.”
“So poor Florence did not get his way for once?”
“Oh, he did. He never allowed anyone to get the better of him. Can you guess what he did. He waylaid the new wife one day and had her brought to his castle. Can you guess what happened?”
I stared at him in mounting horror.
“He kept her there for three days,” he said, watching me intently.
“The records say that he violated her against her will. Then he sent her back to his minister with a note saying: