“She professed to find something shocking, saying, 'What? You ask me to do something to make up for this broken engagement, and come to your rooms for a purpose that would save you making the trip?' I told her gaily, 'You are causing me to be unfaithful.' At long last, with many a teasing remark as to my fidelity not being worth much, she agreed, saying, 'I'd better be quite frank, you are in great danger of being terribly disappointed; I've agreed to be your companion, don't count on anything more.' I told her I'd accept the risk.
“Well, to summarize, I don't regret the afternoon in Cracow. There is a curious memory left from it, a hint of the anachronistic, Marcia. I had already given my Madeline some kisses and she'd returned them with a yielding warmth. I had held her in my arms, even begun to undress her, but at that point she had become pathetic-for nothing positive showed in her reaction-indeed, she was very restraining, but touching; or let me say, laboring under an obvious distress. 'Please-I can't — I have promised someone.'
“'A man?' I asked.
“'Yes, he's far away, he'll be away for much longer too,' she added.
“She was sitting half undressed on my knees. My hands caressed her breasts and sides very lingeringly and gently, not forcing her in the least. She covered my neck with kisses, which seemed as voluptuous and tender as could be wished, interrupting them only to speak, rather breathlessly and in a sad tone of voice, of a genuine distress of which I could not doubt.
“'Really, I can't-I've promised.' I had a feeling that here was where action meant more than words-and my hand slipped to her belly, and then thighs-up her petticoat. She wore a bra and petticoat now, besides her panties of a very sheer fine silk. I felt her growing amorously restive on my lap. We did exchange more long and sweet kisses on the lips, and she kept on saying in a tone almost like a mother's gentle reproach, 'Besides all, this sort of thing is bad, the diabolic side of life and love.' She struck me as being a woman, perfectly sophisticated, yet torn between desire to yield fervently to my embraces and terror inspired by a complex scruple.
“For as she agreed, Marcia, almost without my having to ask her twice, and as something quite natural in the circumstances, to remove the obstacle of which I was complaining-her panties- I left her petticoat to preserve this sweet pathos of hers. She said she was really terribly sorry, it was a pity we men attached such importance to the things. Love was from heaven, but this other thing was the mouth of Hell. I had felt I was conversing with a pure heroine, trembling on the brink of her first adultery. Yet gradually, by dint of kisses and strokings, I led her to the bed, drew up her petticoat and mounted her. Everything went as it should, save that now and then, Madeline-who did not allow me to remove her bra, singularly enough-could not hold back a slight moan, as eloquent as before, of maternal reproach.
“'Oh, darling, this is being terribly vicious. It's awful, really it is.'
“After we finished our first essay, we had port and cakes. I lent her a dressing gown so she wouldn't have to resume her clothes too soon. I tried once more to lead her toward the bed, but she resisted and said, 'I can't-really-it is impossible-please.'
“Her tone was so sincere of regret, I realized how easy it would have been for me to overcome any physical resistance she might have proposed. But I felt it would be an extreme spiritual shock were I to attempt it, and so we parted amicably.
5. my fifth affair
“Now, Marcia, my magic carpet hastens to Budapest. The day after my arrival, I saw several reporters in the lobby of the hotel. The manager had given my name as an American business traveler and they wished to interview me. One, a young woman, wanted to interview me on behalf of an illustrated magazine. I gave out the usual nonsense and asked her if I might see the text before it was printed. She spoke French as did I. She asked me if I knew Hungarian and I had to say no, perhaps she would be kind enough to translate it. Honestly, I trusted. She smiled, sighed, and said she would bring me a rough draft at five. I bade her come to my room and I added, smiling, 'I trust being alone with a strange man won't make you nervous.' She gave me a full-throated laugh.
“She arrived very punctually the next day. I sat her down at the little table I used as desk for my correspondence. She translated the text for me, laughing a lot at her mistakes in French and said it did not sound as silly in Hungarian. I was standing next to her as she made notes of my numerous corrections. Sometimes I leaned over her shoulder to watch her work. I did kiss her on the neck. She twitched as if I had tickled her, then laughed and threw me a sidelong glance. She uttered a friendly little sibilant noise which I took to mean, 'Let's get through with the work first.' When we finished, she folded her notes, put them in her bag, and without moving from her chair turned to me with a little questioning laugh. It was a shade nervous, but I assumed this to be part of the game.”
“What a connoisseur you had become! Oh, and I didn't even know you then.”
“Yes, I regret it too, dearest. She was rather pretty, brown haired, very fresh looking, extremely gay. She was about twenty-five with a fine robust, though not unfeminine figure, beautiful hard round breasts, and lush hips and thighs.
“I swung her in my arms, lifted her to her feet, pressed her against me, and I kissed her sensuously several times. She responded with a ripple of mirth.
“Seeing a bottle of tokay and some cake on the sideboard, which of course I had prepared, Gertrude-that was her Christian name-said, 'Let's have a drink to clear my head,' which was not exactly what she meant, as you can imagine, my darling. She gulped down the two glasses. I fondled her a little and made my intentions perfectly clear. Just as we were approaching a wide divan in the corner of the room, she indicated by a sign that she wanted me to free her arms for a moment. Then, slipping a hand under her skirt, she very dexterously removed a little pair of champagne colored silk panties. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she glanced down at her skirt and said, 'I'd better take the skirt off too, it'll be all crumpled.' 'And how about your other things?' I asked softly, 'Why not take them off as well?' 'We shall do very well as I am,' she said. I felt it better not to insist, though I didn't understand her reluctance. Was she in a hurry or did she wish to avoid the trouble of having to dress again? Perhaps she found a certain thrilling reaction in making love like that; a pornographic novel she had read might have suggested itself to her imagination at this point.