These two fine little stories share one thing in common an unusual story-telling technique. In the first, Secret Letters, the voluptuous young ladies exchange the most lascivious details in their correspondence. Nothing is held back as they each describe their defloration and the subsequent acts of sexuality in which they engage. Both have bi-sexual affairs, being screwed sometimes by women, sometimes by men, and throughout there is a constant seeking of the most exciting kind of pleasure.
The second story, Puberty, is in the form of a diary, and it shows that the young girl writing it is a tease and nothing more. She frequently places herself in a position to excite the lubricity of men, though in the final analysis she is not really ready to deliver up her maidenhead to anyone. But somewhat unconsciously she puts herself in positions where young men are tempted to try and seduce her, and though the circumstances are just right, she manages to escape. It is almost as though she was seeking affection in the arms of any man who wanted her, but with still enough fear to cause her to draw back at the last moment exactly as so many young girls today are doing. Finding themselves in loveless homes, where they themselves are unloved, they seek companionship, affection, love anywhere it is offered. And if it is necessary for them to pay the price with their bodies, they are usually more than willing to.
But these girls are not to be blamed, for the human animal needs affection as surely as it needs food and water. Denied access to love in the home, it is not surprising that a girl would turn to the only form of love she seems capable of attracting the physical union of her body with that of some youth who may himself be desperately seeking the same thing. One might be tempted to argue that such unions are good because each supplies the other's need, but it is not so. Each is so thoroughly self-seeking that they can find in a snatched moment only temporary surcease from the craving within them. Their satisfaction is physical only, for they have not learned how to give or receive love. They are emotional cripples, destined to a life of seeking and only rarely of finding that which they crave the most.
But blame? No, they are not to blame, for parents who cannot teach their children to love and be loved are to blame. It is almost a truism to blame the 'older generation' for the ills of the younger and in many applications this is only a rationalization but in the matter of loving the only place it can be learned properly is at home.
And so if the girl in Puberty is an emotional cripple, we can see the factors driving her in that direction in the direction of promiscuity and perhaps understand that she is, indeed, a product of not just her time, but any time, anywhere. She is your daughter, your neighbor's, mine. Sadly, she is universal.
Dale Koby, A.B., M.A. Atlanta, Georgia July, 1968
CHAPTER ONE
Danielle Hollaz to Marguerite de Marvejane:
My dear friend, here we are at a point where our correspondence threatens to become scabrous especially if we wish to tell each other everything just as we promised. But, from another viewpoint, to live without telling you of my life, just as you tell me of yours, would be an ordeal every moment.
How many things have happened since my last letter! That was six weeks ago, six centuries, that letter in which I told you of the visit of that beautiful woman, my aunt's friend, that enchanting Madame Rastegue whom I'd never met before and who was so charming that you were jealous.
How wrong you were, my dear; she in no way imperiled the sweet affection that unites us two and, quite the contrary, even managed to shed a ray of light on the sad confidences I made to you of my annoyance and boredom in Paris. Yes, her visit reversed all our habits, and since then I go from surprise to surprise.
First it was the news of the marriage of my Aunt Laura who married a distinguished lawyer, Monsieur Ernest Delron, whose qualities I'd already remarked as admirable. He is a friend of the Rastegue family, and so a whole swarm of relations were introduced to me. The marriage will take place toward the end of September, and I hope he'll find an occasion to visit us.
Next, it was my brother Pierre's trip; he was gone a week and, when he got back, rented a little apartment in town. Yes, my darling, he's no longer with us; he strikes out for himself, and I believe with much success, if I'm to judge from the rather cryptic words he said to me. I'm sure Madame Rastegue has her eye on him, and since her husband, a very famous banker, isn't the least bit jealous, it bodes well for them both if it happens!
Then, two weeks ago, I witnessed a great marriage, that of Doctor Prosper Rastegue, brother of the banker, with Mademoiselle Paola Raymond, a very rich young girl, very nice, quite lovely, but not at all timid. There was an enormous crowd, and what really astonished me was that it was divided into two kinds of parties, the first being an official gathering to which my aunt took me and where everyone was having a good deal of fun, the second reserved for intimate friends to which my aunt went without me. They must have tired themselves out at that second party, for my dear aunt took to her bed all the next day and seemed quite exhausted to me.
And then, a series of meager facts which overwhelm me, move me, let me sense a thousand mysteries for which I shall need all your friendship and counsel, on condition that you will banish from your heart any ugly idea of jealousy. Purposely, my adored beloved, I use that word here.
You see, brought up together as we were, each knowing the other's slightest thought, having the same aspirations toward the ideal which means that both of us agree that the ideal consist of knowing how to love and that when one does love, it colors every phase of life we have repudiated everything which seemed gross to us and resolved to seek the refinement of love's sensations in our souls reflected in our bodies. Let us dream that we love each other, you said to me when you left, and let us reveal our dream to each other. You knew all of mine and never hid yours from me. So perhaps we can combat the odious arbitrariness which tries to make playthings of women, and so we shall achieve a divine fecundity of voluptuousness, we shall vibrate by the desires which are born in us and end by falling into each other's arms. That's what you said.
And you added: "Sure of your heart, as you will be of mine, have no fear of avowing to me your most secret impressions, even if they glorify an affection different from our own. Our reciprocal confidences will form a stronger bond between us; we shall never separate our pleasures."
And now, my dear, you show jealousy because I tell you of Madame Rastegue's charms! Jealousy is a false sentiment when it's a question of the attraction exerted by one woman over another; one can be loved by several women, without any of those women suffering in her own self-esteem.
Listen, dear Marguerite, at this moment, I have more to tell you than in my preceding letter, and yet I don't want to distress you. Tear up these pages, then, if they cause you the slightest doubt as to the powerful affection I have for you. I shall not write you any more except to speak of myself and of you, leaving in the shadows the events I witnessed. It would cost me dearly to erect a wall which would conceal my actions, but with willing heart I'd rather be silent if it means preserving intact our beloved Ideal.
One day you'll know that the Ideal modifies itself according to the age and the surroundings in which one lives, the discussions one hears, the facts one accepts, and you will ask yourself to be allowed to penetrate the mysteries which will have created a Danielle more prepossessing than the one who now enters your dreams.
Yes, I'm choosing my words carefully now lest I hurt you; try to be me, be at fault if I am, and if I have been, pardon me for me and love me always, as I shall always love you.
After Mademoiselle Raymond's marriage, my aunt, who had always been most affectionate, was nearly three days in being cool to me, almost tormenting me. What had I done to her? I lost myself in conjectures. Young and beautiful (since she remarried a lawyer a bit younger than herself, and also quite rich), I pleased myself in admiring her, devouring her with caresses, and, without the slightest motive, suddenly she repulsed me. My heart was strongly grieved. On the fourth day, as we were dining with Monsieur Castex, the brother-in-law of Monsieur Derlon, Mall dame Castex took me aside, kissed me tenderly and said to me: "You're very sad, my child."
"I could hardly be more so, Madame."
"Will you accept me as a friend and confide to me the cause of your sorrow, then?"
"Alas, Madame, it wouldn't interest you. I suffer because my aunt doesn't love me any more, and I don't know why."
"Hasn't your heart told you? Don't you have a secret lover, perhaps?"
"Oh, no! There's no one, no one."
"Your aunt fears that you do have one and she would be crushed. Take my advice this evening, when you get back home, go to her room and tell her so."
"But she knows all my thoughts!"
"Follow my advice, dear little one, you'll find it'll turn out well."
Asking nothing better than to get back into my aunt's good graces, after we'd got back home, while she was preparing to retire, I begged her to allow me to serve her as a maid and accompany her to her boudoir.
"Very well, my dear Danielle."
By the way she pronounced those words, I recognized my aunt of happier days, and I flung my arms round her neck and devoured her with kisses.
We sat down on a sofa; she took me by the waist, drew me against her bosom, and, playing with my hair, murmured, "You wish to serve me as a maid, my little Danielle, so now tell me what's behind this charming pretext."
"A great chagrin, my aunt."
"Which one, darling?"
"The fear of having displeased you."
"Displeased, my dear child, with that charming face and those roguish eyes of yours? Indeed not!"
"Oh, Aunt, Aunt," I laughed happily.
"Kiss me tenderly, then, and drive away that needless worry of yours."
"But why have you been so severe the last few days?"
"Severity, darling? I wasn't thinking of making you unhappy, and I ask your pardon for having been in a bad mood, one that doesn't in the least concern you."
I was so happy at having been wrong that I seized both her hands so I might look deep into her eyes..
Suddenly, she put her arms round me, fused her lips to mine, and bestowed on me a kiss which surged like a torrent of flame in my veins. I uttered a little cry and she demanded, "Did I hurt you, Danielle?"
"Oh no!"
"Then why that cry?"
"Everything seemed to whirl around me."
"Truly, from just a single kiss?"
"Ah, such a kiss is a kiss of love."
"Of love, you say. Do you know what love is?"
Recalling my conversation with Madame Castex, I was afraid of annoying my aunt, so I painstakingly replied: "Love? I've heard it spoken of, as any young girl has, but I love no one, I tell you honestly, Aunt."
As I pronounced these words, I followed the effect they provoked on her face, and I noticed for the first time her strange beauty," illuminated by a very keen expression in her eyes which fixed on me.
"You love no one, you say," she answered, "yet you're at the age when the heart wakens. If the heart is silent, sometimes the senses are irritated, forcing the evocation of certain images in which one perceives foolish scenes which amuse or enervate the soul. Life, little one, is very foolish when one despoils it of all that pertains to love, and love itself is deceptive indeed when one knows it as you say you do, only from having heard it spoken of." She paused for a few moments, holding my hands tightly, and then said to me: "Look at me, Danielle, how do you find me?"
"Very beautiful, my dear aunt."
"Don't call me your aunt; when we're alone together, call me Laura."
"I shouldn't dare."
"You find me beautiful; you say that only out of flattery."
Oh, no, I tell you the truth of what's in my mind."
"Then prove it by returning my kiss."
"Oh!"
"You don't want to, I see."
I was very embarrassed; she let go my hands, drew back and said sadly: "Come, Danielle, your silence is eloquent, I'm ugly and repulsive."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, no," I cried.
Listening only to my heart, I sat on her lap, sought her lips and offered mine eagerly. What a kiss, my Marguerite! Is it possible that a single kiss can produce such shivers can one remain alive after such a violent impression?
My aunt's lips had responded to mine. Without knowing what I was doing, I responded in my turn to her kiss; our lips remained sealed; invincible power multiplied our kisses, which were intermingled with sighs; then and how shall I tell you this, I tremble, I blush, I'm afraid, my dear it happened that in a sweet sensation of well-being, my tongue jostled her mouth, probed inside it to touch hers, which in its turn paid my mouth a sweet visit, and in an unheard of transport of tenderness, our tongues went on caressing.
It was too much for both of us; she made me sit beside her, jny arms still clinging to her neck. We did not speak for a moment, then she regained her sangfroid and said to me: "That's enough, my dear Danielle. Do leave me, my dear. We'll have a longer chat the next time. Try to get a good night's sleep."
She kissed me on the forehead, and I left, limp and weak from sensation. What did it mean? I didn't analyze it; my destroyed mind couldn't. I slept badly, but I slept.
For the next few days, I had no occasion to be alone with my aunt. She went out a good deal for a thousand and one reasons, and often I spent my afternoons with the sisters of Madame Rastegue. One, Mademoiselle Lucie Vautrin, is a young girl of our age; the other, older, Mademoiselle Leonie Vautrin, has married Monsieur Duport. This family does many nice little things for me, and I meet from time to time with Monsieur Charles Vautrin, the brother who is studying medicine, a fine, worthy young man who has paid me a little court.
You see, my dear, how the circle of my acquaintances grows, but you needn't be uneasy that anyone of them would take away from you the tiniest part of my heart. Though you will read in these pages things that amaze you, you ceaselessly dominate my thoughts, and I'd be very happy to have you near me to aid me in studying the events which carry me away.
Then, five evenings ago, as I was saying good evening to my aunt, she whispered to me, "Come with me, Danielle. I'm less fatigued than I've been these past few days, and we must talk."
She underlined these words with such a look that at once I felt a shiver run through my entire body, and I turned very pale. She saw this and uneasily exclaimed: "Ah, good Lord, are you ill, dear?"
"No, no, it's nothing."
"Nothing? But you're trembling all over; lean on me.
I obeyed; the truth was, I had incomprehensible hot flashes throughout my being. Back in her room, she said to me, "I had thought of letting you serve me as maid, but I see this is not the day for it."
"No, no, my aunt, it's over. I'm fine, I'll serve you."
"My aunt!" she repeated scornfully, and I lowered my head without reply.
