“You were wrong. You see you did marry one of my mistresses.” ” ” What a terrible story. “
He was silent for a few moments, regarding me over the candelabrum.
“I tell you this,” he said, ‘to let you know what my ancestors were like. So what can you expect of me? “
“I knew already that they were barbarians. What happened to the noble Florence?”
“He was murdered later on.”
“Oh!” I’m glad. The story has the right ending after all. The wronged husband murdered him, I suppose. “
“It was generally believed to be so.”
“It should be a lesson to all barbarians.”
“Barbarians never learn that sort of lesson.”
“No, I suppose not.”
He was smiling at me. I felt sick with apprehension. This was beginning to take on a new meaning. Before I had felt I would fight every inch of the way even though the battle was lost. But now . I could not bear to think of what this meant. He was more cynical than I had believed even him to be.
I stood up. He said: “Are you ready? Where are you going?”
“I would go anywhere to get away from you.”
“Poor Kate!” he said and caught me in his arms.
For the first time I felt as though I want to burst into tears. I could see what he was doing. This was nothing to do with his desire for me. I was a symbol. He had discovered that Bertrand and I were betrothed and he had demanded that Bertrand marry Nicole. Bertrand had refused. So the Baron had taken me so that he could say as his ancestor had before him: “You will marry a mistress of mine after all, even though she is not the one I planned for you.”
I believe I could have killed him if I had been capable of the physical strength. He deserved the same fate as his ancestor.
“Kate,” he said.
“I’m in love with you.”
“I know you are capable of every evil, but you are not capable of loving anyone, so there is no need to tell blatant lies.”
“There is no need, is there, for me to say what I do not mean?”
“You love yourself… your pride … your lust … your greed . that is what you love.”
“I love myself, yes … but next to myself it’s you … for tonight.”
I laid a hand on his arm.
“Let me go … please?” I begged.
“So appealing. So beautiful,” he said and he picked me up in his arms.
I lay on the bed . supine . indifferent almost. Violation had become commonplace. My body was no longer my own. I was weary, tired of reiterating my hatred.
I murmured: “If only I could send time back. If only I could go back to the time when I was in Paris. I could go home … instead of coming here …”
“You would have missed the greatest experience of your life.”
“The greatest degradation.”
Then I lost my indifference and shouted at him . my hatred and contempt.
He did not heed me. He just turned to me and showed me once more that I was his to command.
It was morning. I was awakened by the sound of footsteps and voices. I sat up in bed. My robe was lying on the floor where he had thrown it.
Someone was coming into the room.
It was the Baron and with him . Bertrand.
I saw then that this was the final scene of a farce . comedy. tragedy. whatever he meant it to be. This was the climax towards which he had been working.
“Mademoiselle Collison is here,” he was saying.
“She has been here for three nights … with me. Well, Bertrand, there is no need for me to say more. I wish you a felicitous life together. I can assure you, Kate is a most desirable woman. Many will envy you. I myself for one.
And another time, Bertrand, don’t be a fool. Do as I tell you. You must not think because I have given you some independence you can flout me. “
That moment remains in my memory forever. There was a sudden stillness in the room. It was as though we were all inanimate outlines in a picture.
Bertrand stared at me first in amazement and then in growing understanding. Horror . disbelief. realization . disgust. I saw all those emotions in his face.
His lips formed my name: “Kate …”
I raised myself holding the coverlet about me.
I cried out: “I was brought here … drugged … forced …”
Bertrand continued to stare at me. Then he turned to the Baron who stood there smiling evilly . like the demon-gargoyle on Notre Dame.
He nodded slowly in affirmation.
“She fought like a wild cat,” he said.
“But I think we came to an … understanding.”
Bertrand’s face was distorted. I thought he was going to weep. Then suddenly his expression changed. There was nothing but hatred. He sprang at the Baron but that wicked man was waiting for him. Bertrand was at his throat but the Baron picked him up and threw him from him.
Bertrand went down and slid across the floor.
“Get up,” said the Baron.
“You are making a fool of yourself … and before Kate. Kate, your clothes will be brought up to you. Dress and take a little food.” He laid an envelope on the table.
“Here is the payment for the portrait as we arranged, and here also are the tickets you will need. You may leave in an hour’s time. The carriage will take you to the station. All the connections have been checked. I presume you will want to go straight to England for a rest before you take up your next commission. Bertrand can conduct you as far as he wishes.”
With that he turned away and left us.
Bertrand had picked himself up. He was shaken by the fall but not so much as he had been by what he had seen and heard.
I was sorry for him. I could see that his humiliation was almost as deep as my own; and I knew in that moment that I could never marry him. I could never marry anyone after this.
He stood looking at me.
“Kate,” he said.
“He … is a monster,” I said.
“I want to go home.”
He nodded.
“I want to leave this place at the earliest possible moment.”
The woman came in with my clothes and hot water. Bertrand left us.
“I’ll bring you some petit dejeuner,” said the woman, cosy as ever.
“No, thanks,” I said.
“I want nothing more here. I want to leave at once.”
She did not answer but set down the hot water. I washed hastily and dressed. It seemed strange to be in my own clothes again.
I even found the pins for my hair on the table with the mirror and I laughed a little hysterically to think how precisely everything had been taken-care of.
Dressed, I felt myself again a different person from the one in the furred robe and cloud of hair. Peering closely at my face I detected a difference there. What was it a look of worldliness? Eve must have looked like that after having eaten the forbidden fruit.
I descended the short spiral staircase. The great iron-studded door was open.
I found my way out of the tower and down to the room where it seemed so long ago I had partaken of pot aufeu and drugged wine.
Bertrand was outside with the carriage. There was no sign of the Baron. I supposed he had gone back to the castle. The little adventure which had ruined my life and brought him the satisfaction he had needed, was over.
I said: “Let us go. Let us get away from this place.”
So we went together.
Bertrand said very little during the journey. I thought it would never end. We had left Rouen and were approaching the coast.
I said to him: “There is no need for you to cross the Channel. I don’t need an escort in my own country.”
He nodded again.
When we reached Calais, there was an hour to wait for the packet-boat.
I said: “Don’t stay, Bertrand.”
“I will see you safely on board,” he replied.