"Here, darling, just unhook my dress, I'll let you off the rest."
"Oh, I beg of you, don't send me away," I pleaded.
She smiled and I drew off her bodice, her skirt, petticoats, unlaced her corset, and she was in her chemise. "I already feel better," she smiled. Oh, what a provocative chemise it was; it outlined her body, and through its transparency, one saw the whiteness of her flesh, delicious in its contours. My aunt untied a riband about her neck, and her firm sculptured titties sprang out; with her hands, she cupped them languidly. "Hand me a house dress. Take it out of that closet," she directed.
And after I'd brought it to her, she added, "You'd be nice if you'd powder my shoulders. I feel as if my skin is dry."
"They're superb."
"Flatterer, powder me."
While I complied, she said, still cupping her titties, "Would one take me for a nurse?"
"Oh no!" I gasped. "You're really beautifully made."
"You think so? Why haven't you kissed me?"
"You you didn't ask me to, L-Laura."
"Laura you said Laura. Quick, let me give you a kiss to reward you, darling."
Cupping my cheeks, she put her mouth to mine. Then putting on her house dress, she only partly buttoned it, seated herself on the sofa, extended a leg and said to me, "Continue your good work. Take off my shoes. Sit down on that cushion, and be comfortable."
With one foot on my knees, as I was taking off her shoes, I had the feeling that she was staring at me, and subtle crimson suffused my cheeks. In a movement she made, she put her hand to my lips, doubtless seeking a kiss which I did not accord, and she slid forward because she was leaning so far forward, and found herself almost astride me. Our position was so droll that we shared an outburst of laughter. She resumed her place on the sofa so clumsily that my eyes perceived her leg bare to the thigh. Her hand, under her house dress, had drawn away her chemise and, far from lowering it, while I unhooked her garter, I could not help seeing that she was lifting it above her belly.
In that moment I cannot tell what genie breathed a command to my mind; I saw only that her chemise was rising beyond her navel, and an overpowering dizziness drew me towards that flesh which she exposed. My hands were trembling; my aunt, leaning back, did not speak. Her thighs, slightly parted, inflamed my senses. Why? Did she guess what was taking place within my psyche? The leg she had on my knees drew back without my noting it, and gently hooked round my waist from behind, and then, before me, a half step from my face, I perceived under a thicket of bushy brown hairs, another pair of lips that summoned mine. Those lips seemed to stir with a soft continuous movement of opening and closing; and brutally, my Marguerite, unable to resist such a burning invitation, I approached my mouth to that delicious cunt and covered it with inspired kisses. I came to my senses only under the pressure of my aunt's thighs which were squeezing my cheeks.
How long had I thus kissed her sweet pussy? Time can't be measured when your heart's pounding enough to burst. Did I experience any shame? None!
My aunt, half stretched out on the sofa, did not move; besides, I didn't try to look at her; at that moment I was afraid that she would stop my caresses, and I wanted to resume them . . . yes, my darling friend, resume them!
Leaving the cushion, I installed myself on the rug, having on each side of me my aunt's thighs, doubtless awaiting new kisses; with calculated daring, I returned my lips to that furry nook of hers, nibbling at some of the curly hairs that tried to prevent my amorous assault. Then I put all my soul into adoring her pussy: my tongue foraged everywhere, I grasped her thighs as she abandoned them to me by hooking them around my neck, and I bestowed a deluge of enervating kisses and tonguing on her perfumed, soft moist cunthole! I was delirious with desire.
A hand on my head restored me to reality; I stopped, I wasn't conscious of anything. My aunt, divining my confusion, covered up the sweet object of my tender devotion, leaned over me and, her face against mine, murmured, "Enough, my dear little one, you're killing yourself, leave me, we shall lose our reason. You love me truly, you've proved it, and I love you too, go, go, leave me!"
I put my arms round her neck and murmured, "Laura, Laura, I want to love you again, do you want me to? Tell me, oh, Laura, tell me!"
"No, no, sweet, another time. You aren't strong enough, my adored little girl."
"But I assure you I am.'
"Believe in my affection, Danielle, be good now. Go to sleep, and you won't be sorry. I'll teach you all you don't know, for I love you as a true lover."
"As a lover!"
"Yes, you'll soon see I'm not lying to you, dearest."
Her words calmed the fever in my blood, and, an extraordinary thing, my dear Marguerite, though I thought I wouldn't sleep a wink, I fell at once into deep slumber.
What do you think of me when you read this? Are you going to hate me, treat me as a lost woman, curse my aunt? I repeat to you, you'd be wrong if you did, for I don't stop loving you.
The next morning, I was somewhat embarrassed when I entered the dining room where the family was waiting. But Laura's gracious welcome dissipated my fears and daily life resumed its usual routine.
And now, Marguerite, that which I've just written is as nothing compared to what follows. I shall call on all your heart not to condemn me. This is the secret burning inside of me, the secret I wanted to admit to you from the start of this letter, a secret whose victim I am and which I shall confide only to you.
What idea will you have of your friend? My God, love me always as I love you, as we agreed we'd do, and if you'll find that your Danielle is becoming too sensual, tell yourself that her soul hasn't left her and shares only weakly the voluptuousness of a material body, and thus cannot be held responsible.
This preamble, dear, is to show you that if, in what took place with Laura, I had been carried away by my senses, it wasn't the same at all in what I'm about to tell you, which makes me doubly at fault in some peoples' eyes, and innocent in others'.
I told you I often went to the Vautrin girls; for these visits, the children's' governess accompanied me to a bus station where I took a tramway. I love such trips, for one can see the scenery and people walking. Two days ago, about three in the afternoon, I got aboard one of them. My trip being about thirty-five minutes, I took the most comfortable seat nearest the exit. There was only one passenger nearby, a man who seemed sympathetic of features.
The tramway started off, we were alone on our side, but two minutes hadn't passed when the man squeezed against me with a deliberate insistence. At first, I didn't pay too much attention, thinking that he was going to talk, and also reassured by his age, which was in the fifties, I should judge. But my illusion didn't last long. He didn't speak, but instead put a hand on my ankle and slowly began to stroke it. How dared he be so bold? Speechless, I didn't know what to do. Now his hand was caressing my calf, trying to ascend. In vain I tightened my legs, tried to recoil, to hamper his movements; my neighbor wasn't at all put off by my maneuvers. I should have cried out and caused a scandal, but such an extreme frightened me; I resolved to defend myself alone and without anyone else's help.
I put out my hand to repulse his. But at the same moment, as if anticipating what I meant to do, his roving hand intercepted mine, squeezed it as in a vise, and then began to fondle it. He pressed it, tickled my palm, fondled my fingers, and without the slightest concern for what I might do or say, used his other hand to unbutton the glove. I was afraid I was dealing with a madman; I kept silent. When he had finished caressing my hand, he drew it towards himself. Was he drawing it towards his heart? Providence was really looking after him; no passenger was seated near us, and those whose backs were to us couldn't guess my ordeal.
He placed my hand on his leg, raised the hem of his frock-coat, slid my arm under it, and my hand arrived at his open trousers. My eyes dazed by the fright of being thus commandeered, I tremblingly, my dear Marguerite, magnetized as I was by this incredible, unknown dominator, touched his warm, burning cock, a man's cock, the first I'd ever touched in all my life I touched that which makes men different from us!
Ah, my dear, what was it? A round, thick, long, quivering thing. Doubtless he wanted me to stop its throbbing, for he forcibly kept my hand pressed against it despite my attempts to pull away. How was it no one saw us? This man was a devil. My glove annoyed him. He pulled my hand away from his trousers, and with great calm removed my glove, then made me put my hand back on his cock, half out of his trousers but hidden by the frock-coat he had so artfully pulled over himself.
Stations, stops, nothing bothered him. I was utterly annihilated. My clenched fingers refused to seize the long, hot ,throbbing thing, but he drew my hand this way and that so that my fingers paraded all over his tool. Finally he let me go, and his face was very red.
Since he'd kept my glove, I spoke to him for the first time: "My glove, Monsieur?"
"Ah, pardon, Mademoiselle," he replied.
That was all.
After a few moments, he rose to get off, and as he passed in front of me, he brushed my shoulder with his hand. I was completely prostrated.
What did he want of me now? Did he suppose I'd follow him?
I didn't stir; you'd have thought me nailed to my seat.
Who was this man, this demon who with utter impunity obtained from my weakness that which only after many difficulties one grants an adored lover who begs for such intimate caresses? What genie had taken charge of my being since my arrival in Paris? At my aunt's, transports of inadmissible tenderness had sent me panting between her thighs; on an omnibus, a perfect stranger, a man of more than mature years had put my hand to such shameful usage.
Out of mercy, Marguerite, be indulgent towards me. I haven't the courage to write you any more. Tear up my letter, forget what I've told you, but don't stop loving her who embraces you with all her soul and who calls herself all yours, Your Danielle.
CHAPTER TWO
Marguerite de Marvejane to Danielle Hollaz:
Ah, my dear little Danielle, you'll never know what an impression your letter made on me! And then to tell me you won't write or tell me anything again but, quite the contrary, my angel, you must confide all to your friend, to your Marguerite who is more yours than you know, because your confidences have put me enough to ease to be able at last to reveal to you a secret that has long been burning in my heart.
Dear, dear Danielle, who wouldn't love or desire you? The caresses you gave your aunt, yes, for certain she hungered for them, but how much she must have longed to give them back to you! Perhaps, at this very moment when I write you, she's already done so? If you thus subjugate the senses of a woman, how can an ardent man resist you and why are you astonished that he wants the impossible from you?
Jealous of your pleasures, darling? No, I shan't ever be. Your soul belongs to me, and I reject any feeling that might lead me to hold rancor against anyone on whom your charms have power. And let me now confess, my adored little goose, that since the very first day we met when you arrived at the convent, I desired those charms of yours, without ever having dared tell you how I felt.
Remember when you entered The Birds? Frail, timid, speaking to no one, alone on a bench, so sadly you stole glances at the others. Older than you by two years, coming from having made my first communion, I approached you and said, "Would you like me, Miss, to be your grownup friend?" And, you, raising your eyes with such an expression of tenderness that I was deeply moved, murmured, "Oh, I would like that a lot!" And despite all our teasing and tricks, we've loved each other forever, you know that. How many little things I could cite you in which my inexplicable passion sought to express itself! But I always kept silent so as not to torment you.
But now that you've spoken and bared your heart, you've revived the flame that consumed me for so long, and so in turn I shall unveil myself. My Danielle, I've always dreamed of a scene like the one which made you fall upon your aunt! I had moments of folly, of rage, in which I planned to fling myself at your feet, to beg you to let me love you only to be seized by fear which kept me silent. Ah, if you were beside me now, what I revenge for the past I should take! For you'll consent, won't you? You'll surely give me what you gave her who loves you less than I do. Write me quickly yes, and my life will be gilded with joy. Think that I live with your memory in my soul and that it's paradise I ask of you. While waiting, darling one, I cover with tender caresses all those charms of yours I long to share, and sign myself as yours, all yours-
Your Marguerite.
CHAPTER THREE
Danielle Hollaz to Marguerite de Marvejane:
Never doubt, my Marguerite, that my entire body is at your disposal just as I hope yours is mine in my fantasy. Why haven't you spoken sooner, naughty friend that you are, for you should have been first with me.
You loved me and desired me, but you didn't say so; you mistrusted your Danielle who was so overjoyed by your so short letter! Yes, our souls belong to each other, before our bodies do, and we shan't be jealous. But before telling you the rest of my complicated adventures, let's set the date of your arrival in Paris. I've no need to tell you how impatiently I await you.
My aunt will be married September 20th. So the 20th and 21st will be consecrated to official ceremonies; on the 22nd, there's a country party involving a dozen families, which neither my brother, nor you nor I will attend. So that day, the two of us can tramp the streets and boulevards. So could you come by the 18th at the latest? You'll share my bed, unless I'm repugnant to you, in which case you'll have a room to yourself. Is it settled for the 18th? If your parents want to come, as my aunt suggests there's an apartment they can have quite apart from us.
Do you read between my lines, dearest? All right the moment we're alone, if you are wearing panties, I'll tear them off with my teeth, so now you're warned in advance!
How many things I have to tell you I hardly know where to start.
Well, the same day I sent you my letter, my aunt asked me to come to her room about three in the afternoon. It was very dark, and at first my eyes couldn't make out anything, but gradually I saw Laura, stark naked, standing before her mirror arranging her hair. I approached with tiny steps, knelt down and kissed her hip.
"Danielle," she said,. "
"I called you to have an understanding with you before going out. I thought you would like to take charge of my toilette. Give me a few caresses quickly, but don't rouse me too much, darling."
My lips brushed her navel, her belly, her bottom, ignoring her words, for I admired with all my heart her woman's body. Laura was so beautifully made she could well compare with the Grecian statues we contemplate at the Louvre, and the grace of her poses, her art of arching her curves and embellishing her contours with the slightest movements rendered her like a goddess.
"Enough, little one," she said, alas! "Will you accompany me?"
"Where, my aunt?"
"My aunt!"
"Laura!" I corrected myself, blushing.
"Near this window, where daylight illumines. "Why there."
"Lift up your skirts."
"But-"
"I want to know if you have the instinct of a woman."
"You can see that as I am-"
"Will you kindly lift up your skirts, Danielle? Am I not naked? Oh, you wretch, a fine nature you have! What have you done with your panties, Mademoiselle? Why are your thighs at the mercy of the first comer?"
"The first comer indeed," I said indignantly.
"A hungry wolf leaps through an open door, and you expose yourself readily to a profane hand."
"But I thought that the first comer--" I faltered.
"Will be myself, little girl. Ah, it's perfect and you show a beautiful disposition. I shan't reproach you for anything. But truly, this sweet pussy of yours is adorably made and in its gentle folds there's a warmth which promises a generous nature. Open this tabernacle to my finger, Danielle, part your thighs a little have no fear, I wish you no harm. Turn around now, show me your bottom. Bravo, no hesitation! Oh, what a delicious backside, so delightfully creased pleasure will come to you there too. Now, darling, an accounting of your kisses I owe you. I'm satisfied with all I've seen of your docility. Let's sit down on the sofa and listen carefully to me. I must go out and dine, but I shan't be late coming back. At eleven tonight, all lights will be out in the house, and you'll join me. I shall await you, just as I am, and you'll leave your room wearing only your chemise and a robe, you understand?"
"Yes."
"Do you desire our reunion as much as I do."
"Yes," I murmured in a low voice and with a sigh. "Good! Now hand me my chemise. It's on the bed."
"Oh, what beautiful lingerie you have."
"You think so? Begin with my stockings, but be very good."
"I shan't have the courage."
"Naughty imp, you force me to dismiss you from my service."
When I'd put on her stockings and was at the point of buttoning up her boots, the perfume she wore disturbed my senses, and I asked her: "Why are you so perfumed, Laura?"
"To give you heart, Danielle."
"So much the worse then," I murmured, and I began to caress her passionately.
"Enough, enough, darling, finish dressing me," she breathed. She cupped her titties and drew them out of the chemise.
"Why don't you cover them?" I asked.
"A woman's coquetry, little one. Later, you'll do it yourself."
"Do you mean to show them to your future husband?" I dared ask.
"Curious little vixen," she laughed softly. "Perhaps he's already seen them."
"Do you think so? Give me my skirt."
"No panties?"
"Oh, you indiscreet little hussy, I was wrong in calling you here to be my maid."
"No, no, Laura, don't be angry. Where are you dining this evening?"
"With the Duports."
"Why don't you take me there?"
"A business dinner that would bore you to tears. I prefer to have you prepare yourself for my return." As she was about to leave, she took me by the waist, kissed me on the lips and said, "Till eleven tonight, my beloved little kitten. I promise you the most intoxicating night of your life."
She left me, and I remained in her room to dream of her promise and all it intimated of the most delicious sensations.
Suddenly, on the rug, I saw a piece of paper, a letter, and, on an impulse of great curiosity, I picked it up. Wouldn't you have acted as I did, my Marguerite? At the point where I was with my aunt, it seemed to me that whatever touched her life interested me too, and that it was right for me to know all her actions.
It was indeed a letter, written by Madame Rastegue to my aunt:
"Dear Laura you'll dine tomorrow evening with me at Pierre's. He must be awfully dense. But both of us will find a way to clarify his mind. As soon as you are officially received on the 22nd, you'll be our treasurer. Forgive me for not having yet replied to your request, but it will be soon Yours Palmyra Rastegue."
What didn't my brother Pierre understand? What did that post of treasurer mean? My aunt was rich, had no business dealings that I knew of, why would she be treasurer at the banker Rastegue's? Then, this official reception of the 22nd, it was the same day as the country party which was to follow my aunt's wedding. And finally, what had she asked of Madame Rastegue?
All these questions rose to mind after I'd read that letter. Another fact startled me; Madame Rastegue was using "thee and thou" to my aunt, the intimate form of address, though in front of people, they used the usual "you."
So they were in agreement on the subject of the liaison between Pierre and Madame Rastegue, since Laura would dine with my brother in the company of his mistress, and both of them were plotting some affair of which he knew nothing, it seemed.
Do you think, dear, that a little girl develops quickly when she tastes the sweet sensations of love? Was it that desire which drew me towards Laura? And could a woman, in such a case, be able to love a woman?
I hadn't yet received your letter, so doubts still existed in my mind. Since I read it, my Marguerite, I know now that between women there can be love, since I love you in this way, and love between women has the advantage of procuring pleasure for those involved without attacking the feelings one has for one truly adored.
I held Madame Rastegue's letter in my hands for a long while. Why had Laura assured me that she would dine at the Duports when she was dining elsewhere? What did all these mysteries mean?
While I was plunged into these reflections, Miss Kattaud, the children's governess, came to announce a visitor to me. I hid the letter and went back to the salon.
Madame Beausire and Mademaiselle Marie Rastegue, the two sisters of the banker, charming as were all those of that family, were waiting for me there. They came to invite us to spend the following Sunday and the entire day at the Beausire's in their country home at Fontenay-les-Roses, where they were staying for the entire year. The unusual part of this invitation consisted in a kind of "hen party" for young girls which was planned by these ladies, and they asked me to join them. Lucie Vautrin, Marie Rastegue, Georgette Caprini and I would, once lunch was over, have every privilege of going wherever we wished and coming back when we liked, in a word acting like American girls without any chaperone.
You can imagine that such a proposition filled me with joy, and certain of my aunt's consent, I hastily accepted.
Marie, the oldest of us all, a ravishing blonde of twenty, her hair in neat ringlets, was the only blonde of the party. Lucie and Georgette were brunettes like myself.
This Georgette Caprinia is a devilish girl of sixteen, the sister-in-law of Monsieur Sifferland who loves her with a keen affection. This affection, on the several occasions when we had met at the Duports, had astonished me so much that I talked to my aunt about it, going into ecstasies on Madame Sifferland's beauty, she being a young woman of nineteen and who was not in the least concerned with the tenderness which her husband showed her own sister.
"My child," Laura had replied to me, "leave to those of evil mind the right of criticizing the affection which unites the members of the same family. Be Georgette's friend and she will soon love you as much as Lucie loves you already." That was all she had said.
After the departure of Madame Beausire and her sister, we sat down to table. The meal was sad. My great uncle was suffering from gout, so that the children weren't allowed to talk very much. Miss Kattaud conserved her usual impassiveness. At an early hour I went back to my room and examined again this famous letter. Should I give it back to my aunt? That would vex her, and I didn't want that at all. Should I keep it? Then wouldn't I be exposed to reproaches if it were found in my possession?
I decided to burn it after having memorized all that it said.
At ten o'clock I heard Laura return. Silence dwelt in the house. Clad in a simply chemise under my robe, at eleven o'clock exactly I walked towards my aunt's apartment. I was moved, as one must be for a first rendezvous of love indeed, wasn't this one?
At the moment I was about to open her door, it seemed to me that someone was speaking. I couldn't help listening.
I wasn't wrong someone was talking with Laura. Who was it? A man my brother.
I almost wept with rage and turned back to my room. Then, calm returning to me, I wanted to know what they were saying, so I went back, put my ear to the door, and I followed all their conversation.
My aunt was saying: "You're not reasonable, my dear Pierre, you're much too exclusive with Palmyra, and that is the way one loses the best love affairs. Madame Rastegue loves you very much, but she's young, rich, a coquette, and a good deal of a courtesan. She's hungry for you and for your demands. She seeks rendezvous in which she risks compromising herself, and your impositions on her will end by carrying away her heart. Now believe me, my friend, believe my experience. Love Palmyra, as you choose, but give her a rival. At your age, one doesn't stop at a single woman, one courts them all, except for keeping perhaps a preference. Love has that much more charm when it is presented in several forms. You are a poet, you've written some rather charming stories; well, live them just as you write them."
"You know my stories, then."
"I love to know everything about those around me, Pierre."
"Do you know, Laura, that these pages, written in the dark of night, had an inspiration. And I would have given all my love to that woman who inspired me if Palmyra had not suddenly taken possession of my senses."
"You had truly before your eyes an exceptional model for your naked characters, Pierre. But why don't you speak to these models, for if I remember correctly, two goddesses reappear ceaselessly in your descriptions one of them . . . very, very young."
"I couldn't!"
"One can always do that, my friend. Remember in the future that a woman is never annoyed by the violent desires she excites, unless she is either a fool or a hypocrite, and that she will often resent treacherous plotting against her."
"Two women torment me, and it has been forbidden for me to admit to you who they are. Whenever the blood grows warm in my veins, I run to other women who laugh at my clumsiness."
"Tell me quickly the names of these two women these two marvels!" my aunt demanded.
"Won't you be angry? You happen to be one of them."
"I, your aunt!"
"My very young aunt, and by alliance."
"And the other?"
"I shall never pronounce her name."
"Why?"
"It would be criminal."
"Your sister Danielle, perhaps?"
"Oh, be silent, be silent!" my brother cried.
It is true, my dear Marguerite, that I should believe what you tell me. That I should suppose that I cast a charm on all those who approach me. And so my own brother was subject to it and, thinking of me, had dared to write erotic stories in which I figured!
There was a moment of silence; then the clock struck the half-hour and my aunt cried: "My God, my dear Pierre, already it's eleven-thirty. In spite of the interest of the subject which concerns us, we must think of leaving and resting. Think over my words and don't drive Palmyra away."
"You send me away, Laura?"
"But, my friend, it's already too late to prolong this conversation."
"I should be disposed to follow your counsel, if you, my inspiration, would consent to become the rival that she invites me to give Palmyra," my brother retorted.
"Indeed, my dear nephew, you certainly give back advice with enough aplomb. But here you ask the impossible."
"Oh, the impossible!" he echoed.
"Impossible . . . today, Pierre. Listen to me, and I speak here in a double aim: obtain from your second model that which you desire in your writing, and she who is your inspiration will not refuse herself."
"Danielle I should solicit Danielle?"
"Well, we're making progress! You pronounce her name now. Upon this, my friend, wish me a good evening and leave. Tomorrow, you will spend the evening here, so reflect and act if your heart tells you so."
"And conscience too."
"When one doesn't have conscience in mind, it takes very little part in the action," my aunt had the last word. I hid in a dark little closet as Pierre went out.
I was suffocated. To what new adventure was I to be delivered? Ought I to tell my aunt what I thought of this? But I could do nothing; my dear friend. The events were going on, the senses were wakening, exercising over all my being an irresistible pressure. Perhaps I was sowing love, so why should I not harvest it as well?
Laura had accompanied my brother to the door. She returned and found me in her room. "You're on time, little one," she told me.
"Yes, I was there."
"You hear, then?"
"Indeed I did."
"Marvelous. That avowal testifies in favor of your feminine sense and of the boldness of your resolution. You promise to be of an elite nature."
"Was it by design that you delayed the moment of my visit," I asked, for the first time using the "thee and thou" of intimacy with my aunt.
"Yes, my beautiful darling. I had guessed what was hidden in Pierre's mind, and I wanted you to know it."
"Why?"
"Why? Because I want you to experience unknown voluptuousness from others, because I wish that, once you know Pierre's secret you will aid him to form into what I hope from him. To yield or not to yield, there is no question of being a girl of no virtue, so long as we have the approbation and the affection of those we love. Let Pierre learn, thanks to you, the unknown and forbidden pleasure, and he will taste of all the pleasure we shall sow upon his footsteps. As for you, Danielle, you will study in him a man under exceptional conditions, a study which will render you all the stronger for the future. But enough of that now. Let us think only of ourselves. Are you tormented by what you heard and by what I've told you?"
"And will you tell it to him too?"
"Yes, if you'll agree to yield to him."
"And your husband?"
"I don't concern myself with him."
While we were talking, she had stripped naked, and the effect of her nudity began to excite my senses. I tried to seize her around the waist, but she proffered her mouth, and murmured, "Wait, we'll be better in bed. Take off your chemise."
I hesitated. What, show myself naked? She guessed my thoughts; with a rapid motion, she lifted my chemise up to my chin and then wound it round my neck and, laughing at my embarrassment, she exclaimed as she touched my navel and my pussy-fur: "Do you think yourself different from me? No, you're not. Here, to the devil with your chemise, I must force you, it seems there you are naked. Come in front of this mirror and look at yourself. You will lose nothing at all by this. What darling little titties, how happy they will make your lovers! First, yes, I shall be first, I shall kiss them and suck them. My gracious, how firm they are! And what a lovely silky growth between your lovely thighs, my Danielle. Ah, and your bottom is delicious, as is your white skin and your rounded thighs, your fine saucy calves. Truly, you have no reason to envy the most beautiful woman in the world, and you may boldly show yourself to me as well as naked to the most discriminating lover! But what do I see here? It is a mount of Venus such as few women have. Nature has spoiled you. No man shall take your maidenhead, it will belong to me, and you will see that in my arms, through the experience which I have acquired, I shall be for you the most tender and ardent of friends and lovers."
She turned me this way and that, her hands roaming all over my body, then she began to "kiss me here and there, delighting and exciting me with a thousand little touches and caresses.
Sometimes kneeling, sometimes on all fours, sometimes standing, she took possession of all my body, guiding from time to time my hand between her thighs or opening up my bottom-cheeks and probing her little finger into the rosette to accustom me to every game, as she said.
Then she probed my pussy, and at her gesture, I did the same for her; our bellies rubbed together. Then, by means of a pressure of her arms, she drew me to her, and rubbed herself gently, pussy to pussy, while I felt myself gradually flooded by an incomprehensible ecstasy.
She led me to her bed, and there we achieved indescribable caresses. We were truly insatiable. Hardly had we manifested the desire to stop than we began again. I had the same fury for her flesh that she had for mine. Now that she had initiated me into caresses I had never known before, I was inspired to seek to plunge my tongue as deep as I could into her pussy, after I had first licked the saucy rounds of her bare bottom. A few minutes later, she left me alone to go to her bathroom. I saw her return with something yellowish which was attached to her belly and thighs, a bizarre instrument which resembled a man's cock.
Taking advantage of my surprise and also my uneasiness, she placed me on my back, installed herself between my legs, and I felt that, with much delicacy and care, she was prodding her instrument just a little below the button of my clitoris.
Regaining my confidence, I helped her all I could. Meanwhile her lips never stopped sucking my mouth or my titties, her hands squeezed my bottom or ran down my thighs and then tickled my pussy, introducing her middle finger till I was drowning in full delight. The instrument she wielded so cleverly little by little began to penetrate into me. A delirious voluptuousness made my limbs abandon themselves more and more. And then, my Marguerite, it went so well that the instrument plunged almost all the way by itself and Laura embraced me feverishly, hastening her kisses, grinding her belly against mine in a thousand maddening wriggling attacks.
What was happening? I was no longer conscious of anything. Voluptuous passion had borne away my spirit. Grasped in her arms, I tried to grind my belly against hers, to make our flesh one, while she, advancing or recoiling, probed or withdrew her instrument. She was truly my lover, as she had promised; she truly possessed my virginity as she had announced she would. Half swooning, I bit her on the shoulder; Laura, seizing me, clung to me for a last time, mouth to mouth, titties to titties, belly to belly, thighs entwined.
We did not stir. Our disheveled hair streamed about our faces, and we formed only a single naked body. The clock struck two-thirty. We fell asleep thus, and when I woke it was broad day.
I found myself alone in my aunt's bed, and the lowered shades prevented me from distinguishing the exact hour of the day. I drew them a little, and then Laura, quite dressed and ready to go out, approached, asking: "How are you?"
"I don't know. A little tired."
"Then sleep."
"No. What time is it."
"Ten o'clock."
"Already? Why did you leave?"
"I have things to do in this house, my dear one. I told the old uncle and Miss Kattaud that you were indisposed and that I had taken you into my room to look after you."
"We slept like that without a chemise?"
"Yes. Do you want yours?"
"No, not yet, first I'm going to wash."
"Bravo, my little Danielle, I'm happy to see that you've lost all your timidity."
Laura helped me dress, and before we went back to the dining room, she said to me: "I lost, yesterday in my room, a letter. Did you pick it up by chance, Danielle?"
"No, my aunt, I would not have kept it."
Don't I lie boldly, dear Marguerite? If I hadn't burned the letter, I should have confessed to Laura, but now it was too late.
All day long I felt very tired and I didn't have the courage to go to Lucie Vautrin as we'd agreed. And so, without any other incident, we finally arrived at Pierre's famous evening. To tell you the truth, I had a certain curiosity to see exactly .hat would happen, and I promised myself that if he made advances, I wouldn't recoil. He was very punctual. We dined in family style, and after the meal we went to the salon. We chatted. He was very pale, often looking at Laura and paying no attention to me. In a corner, the two of them spoke in a low voice for a good half hour, while, occupying myself with a piece of embroidery, I chatted with the uncle.
Pierre appeared to be sad and bored. In no way did he show the attitude of a boy resolved in attacking a girl. Was I to guess this? When the old uncle finally left, Laura said to us: "My children, I have a few letters to write, so I'm going to leave you together. You must have things to discuss, I'm sure.
A brother is a sister's best friend, and a sister is the most indulgent friend of a brother."
With this, she left. I was quite red with embarrassment, and Pierre came to sit down beside me in an armchair. "My little Danielle," he murmured, "I shall be a very bad companion, for I'm vexed."
"My God," I cried, as I stopped my embroidery, "you have troubles and you won't confide them to me?"
"Why should I disturb your tranquil mind, my dear? There are confidences, you know, which one doesn't speak of to a young girl."
"You're in love, Pierre, and you're unhappy in your love. Tell me what's happened to you, because it will lighten your heart."
"Yes, I love, Danielle, and I'm afraid of being in stronger hands than my own. I'm being tortured."
"You terrify me! What? Madame Rastegue must be a wicked women."
"Who told you her name, little one, and how do you know?" he demanded.
"Well, my little Pierre, a girl of seventeen is wiser than a man of twenty and even of thirty. I guessed your secret. So you can go on and talk without hesitating."
"Since you demand it, so be it. It will console me to know that your heart is compatible with mine."
"Oh, you can be sure of that, my dear Pierre!"
I put into that exclamation such warmth that my brother's eyes fixed on me and I blushed again. He was tactful enough, however, not to perceive it, and he began his story.
I confide this to you, my darling Marguerite, because, like myself, you have a presentiment of mysteries and of nuances which point to a goal that one pursues for my brother and for myself. I seem to sense already that things are going on about us of which neither of us may know the final end, but which remain terribly important to us both. Perhaps, with your good sense and your intuitive wisdom, my dear friend, you can aid me in discovering the very heart of this.
"You may remember," Pierre told me, "the evening when Madame Rastegue dined for the first time in this house. To see that young, beautiful and elegant woman, I should never have dared to hope for the happiness that awaited me a few hours later. And yet, Danielle, excuse me for speaking thus, that same night she became my mistress. How it happened, so quickly, how I became so successful in so short a time, I haven't the slightest idea. But my happiness surpassed all my dreams. Then for a week I didn't see her again. She had told me to wait, so I waited. Finally she let me know that she would give me an entire week, away from Paris, and that I should meet her at the Saint-Lazare station. Our aunt had been warned of this from another source. I almost died with joy, and you yourself haven't forgotten the extravagant behavior I seemed to have at that point in my life. Well, at the station, I met Palmyra with her sister-in-law, Madame Beausire. And she presented me in these terms: 'Here's my cavalier, Monsieur Pierre Hollaz.' 'What a charming boy,' the sister-in-law replied."
Pierre went on: "Our trip seemed to be a very natural thing. We held hands, exchanged little bits of meaningless gossip, trying to look like two very proper people, and I bought tickets for Le Havre. As we were going towards the waiting room, we met some friends of these ladies. One of them was going the same direction that we were. So we agreed to travel together, which would be more pleasant. Our companions were Monsieur and Madame Thresse. He was about forty, and his wife, twenty-five, a splendid brunette beauty, contrasted with Palmyra's blonde beauty. The other two ladies were the Misses Pellen whom you already know, the sisters of Madame Thresse, of the supposed Madame Thresse, for on the trip I learned that she was really Madame Nassau, who was going off for a rendezvous with Monsieur Thresse.
"To detail for you the things that happened on the trip would be superfluous. I never stopped kissing Palmyra and she gave me back caress for caress. Our companions showed more discretion in the expression of their tenderness, because doubtless their love was more steadfast and not quite so new. When we got to Le Havre, we stopped at the same hotel and took two separate rooms. The three first days, we didn't go about too much, and we saw one another only at mealtime. Then, we began to mingle together a little more after that. I was happy as I've never been before when I heard Monsieur Thresse pay so many compliments to my beloved Palmyra. I wasn't jealous, I was twenty and he was forty, and besides, his mistress was really magnificently beautiful. But she, however, often showed signs of impatience and treated me as if I were a little wretch, though I don't know why. Since our return, especially since that week, many things have illumined my mind about it. On the sixth, Palmyra asked me to get up at seven in the morning and go check the list of passengers at the Transatlantic Company so I could find out whether a lady by the name of Maurepin was on it. It took me about three hours. When I came back to our room, I found Palmyra still in bed, and I saw someone in a nightshirt was leaving through the door that connected with the room of Monsieur Thresse. I was so astonished that Palmyra laughed and said to me: "You scared Natalie who came to borrow my brushes since she couldn't find hers. You may rest assured, I'm sure our friend Monsieur Thresse wouldn't have the same jealousy that is now entering your mind."
" T believe you,' I replied, 'and I'm not jealous.' I approached the bed. Palmyra was naked and very warm. She kissed me, then pushed me back so she could get up. Madame Thresse cried at that moment: 'Come wish us happiness, Monsieur Pierre, I'm back in bed.' Understanding that this was a kind of invitation, I crossed the threshold of the Thresses' room. There were our two friends in bed, the woman seated on the edge in a very elegant housecoat, the man naked and with his back to me.
" 'Isn't he nice?' Natalie observed as she offered me her hand. I said to her, T was afraid of offending our young friend's modesty.'
" 'And you offend mine,' she replied as she turned and slapped him on the behind.
" 'Have you found the brushes?' I asked. "'Yes, thank you.'
" 'Why didn't you take them with you, I saw them in the bathroom,' I asked her.
' 'I already used them,' she replied to me as she tossed her head with an impertinent little air."
Well, Marguerite, you may imagine how I was surprised to hear all this from Pierre. He went on: "Frankly, could I suspect that Natalie was in favor of a rendezvous of love between her lover and Palmyra? Of course I couldn't, Daiuelle, and yet that's what it was."
I said to my brother: "You mustn't abuse yourself, my dear."
"But she confessed it to me, that very afternoon," he reported with a frown.
"Oh!" I said, Marguerite. "Yes, my little sister. After I don't know what conversation between all three of them, Monsieur Thresse, who desired Palmyra, arranged matters so well that Natalie herself solicited on his account my own mistress and she, quite delighted at the change, or so she told me cynically, agreed to it. The moment I had gone, Palmyra opened the communicating door between the two rooms and received in her bed the naked Monsieur Thresse. Forgive me for telling you all this, but you insisted that I do."
"Poor Pierre, how you must have suffered!"
"Not at Le Harve, but since our return, yes. After that day of the little episode with the brushes, Palmyra was less coquettish with Monsieur Thresse, and Natalie's little sulky fits stopped. We got along famously, or so it seemed. We returned to Paris and left them there. En route, Palmyra, who was more and more loving, told me to rent an apartment in town so that she could visit me often, and of course I consented. I installed myself not far from her. The first few days rolled by in constant enchantment. Every afternoon, she gave me two hours. Every fourth day, she stayed all night. Then her visits grew shorter, and less frequent. In vain I sought to meet her again, but she avoided me. Those moments that she did give me were shadowed by false quarrels. Perhaps for nothing at all she would leave, mock me, ridicule my way of thinking and of living. She affected a scepticism as regards love, feeling that a man who loves only one woman doesn't know how to love and is an egotist. She even said to me, 'Pierre, you're a fool. You will lose my love because you're too wise, too calm. Take another mistress. Only then will I know the force of your love.'
"All the while she overwhelmed with these harsh words, when I sometimes glanced at her stealthily, I could read in her eyes a real tenderness, and so of course I kept on loving her. And then about a week later, she said to me, 'Pierre, you're too faithful, you'll make us unhappy. Would you like to sleep with my sister, Leonie, or with my sister-in-law Adrienne? Speak. This evening, the one you choose will be in your arms.'
" 'Oh,' I told her, 'I want only you and I shall have only you.'
"She stamped her foot spitefully and said to me: "Goodbye, we shan't see each other again."
Poor Pierre what he must have suffered, Marguerite! He kept telling me the story and I have tried faithfully to remember every word because it is so vital: "I flung myself at her feet, I kissed the hem of her dress, I begged her to spurn me with her heel. She took pity on me, covered me with caresses, and I possessed her for the last time. The other evening she came to dine with our aunt. She brought the conversation around to this famous episode. Laura told her she was right; Palmyra wants a rival with the ardor that others bring to not wanting one. I accompanied our aunt here, I had decided to finish with Palmyra, because she herself advised it. I was dreaming of the impossible and it wasn't happening. Today Palmyra came, she didn't even allow me to kiss her, and before I had the time to question her as to how she had spent her time, she coldly avowed that since she had known me, she had put into practice the advice she had given me and had had several lovers. She said to me: 'The week when you had me, I gave myself to an old gentlemen to oblige one of my friends. At Le Havre, Henry Thresse left my bed when you came back from the Transatlantic Company. Here, many men have had me.'
" 'Palmyra! Palmyra!' I cried, bursting into sobs.
"' You're too lyrical. Goodbye, and this is definite. When you've changed your manner of life, we may think it over again. In love, I love pleasure, but I hate absurd sentimentality.' She left me after these words, and here I am. Now you know all my unhappiness, my little sister."
"Poor Pierre," I said to him, when he had finished telling me all this, "I should never have suspected so much cold cruelty from Madame Rastegue. But then why not obey her? In your place, I should have decided myself to do so. But when she offered you her sister Leonie or her sister-in-law Adrienne, why didn't you take her at her word? They're both lovely women, and they are all that a lover might desire."
"To go at them like that, Danielle, out of a whim of Palmyra's, wouldn't that be to expose myself to being ridiculous and grotesque?" my brother answered. "They're so elegant, so refined, so coquettish, that I should be afraid of my slightest act."
"You might have pretended that you were still having an affair with Madame Rastegue," I murmured.
At this point, my aunt appeared and laughingly said, "What? You're still gossiping? Night is passing without my really having time with you two."
"What time is it?"
"Eleven o'clock," my aunt said.
"Then this is the time to go to bed."
"Pierre," my aunt intervened, "they've fixed your room. You're free to sleep here if you wish."
"I thank you, my aunt. I shall take advantage of your offer."
So we kissed one another good night and each one went into his room. Pierre's room was separated from mine only by the bathroom, and both our doors opened on the same corridor. On the threshold of his room, my brother said to me, "Good night, little sister."
"Good night, Pierre. Console yourself and think of others maybe Madame Rastegue is right."
Alone in my room, while I undressed, I couldn't stop thinking over Pierre's adventure. Something told me that Laura and Palmyra were in accord and that both of them were nurturing secret intentions towards us both but what were these intentions?
Having finished my preparations for the night, I combed my hair and then following an old habit of mine, in my chemise. I opened the bathroom door in order to leave my dress so that the chambermaid might take it there in the morning and clean it.
Hardly had I opened the door when the opposite door opened and Pierre appeared in his under drawers. Our eyes met and we understood. He was very pale. Without a word, he entered into my room, after having closed both doors, and we were side by side on my bed. He took me by the waist, bent to my ear: "She wanted to give me her sisters but I wanted my own."
"What do you say of that, Marguerite? Already his hands, under my chemise, were tickling my pussy-fur and the button of my clitoris; my lips were pressed to his, and with a sigh, I murmured, "Take me."
His under drawers slid down before I could perceive it. He bent me back, spreading my thighs, his belly approached mine, and I closed my eyes.
They didn't disturb us. I experienced neither hesitation nor shame, nor did he. He slept at my side, holding on to me as a child might to its mother, and I did the same to him. I struggled very little under his possession of me. Was I still virginal? More than two hours later, we remained together, and when he left me, I said to him, "Little Pierre, no matter what mistress you have, if she torments you, come back to me and we shall console ourselves together."
"Yes, my little Danielle, and we shall always love each other by our senses and by our ideals."
Well, my dear Marguerite, that is the continuation of my adventures. I should doubtless have so many more things to tell you, but I am saving them for my next letter. No, your friend is not a virgin any longer, and yet she doesn't repent having taken that step which made a girl a woman. Write me quickly, don't hide a single bit of your thought in my mind, in my heart, you are everywhere. A thousand caresses I send you all over your lovely body which belongs to me.
Your Danielle.
CHAPTER FOUR
Marguerite de Marvejane to Danielle Hollaz:
My adored Danielle, with what speed a history of love builds up about you. Who would not desire you and how happy those must be who have tasted your lips! I'm not jealous, I can't be, I know that your heart beats with mine.
I live for your letters, and I experience what you experience. All that you've told me overwhelms me, excites me. My excited senses do not know where to find appeasement, suggest to me a thousand acts of foolishness through which appears, like a luminous glow, the date of the eighteenth.
Yes, yes, on that day I shall be in your arms. My parents have allowed me to go alone. They can't accompany me and have written to your aunt to thank her. But oh, how far off this day of the eighteenth is, and I shall die till it comes. So I too have something to confess in my turn. Since adventures don't come to me, I have gone to them, and you have helped me.
Will you pardon me if I've badly acted? But you see, the story of your brother gave me an idea.
Knowing the hotel where he had stopped, I wanted to find out if Monsieur and Madame Thresse were still there. They hadn't left Le Havre and had installed themselves in a furnished apartment. I was given their address as soon as I explained that I had a communication to convey to them from one of my friends. Well, I presented myself while they were dining. I told them that your brother desired to have news of them. You'll arrange it so that they don't make a liar of me, I know.
Well, they were charming, and they asked me so much about you and your aunt. Then they accompanied me and pleased my parents so much that they kept them to dinner and which they accepted on the condition that the next day I would be allowed to go have lunch with them. Now why did I do that, my Danielle?
Because I was mad with excitement and because I saw here only the way of being compromised. I don't tell things as well as you, so forgive me if I make them so quick and jerky. But my waiting was not deceived.
All during lunch, Monsieur Thresse's gaze did not leave me for a single moment. Oh, he's quite a man. I don't have to write to you all the nice things I said about you, and what a lovely woman that supposed Madame Thresse is! They assured me that they would be at your aunt's marriage. I believe that they are homesick for Paris. They asked a few rather strange questions on the subject of the friendships which I had made in Paris. I told them that you were the only one with whom I had continuous relations.
After we talked a little bit about your aunt, they let me know what had happened between you two, and you can just guess my surprise! It seems that your aunt frequently corresponds with them. The Rastegues, the Beausires, and the Duports are their intimate friends. "In Paris," they told me, "You'll be one of us, and we'll marry you off." This talk of marriage made me blush. Monsieur Thresse perceived this, smiled and added: "Nice and gracious as you are, a good husband will be easy to find for you."
The meal was very gay and it lasted a long time.
I don't know to what to attribute my state of mind, but it seemed to me that I was living your life, and that with Monsieur and Madame Thresse, I was almost becoming you. After this meal, they obtained from my parents permission that I accompany them on all their walks and tours, and they are very sympathetic. Of course, you know that my father and my mother spoil me excessively.
Yesterday, in the afternoon, when I came to them, Madame Thresse, who had gone out on some errands, hadn't yet returned. My maid had left me at their door. My heart was beating very loudly, because here I was alone with Monsieur Thresse. Hardly had I seated myself in the armchair when he said to me, standing before me, "My child, the face of those I love is like a book I know how to read. Whatever they think, whatever they desire, I see. Although we haven't known each other very long, I love you very much and you shall have the proof."
Startled by this beginning, I couldn't speak. "You believe me to be Natalie's husband," he continued. "That is not the case. Moreover, I am a priest."
"A priest?" I cried.
"Sshh, keep your voice down, you are the only one who knows this here. You have come on behalf of Monsieur Hollaz. This young man, the brother of your dear friend, left Paris with Madame Rastegue the same time that we did. Now Monsieur Rastegue, who is Palmyra's husband, knows that his wife went on a trip with Pierre, just as Monsieur Nassau, Natalie's husband, knows that I am with his wife. There is no hatred or jealousy between these gentlemen and ourselves, and we live in an accord so that nothing troubles us. This is to say to you that we are a reunion of friends, exempt from prejudice and ready to live as we believe. There is an absolute solidarity between us. If I can judge now by the shadows that I see on your lovely face, and the glow mounting from those beautiful, lowering eyes of yours, you doubtless can guess, despite yourself perhaps, the influence of the relation which is established between your friend Danielle and others of our circle, and that you are now seeking us so that we may welcome you. And I grasp what is passing in your mind, my child."
I was very, very red. He took hold of my hand, lifted me from my chair, drew me against him, and his eyes fixing mine, said to me: "Are you a virgin?"
Tell me why my teeth were chattering? There wasn't a word between us any more; he picked me up in his arms as if I had been a feather, and laid me on the bed. My God, how I suffered! Were those the sensations so well described by you? Without undressing either of us, he fell upon me. The thing you spoke of dug furiously between my thighs, and amid my stifled cries, blood sprang forth under his thrusts. He introduced his organ into me, plunging me into atrocious sufferings, mingled with a maddening sensuality.
"Virgin, virgin," he muttered jerkily, without taking the least concern of my pleas and sobs. Yes, my Danielle, now I am like you, I am no longer a virgin. Yet I didn't have all those delicious preludes which surrounded your transformation. My chemise was soiled, my petticoats rumpled, my dress torn that's what made me frantic when I came to. He was pondering. "We've been imprudent," he said. "We must think of repairing the damages which my brutality led me to. Will you pardon me?"
I had only strength enough left to weep.
"Look, my child," he resumed, "don't be disconsolate. Natalie is a woman of resource, she will rid us from embarrassment. When you're in Paris, you won't think of this any more, except to laugh at the adventure. Meanwhile, go into the bathroom. You'll find all you need to freshen yourself and remove these annoying traces of our folly."
He saw how much I was overcome, and although I blushingly and tearfully protested, he helped me in a very knowing way to take care of what I had to do, such as sponging and douching you know.
At this moment, the sound of footsteps told us that Madame Nassau I give her back her real name was coming in.
"Ah," I cried. "I'm lost!"
"Fear nothing, I'm going to her." He left me alone. I had finished dressing and I examined my skirts. My dress and my petticoats would pass muster, but my chemise and my panties, in tatters, would betray me.
Madame Nassau entered, came very close to me, cupped my chin, then kissed me twice on each cheek and said: "Poor little one, you deserved a gentler start. Well, my dear child, don't be afraid, there are many ways of arranging all this. It's only a matter of a new chemise and panties. First of all, I'll replace them with my own. I'm taller than you, it's true, and doubtless we don't have exactly the same measurements, but everything can be modified. The panties of a woman and the panties of a young girl are very much alike. Now take yours off, and don't be unhappy. We shall be very good friends one day."
"Oh, I love you already, you're so good," I sobbed.
"Why, it's marvelous, we're almost the same size. But I'll admit to you that I put them on as little as possible. Now let's see your chemise."
"I should never dare to show it to you."
"Hush, dear, am I not a woman, and haven't I had the same thing happen to me? Now, we have to repair the harm, so let it be done. Oh, the brute. He must have been mad. He spoiled you, poor child. You need treatments and baths. I'll give you the recipe. Unbutton yourself, darling, so I can look at the top of your chemise. That's more difficult to replace than the panties. But I think we can do it. Let's not lose too much time. It's nothing simpler than to buy one like it and have the maid go out for it."
"Oh, Madame! Then everybody will know!"
"What! Can't I have the whim of buying a chemise like yours? I'll buy half a dozen. Besides, it's in very good taste. Take it off, I'll send Henri out and that's it"
"With all the blood on it?"
"You little innocent, we'll cut it in two, and he'll take the top part."
I flung my arms around Madame Nassau's neck and I hurried to obey her. As I was about to take off my chemise, I nonetheless had a certain hesitation at the idea of letting myself be shown all naked. Natalie comprehended my thought, and taking the scissors, said to me, "Take it off quickly or I'll cut it off." So I resigned myself, and while I put on one of her housecoats, she carried it away to give it to Henri. I was saved.
My dear Danielle, has your friend been guilty in trying to taste those pleasure which you painted so famously? Now tell me, and tell me that you love me just the same, just as I loved you just the same when you became a woman.
Until Monsieur Thresse returned, Madame Nassau had the tact to try to distract me by telling me the story of her trip. She didn't know that he had told me already what it was.
"I noticed him already when he visited our house," she confided to me, "and I was attracted to him by a delirious passion. So it was my idea to leave Paris for some time. I thought I had him in my possession, because I was so egotistic in acting this way so I might see him and he might visit me without being too far apart. Darling, if you want to be happy, always remember this: a man doesn't know how to be faithful long to the same woman, so never build upon masculine constancy. A man who is too faithful is so for two reasons: either the occasion is lacking to him, or he lacks initiative. From the third day of our stay in Le Havre, I surmised between my friend Palmyra and Henri a look whose meaning troubled me a good deal. I rebuked Palmyra a little, and she told me I was dreaming. Remember this too, little one: if you don't want to suffer, never be jealous of another woman. With a woman who seeks the man you love, it's better to go right straight to the mark and permit this woman to have her little love affair rather than to expose yourself to losing your own happiness by building a rivalry that will always turn upon the very person who has every right to be jealous.
I spoke to Henri and he only defended himself weakly. I took a whole day to decide, then I pushed the two of them together. Thanks to doing this, I've kept Henri. Now the marriage of Madame Hollaz returns us to Paris. In love, my dear child, there's nothing eternal except memory. Possession wears out desire; you must spice it to give it birth again. My husbands, my sisters, our friends, all of us have understood things to be like this, and you will understand it all in your turn."
I profited from her words by asking her a question about her family. She smiled and said to me: "My husband is the best of men and we are very much in love. My two sisters, Madeleine and Clara, live with us and are the friends of your friend. I'm sure they'll become yours too."
Henri came back rather soon, and successfully presented the chemises. So my accident was a thing of the past.
But today, my Danielle, what fatigue and what suffering I still have! I feel scorched and seared! Even my parents have noted the alteration of my features and are a little uneasy about it. I told them that I fell down but didn't really hurt myself. I could hardly wait to write you this letter and open my heart, and now it's for you to scold me and condemn me if I have defected in being your love and your friend. What kisses must I send you to end this confession? The most tender and the gentlest I can give you, my dearly beloved.
Your Marguerite.
CHAPTER FIVE
Danielle Hollaz to Marguerite de Marvejane:
YOU WICKED FRIEND, DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT MY HEART?
To condemn you, my adored one, you know I should never have the courage. I love you the more as my adventures become complicated and yours begin. To scold you that's another thing, and I shall do so.
In trying to emulate me, my dear Marguerite, you ran the terrible risk of becoming pregnant, without even being led to this adventure by the desire of your own heart, and only because, as you tell me, my letters inflamed your senses!
Should I stop scolding you in my fear of being really responsible for the terrible risk you took? Don't you deserve every rebuke? Marguerite, Marguerite, I'm not your devil, but I scold you because you didn't fight this vertigo and have the patience to wait a few days, and above all because you didn't consider the difference in our situations.
If anything bad happened to me, the parents whom I love and on whom I depend would not overwhelm me with reproaches; they would simply see to it that the crisis was averted. Moreover, these adventures to which I lent such a passive role rather more than an active one, created such agitation in me that I think it would be very difficult to be taught you know what I mean.
But you, quite the contrary, the daughter of a military officer who has retired to Le Harve, you, living at the side of a mother and a father who were constantly aware of what interests you, how could you hide a pregnancy; how would you take care of yourself, how could you come to term without dying a thousand times of fear and despair!
Since the harm is done, if s a question of foreseeing the future. I've scolded you, now let's look for the remedy together.
The only one I see is marriage, and we'll talk about this together. So prepare yourself from this moment forth to submit to an avalanche of suitors while you stay in Paris. You say you'll protest? No, my Marguerite, the husband we shall find for you will be worthy of you and for us. As for Monsieur L'Abbe Thresse, as soon as I meet him, I shall tear his eyes out. He isn't going to act this way with a treasure like my Marguerite.
I must resume my recital now after the nocturnal visit that I had from Pierre. It was a strange thing.
The more one finds oneself amid unexpected events and sensations, the mind seeks to retain impressions to transmit them to memory, and later to communicate them to those one loves. For the first time in my life, on that next morning, I lay abed lazily. In the prey of a soft languor, I dreamt of the sacrifice which had taken place that past night under such exceptional circumstances. I dreamed of my aunt's love, of yours, and I saw myself amid these intoxicating images and found what an immense scope love was taking in my existence. What a road I had traveled in so short a time, I told myself.
A few weeks before, the slightest futility was of interest to me. The children's chatter amused me, so did the constrained airs of Miss Kattaud, the well-worn tales of my great uncle, the news of the shop in which my aunt has a financial interest, the sight of the passersby all this distracted me. Now a single clarity illumines my mind, the memory of scenes that I have lived through, the hope of new erotic fantasies.
Yes, my darling, to you who are the best part of myself, I avow everything without omitting anything. I have a hope that these adventures which have assailed me are only the prelude to a life without parallel in which love will take a place of honor and that a mystery of nameless voluptuousness will soon be revealed to me entirely.
I foresee this in the behavior of my aunt towards me, in the confidences of my brother about Palmyra Rastegue, in what happened to me since my last letter, in what you tell me about Monsieur Thresse and his companion. If I divine correctly, you shall have your part in these joys which will be served me, and the festivals which will acclaim me will salute you also.
Love, you now know, is a violent master who demands slaves everywhere he presents himself. He gives suffering to those who pretend to limit him to the narrow union of two beings; he gives voluptuousness to those who recognize him as the sovereign god of all material acts. Everything is pale when he is not there to color the moments of solitude. Everything lights up when he reigns in the heart and in the senses. That is what I am thinking in my bed, and I perhaps wouldn't have got. up at all if my aunt hadn't shown herself.
"You're still abed, Danielle?" she cried.
I opened my arms to her.
"Do you deserve a kiss?" she demanded.
"Yes, I want to whisper to you."
She sat down on the edge of the bed, and then in a very low voice I told her: "I bad Pierre last night."
"I know that"
"Ah!"
She looked at me and smiled and said: "I was behind the door when you received him. I went away, of course. You did well, and so did he. This night will count more in your future than you imagine. To go towards it is to conquer the difficulty. And since at the very start you went as far as one could go, from now on it will not take long for you to be a valiant girl worthy of the good husband we shall find for you."
"A husband?" I asked.
"For society, you must have one. A husband is for an intelligent woman only a cloak that covers her and defends her against imbeciles."
"You will marry me off?"
"Not long after myself, yes."
"Have you someone in mind?"
"Yes and no."
"Tell me quickly whom?"
"No, darling, get up, it's time you were, you know."
"And Pierre?"
"Went back to his place."
"Already?"
"There's an 'already,' you little minx, which says a good deal. I shall keep you here tonight, unless you're tired. We'll see later if Pierre meets with Palmyra."
"She doesn't love him, he's wrong to go to her."
"Yes, you little fool, she does love him, and it is because she loves him so much that she acts this way. A love that is too personal is a menace to the tranquility of those who feel it, so countermeasures must be taken."
"That is why she offered him her sisters."
"That's why he had you."
"So under those circumstances, I was a proxy for a heaven-shattering love. Thank you very much," I said icily.
"In other circumstances, others will fill the same need for you, so don't concern yourself," she told me.
At lunch, in front of all the family, Laura told me: "Danielle, from today on, I give you permission to come and go all by yourself as you like. You're a serious girl in whom I have the greatest of confidence. Besides, it's good that you leam life for yourself, knowing how to find your way on the streets and the boulevards. Don't let yourself be picked up by anyone, and remember that you have a rather handsome dowry, so don't compromise yourself."
"What, go out alone as I wish, you authorize that, my dear aunt?"
"Of course."
"Oh, what happiness! I'm going to try this liberty at once."
"Mademoiselle has illusions," interrupted Miss Kattaud. "In England where young ladies are freer than in France, they aren't at all concerned with this sort of circulation."
" Anyway, I shall go out at once," I declared. My aunt kissed me and, my lunch over, I hurried out, mad with joy. All I wanted was to take a walk, to go forward, to look at the shops, to concern myself with no one, that's all I thought of.
In the mirror, I addressed myself a thousand grimaces, a thousand smiles, and I left. I didn't have the slightest embarrassment. Besides, wasn't I already a woman, and moreover, didn't I possess a certain knowledge of my personality! I walked straight towards the great boulevards. What an agitation, what crowds I had never seen so many people. I walked very proudly and in a very dignified way. And the people who looked at me didn't bother me in the least.
On the Boulevard of the Italians, I began to lose countenance. At each step, I noticed that people were whispering as they looked at me. In front of the bus station, between Drouot Street and LePelletier Avenue, emotion overcame me, and I decided to climb into the first vehicle that came along. I went into the office to ask for a number, and a gentleman stopped me as I was going in. Raising my head, I recognized my gentleman of the tramway you remember, the adventure of the hand. All my boldness flew away, and he said to me: "I find you at last, and you don't know how I've looked!"
"Monsier -" I faltered.
"Take my arm and let's chat," he said. There wasn't any use in struggling, so he led me towards the Opera House. "We shall be good friends, my dear child," he said to me. "It is true that our acquaintance began in a rather singular way. But you'll excuse me in favor of the ardent attachment to you that I have already conceived. I have the greatest confidence in you, and I'm going to prove it by giving you my name. My name is General Ribier."
"You, a general?" I gasped.
"Yes, I see your thought. You don't understand passion, the ferocious passion of a woman. Ah, when it stabs the heart and the senses, one doesn't reason any more, one takes risks without reflection or without concern for honor and life. Who are you, my little friend?"
I was about to give him my name, when I changed my mind and replied: "Mademoiselle X for you."
"Then you're angry with me?"
"Perhaps a little."
"I had hoped that you would love me passionately."
"Oh, oh!"
"My age frightens you."
"Quite another thing, Monsieur the General."
"I'm very rich, my fortune belongs to you. It will help you in forgetting the wrong that I have done you."
"What do you mean, Monsieur?"
"Nothing, nothing. We must talk, and so with this in mind I take you to a certain safe place."
"What but -" I stammered.
"Would you prefer that I abandon you to this crowd of grasshoppers springing about everywhere?" he cynically chuckled. "You're not expert enough to discourage adventurers on your trail. Believe in me. I'm going to do better than all this."
What shall I tell you, darling? Fear of all these whispers, and then curiosity, and possibly a littje bit of vanity, finding myself on the arm of a general, all this decided me, so I followed my curious cavalier, asking him: "Where are you taking me?"
"To my place."
"To your place?" I echoed, aghast
"A sweet little house where I shall offer you the tastiest of pleasures."
"But that's not my place, Monsieur."
"A queen is always at home when she visits one of her subjects."
I had to smile at this. He resumed: "You will end by loving me, you know. How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"You are a beautiful, lovely girl."
"Monsieur -" I again stammered.
"Good, good, you're not yet accustomed to flattery, but it will come."
He lived on the second floor of a house on the Boulevard Haussmann.
"Jean," he said to an orderly who was in the vestibule, "serve us cakes in the little salon. Come, my child, let me show you my modest lodging. Jean, rid Mademoiselle of her hat and her cape."
After this was done, he said to me, "Come, my charming little friend, be at your ease, take off your gloves, we shall be very good friends."
He lived very well, this general! The salon in which we were to have our cakes was a veritable boudoir for a mistress: thick rugs, heavy draperies which softened the bright light of day, luxurious furniture, thick sofas, low armchairs and cushions, and a thousand little things which spoke of the character of its owner, at once seduced one's view. The room was square and rather vast and one could see at the far end through an open door a second salon, much darker, but in which I made out the statue of a naked woman in marble. As I was about to point out to the general that other room, he drew a drape over the door and said to me: "There is the mystery. When we are better acquainted, I shall reveal it to you. Sit down, and treat me like your submissive slave."
Installed upon the narrowest armchair, I accepted his cakes and a glass of Frontignan. He watched me keenly, and he ate very little. There was perhaps a fingerful of wine at the bottom of my glass; he took the glass from me, drank it, and said: "Your thoughts are less severe towards me now."
"You're wrong," I exclaimed.
However, there took place in me the phenomenon I had wished; my senses grew more languid, my heart pounded and I felt that I was going to become his willing plaything.
"Look at me," he said. I did so, and I saw that on his knees before me, he was sliding his hands under my skirt. But my panties exasperated him: "Why do you wear those?" he snapped.
"Why should I take them off?" I countered.
He rose and seated himself on one of the arms of the chair. "When one is as lovely and nice as you, one becomes all naked and replaces the statue in that salon."
"I hope you won't ask that of me," I said to him.
"Beware. I love a woman with fury in her soul and you above all others. Your skirts have the privilege of rendering me wild with desire, so you can judge the state of the poor devil between my legs."
I put my hands over my eyes so that I couldn't see. Because he had taken out what, on the tramway, he had yielded to my touch. He leaned towards me, seized my hand to draw my fingers towards his cock; I resisted and then he became suddenly calm. "It's true that I'm not very reasonable," he said. "Let's eat and drink."
With the greatest delicacy, he offered me another glass of Frontignan, but in a clean glass. I drank half the glass, rose as if to look for a cake, and I let my skirts ride up about my thighs so that he could draw down my panties, which soon rolled around my heels. "At last, at last," he cried. He devoured my bottom with burning caresses, unbuttoned my dress, my skirts, and undressed me.
"I must be a fool," I murmured.
"No, no, you are worthy to reign here as the sovereign." He didn't stop till I was all naked. On his knees, he took off my boots and my stockings and then kissed me all over my body, exclaiming: "What a divine beauty!"
I laughed and took pleasure in his kisses, his gestures, his movements. Profiting from the ecstasy with which he admired my beauty, I pointed towards that famous sealed door. He saw my gesture, chuckled: "Daughter of Eve!"
He drew away the drape and gave me his hand to lead me in. The room was lighted up by two fixtures, each of which had eight lights, and presented a most bizarre aspect. In oval form, the walls of the room were completely garnished with some kind of substance I could not be sure whether it was metallic or not which made the light from those fixtures sparkle in a thousand little facets. The statue, erect upon a black velvet base, seemed to contemplate itself all over that room. Only the door through which we had come contrasted with the polish of the walls; the ceiling rounded itself into a dome and the rug was so thick that your foot sank into it. Here and there, I could see little cushions, a divan, and a superb tiger rug, with its tail lifted, its jaws opened and its enormous teeth bared. A terrifying and spectacular sight, this!
The general drew the drape back over the door, lifted the statue and took it down from its pedestal. "That place belongs to you, my little queen. Occupy it!" he said to me.
Without hesitating, I obeyed.
"Let me carry away this unworthy rival and I'll be back," he said to me. Now I could see that the room was covered with glass and that all the darkness and the luxury of the furnishings had made it seem metallic; the indirect light, too, had given me this illusion. For he put his hand to one of the panels in the wall, and a door opened and he disappeared. I found myself alone in this fairyland salon, entirely naked, standing upon the pedestal of a statue. From every side, lights projected my nakedness, and nothing of my own body escaped my look, wherever it was. I confess to you, that as I considered myself in every detail, I was happy to see that I was worth the attention he was paying me. But he didn't come back. I got down from the pedestal to examine the room in detail. The tiger fascinated me with his eyes. I approached it and caressed it with my hand. I shivered from head to foot it seemed to me that the head had moved. Then I saw under the tiger's legs, on the rug, a kind of electric button. I bent over to look at it closer, and then I stretched out on it luxuriously. Hardly had I done this when the lights paled, and then almost went out; I could now see only the eyes of the tiger, shining in the mirrors like two red coals.
Surprised, but not uneasy, I sought to penetrate this half-obscurity, when I felt next to me another naked body which came towards me on all fours. Soon this body was beside me, and its hands began to palpate me. My hands of their own accord sought their neighbor's thighs, and a kiss burned the corner of my cheek yes, it was the general. His arms locked round me, and he began to lick me here and there with tiny flicks of his tongue, while I imitated him.
Our sighs became profane, and I became intoxicated with voluptuousness; he turned me this way and that, and I lent myself to everything. Then he constrained convulsively while he found himself behind me. With one of his hands, he shook his cock, seeking to stiffen it still more and then to direct its pink tip between my buttocks which he separated with his other hand. And suddenly I felt myself stickled with his man's spunk springing out in thick drops.
That was all. I took a linen handkerchief he gave me, I stuffed it into my mouth and bit it I don't know why. I was waiting for something else, but he didn't move. Did he guess my thought? He took the handkerchief away from me and wiped my bottom.
"Child," he murmured, "in this way you won't have any danger of becoming pregnant."
I couldn't speak, I was already half dying from emotion.
He finished wiping himself and me, then, taking me by the waist, said, "Come this way, there's all you need."
Without a word I followed him; he led me to a lovely little bathroom in which I found a thousand and one things a woman needs after love.
He served me as my maid, just as he had done before, and when we had dressed: "Would you like, my dear child, to tell me who you are? I shall accompany you wherever you wish, unless you prefer to give me the rest of your day."
"I am Mademoiselle Danielle Hollaz, General. Take me a little way, for I should never dare to leave here. Then you can leave me, my-parents will not know my weakness of just now."
"When shall we see each other again?"
"I don't go out as I wish, and the occasions are rare."
"This is the second time I've met you. Tell me the day when you're free."
"I don't know."
"Come now, you naughty little one, you haven't been satisfied. There's a question that I hardly dare venture."
"What is it?"
"What is your material position."
"I am rich."
"Truly. Then you have no need for anyone to help you."
"I don't need anyone."
"Tell me the day when I shall see you again."
"It's impossible for me to say in advance."
"Let's agree on a way of finding out."
"What do you want me to do?"
"You know my name and my address, write me the day before, and set some rendezvous at the bus station where I met you."
"I'll think about it."
"Promise me."
"No."
"In that case, I'll keep you here as a prisoner."
"General!'
"Would you give me your address so that I may find you again?"
"What good would that do you?"
"So as not to grow desperate from the love that you inspire in me."
"Are you mocking me? I'm not naive enough to believe in love from your viewpoint."
"Why not, my child?"
"Because you love women, and not a girl of my age."
"I'll prove to you quite the contrary on your next visit. Or must I keep you here?"
"No I'll write you. So much the worse if my letter doesn't give you any hope."
"Then you will give me a rendezvous?"
In my haughtiest tone, I said to him, "Danielle Hollaz will come to see you again. Now, take me away, General."
He was most discreet and left me at Chausse-d'Antin Street. Madame Castex, the future sister-in-law of my aunt, lived close by, and I was afraid to be seen, so I begged him to leave me there. Besides, I was eager to be alone so that I could think clearly.
It was already six o'clock, so I hurried home. Ought I to tell my adventure to Laura?
No, I should prefer to be quiet and to have only you as the confidante of this little story.
Since my aunt and my brother were developing my womanhood, it pleased me to experience something on my own and to hide something from them. Thus in secret I could have a lover! The thought amused me. A general was my lover, and no one would know or suspect. I felt a certain pride about it. What had become of my sentiment of modesty which a month before had made me blush at the simple idea of showing a man my stockinged leg! It no longer existed how easily I had shaken off all false shame!
I evoked all my adventures and I concluded that, so well had I started in this gentle life of love, that I must profit from every occasion which would present itself.
My aunt received me kindly. "Well, Danielle," she said to me, "have you had enough on your first day of liberty? What did you do, where did you go? How many hearts did you break?"
"Oh, my dear aunt, I went to the Botanical Gardens."
"To see the bears?"
"Yes, my dear aunt, and the tigers too."
"What a delicious child you are! And how did the bears find you."
"They didn't tell me."
"How annoying, darling."
Thus, as she had announced to me, she disposed of my night. A few of her phrases wakened my attention and let me suspect that she had guessed something of my escapade, though nothing really as yet has confirmed this supposition.
The next day they gave me the following letter from Pierre:
"Dear Sister, I'm well and happy. Palmyra has come back to me more loving than ever, and I owe it all to you. I told her everything, and she flung her arms around my neck. What a strange woman she is! You have been my good angel, and I love you ten times more for it. I shan't come to see you for a few days, but if you have an hour of freedom, hurry to me, and we shall chat. Your aunt will allow it. I am alone every day from three to five in the afternoon Your loving brother, Pierre."
I read and reread this letter. Pierre hadn't forgotten me, so I was more than satisfied. At least he wouldn't be like the general! At three o'clock I rang his doorbell and he himself opened it, saying, "I was waiting for you, little sister. Come in." He took me to his work room, which was very elegant. I saw a sheet of letter on which the ink was still fresh. "May I read it, Pierre?"
"Here, I have no secrets for you."
I read it and turned crimson. It said: "Let Danielle come, we shall explore together the gamut of voluptuous pleasure."
"Wicked Pierre," I said to him.
He didn't reply, but took hold of my hands and stared fixedly at me. "What do you want?" I murmured.
"First take off your hat."
"Take it off for me."
"Then you consent to everything?"
"What does everything mean?"
"You, to learn everything about me, what I know, what I desire; for me, to learn everything of you, what you know, and what you desire. The two of us, we shall permit ourselves everything, for we are of the same blood."
"So be it, Pierre, begin; ask, and I shall obey."
"Take off your bodice, let your titties out, take them in your hands, kneel down and kiss that which makes me a man."
As he spoke, my beloved Marguerite, I did what he indicated. Kneeling between his thighs, I took out that so tender and terrible object from his open undergarments, brought it closer to my face, and my lips kissed it. I grew bolder, I held it in my fingers, regarded it with love. I kissed it again, touched it with my teeth, let it advance into my very mouth. It came and went, I felt and saw it swell and grow harder. He said to me: "Enough, Danielle. Now you, what do you desire?"
My fingers couldn't leave it, I leaned against one of his legs and asked him: "What do you call it?"
"It has many names, but the most suitable of all is that of prick."
"Ah, and the others?"
"We needn't mention them, because they are very vulgar, darling."
"And what I am doing now, is there a name for that?" I pursued.
"Yes," he murmured in a very low voice, "you're Frenching me."
"Ah, it's so nice, there, and there."
"Ask something else of me, Danielle."
I sat down on the rug, and, amusing myself by fondling my titties, I said, "I want you to be naked."
"Truly?"
"Yes."
"In my turn, I shall obey." He didn't take long to undress. I made him turn this way and that, studying his structure and his form. I must tell you, my Marguerite, that in all justice to the other sex, man isn't too ugly, really.
"Have you contemplated me enough?" he asked.
"Yes, now what do you want of me?"
"It's my turn to admire you. Undress."
Decidedly I was getting used to this. I hastened to be naked like Pierre. The two of us, standing facing each other, our hands clasped, we regarded ourselves all over, amusing ourselves by coming closer, then moving away, brushing our bellies and bottoms together.
I asked him about the various names he had for the parts of the body. He replied to me complacently. I knew that to kiss or to lick the thighs of a woman was called "to do a minette" or to gamahuch. To kiss or lick the bottom-cheeks was to do a "feuil de rose." To shake the cock of a man was to masturbate. To receive him in his arms in front of you was to be fucked. To receive him in your bottom was to be sodomized, or, a naughtier word, to be buggered. To be taken from behind, but his prick going into your pussy, was to make love dog style, and so on. I shan't bore you with my science, poor Marguerite.
Naked, I was smaller than Pierre, and yet when his belly touched mine, his cock came up to my thighs. What foolish things we did! They are usually repetitions, but in these very repetitions there appear novelties, so they excited us more and more. Stretched out side by side on the rug, while we rested and chatted, Pierre said to me, "Do you know, little sister, that our intimacy, since it is forbidden, is only the more charming, and it will force us to love each other even more."
"Yes, Pierre, for we shall have no secrets and we shall cling together no matter where we are. Tell me, did you amuse yourself as much with Madame Rastegue?"
"That's not the same thing. With her, I'm carried away, I'm not master of myself, I'm killed, I know I'm a plaything, and I don't dare things. With you, it seems to me that I'm navigating on an enchanting sea, with the calmness of the waves and the blue sky. It seems to me that your desires are mine, that your body completes me, that our caresses are the essence of voluptuousness. It seems that in you I caress myself as in me you caress yourself, so I fear nothing, and nothing shames me."
"Will you see her again tonight?"
"No, but tomorrow, and under certain circumstances, which you must judge. When I tell you about this visit, I shall prove to you that I have nothing to hide from you."
"Is it something novel?"
"Listen closely. You remember my sadness, my torments when she wanted me to take as a mistress her sister or her sister-in-law. Well yesterday, she came, and I wasn't waiting for her. I had hardly come back, and she sat down on my knees and said to me: 'Monsieur Pierre, do you love me less?'
" 'Yes,' I told her. I was thinking of our lovemaking the night before. She grew sly and replied, 'Tell me, with whom did you replace me?'
" 'With no one,' I told her, Danielle. She said to me: 'You lie, Pierre. I know you too well not to guess that you didn't take my advice. Besides, I know you went to bed that night.' " T slept at my aunt's.'. "
" 'Ah. Then it was with your aunt?'. "
"'Palmyra, do you think that of her?'" '"She's very lovely, and you wouldn't show bad taste if you went to bed with her at all. Then it wasn't with her? You're blushing, Pierre could it be -'"
" 'Palmyra, be silent, I conjure you.'"
" 'With -' Then, Danielle, leaning towards my ear, she whispered your name. I assure you that I thought myself possessed by one of those charming demons of the Middle Ages that they used to call succubi. Pushing her harshly away, I said to her: 'You're mad. Leave me.'
" 'Ah,' she resumed without the least annoyance. 'Now you're a man, my Pierre, and I adore you. Now, I'm your slave, beat me, spurn me.'
"She flung herself at my feet, begging me to whip her. She appeared so beautiful thus that all my love surged to my heart; I fell upon her, devoured her with caresses, saying, 'Yes, yes, you've guessed, it was with Danielle that I deceived you. I'm a criminal.'
" 'You're an intelligent man, Pierre.'
"So, little sister, after an exquisite scene of love, she communicated to me her projects and how she wished to make my happiness her happiness. And she said: "Pierre, we are a number of remarkable women, who, having shaken away all prejudice, have taught our husbands and our brothers to act the same way. What you've done with Danielle, I've done with my own brother Charles. We were worthy of meeting together, of appreciating one another, and that is what forced me to decry your too intensive love for me. Not only do we love to make love with a man, but we love it just as much with a woman. My sister Leonie was my first lover, and right now she is the mistress of your aunt Laura.'"
"Of our aunt," I cried, interrupting Pierre.
Pierre said to me: "Wait, darling, there's more to tell. Palmyra went on to say that Laura isn't happy with her relationship with Leonie and she wants to have an affair with your sister Danielle."
"What, she told you that?" I interrupted my brother for the second time.
"It's the truth," he observed, as he kissed my eyes. "Let me finish, you can talk then. Well, of course I didn't believe it. But Palmyra went into details. She told me that you had slept with Laura the very night when I had taken her back home. Moreover, she told me, that my aunt has a tremendous passion for women." Also, Pierre told me, Laura secretly hoped that I would become my own brother's mistress so that I might become one of their intimate little group.
Well, Marguerite, you can imagine what this news made me feel! Pierre went on: "When Palmyra told me all this, I stared at her with such an air of stupefaction that she burst out laughing and went on: "You're a man, so you don't grasp it. You shall ask details from Danielle. A woman can procure amorous pleasure from another woman just as much as a man can. Do you wish me to taste this pleasure with Laura and then later make her taste it?"
" 'You won't love me anymore.'
Pierre looked at me, sighed, then said, "Then Palmyra said to me, 'Would you love me any less after you've possessed Danielle?' I hold her: 'You have the proof to the contrary.'
" 'You can't say yes frankly, can you, Pierre?' was her reply. Well, Danielle, when I agreed to hear her out, she asked me if I would consent to her love affair with Laura. I asked what was the point of such a question, to which she said that if I agreed, I should sleep with Laura whenever I wished, as well as with Adrienne, with Leonie, with Lina Castor and Natalie who was with us in Le Harve. And when I gasped at this, Palmyra bit me on the ear and said to me 'A seraglio of charming women to whom you can add Danielle and perhaps others will you say yes?'
" 'But the husbands?' I asked her, Danielle, after hearing such an offer. And she said to me: 'They will be your friends.'
"'And the fianc� of my aunt, Monsieur Derlon?'
" 'He's the lover of everybody and knows all our stories.'
" 'So it's a community of love, is it?'
"'You have said the exact word: a community at your disposal the day when you accept the clauses and conditions.'
" 'So be it, I say yes. But what about Danielle?'
"'Danielle, your mistress; that tempting niece and mistress of your aunt has her place marked among us. We shall give her a rich husband belonging to our own little society and her future will be all the more delightful.'
" 'Is this a dream or a reality?' " 'You have said yes. Tomorrow evening you shall know the reality. Laura and I will come to you.' " 'Both of you?'
" 'We shall teach you all the more.'. "
"Two women with me?'
" 'Does that frighten you? Do you wish a man to assist you?' " 'Oh!'
"' Let us burn our ships behind us. Order dinner for four, and we shall make a party of it. Laura wil bring her fianc� and under his eyes will give herseli to you if you so desire.'
" 'And you?'
" 'Well, of course, you must expect a reprisal.'
My brother said to me, Marguerite, that when Palmyra told him that, he said: "In front of me, never!" But she as usual had the last word by answering: "Reflect, Pierre. The evil is in deception. That which is done without mystery is not painful for self-esteem and when it is a question of sharing a woman's affections, self-esteem suffers more than love itself."
" 'But to see you in another man's arms,' my brother exclaimed to her.
" 'Shouldn't I see you in the arms of another woman?'
" 'It isn't the same thing.'
" 'Foolish one, how can you say that when my heart turns more to you than to any other? Besides, all this is pure supposition. You've only to be faithful to me during this evening, and they'll imitate you."
'"In that case, I consent.'
" 'If you happen to want to make love to your aunt, retire with her discreetly, then you won't be shocked by what you see me do."
" 'Oh, I'm sure of myself.'
" 'Apart from this matter of witnessing lovemaking that might spiritually offend you, do you agree to our freedom of action?'
'"I shall get used to it.'"
"It's thinking of you, little Danielle", my brother then told me, "that led me to accept in principle this type of communal behavior. You will get married, and I shall share you with your husband, if you still consent to our intimacy, whether he likes it or not. When I am shared between you, Palmyra and who knows how many others, I must in turn accept Palmyra's being shared with another woman, my aunt; and with another man, her husband, as well as with other men and women. So, tomorrow evening, Palmyra, Laura, and Monsieur Delron will dine here and spend the evening. You shall tell me your little adventures."
So, Marguerite, I told him what had happened between Laura and myself. For a moment, I almost thought of telling him about the general, but I didn't because this was the beginning of our liaison and I doubtless had the fear my brother might be offended by my licentiousness. When I'd finished, he said, "It's certain, Danielle, that those around us may seek to find something scabrous concerning our behavior, so we must always be careful, despite our freedom. What's your decision?"
"To lend myself to everything. What I can guess from what you've told me encourages me to go forward, and to become, from tomorrow evening on, the lover of Laura, and to permit Monsieur Delron to be Palmyra's."
"But what about love, little sister?"
"We'll think about it while amusing ourselves."
Pierre than told me of a few of his amorous exploits, which had the effect of stiffening his cock again. How shall I now tell you, Marguerite, what took place? Well, to put it crudely, as I crouched on all fours on the rug, he moved behind me, rubbed his big stiff prick against my bare bottom-cheeks a few times, then dug his weapon into my cunt and took me from behind as a dog takes his bitch. What new delights I enjoyed! One of his arms clutched me tight around the waist, while his other hand caressed my titties; his belly rubbed my bare bottom, and his prick dug deeper than it had the first time he'd fucked me.
We left together, and I urged him not to tire himself and not to get sick from all the amorous exercise in prospect.
"You see, dear little Pierre," I told him, "in these matters a woman's stronger than a man, since her emotions are less profoundly stirred in the acts of fucking. Spare yourself."
"Yes, my little minx," he said tenderly.
Well, I think you'll agree that this has been a most informative letter. My dear Marguerite, don't let me wait to hear how you've been doing, but write me at once, and be sure of the tenderest love from
Your Danielle.
CHAPTER SIX Marguerite de Marvejane to Danielle Hollaz:
MY DEARLY BELOVED DAINELLE, A FEW DAYS MORE AND we'll be together again. What a change has taken place in both of us since we last parted! How did we really live before that famous letter which began the tale of your remarkable adventures?
What, my angel, you need two lovers and a mistress, without counting what I reserve for you myself between my squirmy thighs, and you don't succumb to fever and exhaustion? I think I'd lose all my strength if -
But you didn't tell me about the party for the young girls which surely must have taken place. Didn't something extraordinary happen? Are you hiding something from me by not telling me about it? I've had an echo of it, which is why I refer to it.
A fifth love-thief joined himself to you, and you diverted yourself so much with him that you took him into this "community" of yours. His name is Jacques, and rumor tells me that a certain Danielle whom I know had absolutely refused him nothing. Three graces watching the amorous struggle of the performing couple, all three as naked as goddesses of antiquity, and executing a thousand and one sensual pantomimes to inflame the lovers! Why, cruel Danielle, did you not even hint of this? How did I learn of this? Through my own adventures. Can you believe that I didn't repent and that the following night, not being able to sleep, I pleased myself in the darkness of my room, to relieve the scene of violence committed on my body, to desire it to be repeated with all the fury of my hot little pussy, to summon up frantically an encore of my sufferings. Danielle, forgive this avowal; my hand, in spite of all my good will, slid between my thighs, frigged my pussy, and tried to procure for my mind and hot naked flesh the images of being fucked again. I was mad with lust, and even my fatigue from the day before could not quiet me. So, after I finally had a good night's sleep, I went back to my friends. They were impatiently waiting to hear from me.
"Did your parents suspect anything?" they asked. I said no, and blushed.
"You've returned," Henry remarked. "Therefore you've pardoned me."
I didn't answer. Natalie smiled and said, "Once the wolf has visited, he will again."
"Madame!" I exclaimed, blushing again.
"This time, both of you will be wiser."
"But -"
"I'm not jealous, and I know what you're going through now. I wish your happiness, my child, so consider me today a kind of chambermaid, at your disposal entirely, and I shall take charge of serving you," she said, Danielle!
She went out and Henry knelt before me: "Shall I be happy enough not to frighten you this time?" he asked.
"I don't know."
He kissed me so tenderly that I found myself putting my arms round his neck. "We shall be wiser this time indeed," he murmured." Without my opposing him, he undressed me down to my chemise till I stopped him, not wishing to be all naked. He lifted me up gently, and carried me into the room, placed me on the bed. Then he stripped naked and lay down beside me. Happily, it was very dark, so he couldn't see my emotional confusion. For the first time, Danielle, in my turn, I had my hand taken and directed to the object that had caused me such suffering that first memorable time, and once again I nearly died of fright when I felt his stiff prick. Could such a huge instrument penetrate into my girlish little pussy?
Did he guess my fear? He gently caressed my loins and bottom, burning my lips with little kisses which lowered to my titties, and little by little he dwindled my terror. Less rebellious now, I amused myself by touching him here and there. At that moment, a gentle sensation called my attention to the direction of the space between the bed and the wall, near where I was. A long kiss, an ardent caress, had just been applied to my bare bottom ah, Danielle, what a scene followed!
Standing, naked and smiling, there was Natalie, showing me her delicious bubbies; she then leaned over me and I felt her nipple prod against the crease separating my bottom-cheeks, as if trying to penetrate my little rosette! Then her lips took over, and her tongue ran over my bung slit; I was maddened, and I didn't even notice Henri had removed my chemise.
Naked, my Danielle, I rolled into Natalie's arms, she having mounted to the bed. What kisses we exchanged! I didn't concern myself with what happened to Henri, for she dominated me, her caresses summoned mine, and I obeyed her like a craving bitch in heat. Our mouths ran over each other's bodies, we licked and sucked like souls possessed. Never had I dreamed such delicious bliss could come from the flesh of another woman. She led me towards a mirror and made me look at myself. Maliciously, she pointed out the qualities of my thighs, my pussy fur, my titties and calves, then hers, and invited me to take all sorts of lubricious poses which the mirror faithfully imitated. Thus she accustomed me to our nudity. Suddenly Henri appeared, naked, his prick stiff and held in one hand. He took both of us by the waist, and we continued our games before the mirror. I hadn't time to think; had all modesty fled? My hand squeezed Henri's prick each time he wished; I let him finger my bum hole and pussy as he liked, took the poses he suggested, offered him my bottom-cheeks so he could measure the thickness of his cock against my bum hole; wound myself against naked Natalie to whet his visual pleasures, and gave them both every possible joy in touch and sight and posing. How we clambered back onto the bed, I shall never know. There, Henri fell upon me, and for the second time I abandoned myself, with hardly any suffering this time. In my ecstasy, I saw Natalie stretched out at my side adoring me with her eyes, and while Henri fucked me, Natalie often pulled one of my hands to her lips and kissed it, then rubbed it against her titties or her own burning soft cunthole.
No pleasure, save that which I anticipate with you, my beloved Danielle, could equal the sensations I was experiencing, and it dissipated the final twinges of conscience in my soul. Once dressed, we shall be quite normal to all others; Madame Nassau, a goddess of passion, will become again the chic woman of the world; Henri, a courteous cavalier, and I shall be the young girl whose manner draws respect. No false shame or unfortunate memories, only a frank outlook with old friends. Modesty is an hypocrisy of the body which thinks itself ugly, while it really is handsome, since we are made after God's image. To walk naked and see people the same way wouldn't make me blush now. Now let's speak of this "echo of a rumor" which came to me of your own escapade!
Three days ago, Henri was called to Paris. Natalie would have gone with him if it hadn't been agreed that since I was to be a witness to the marriage of your aunt, we should leave together. With Henri gone, Natalie got my parents to permit me to keep her company.
There's no need to tell you that we didn't separate at all at night or what our life was. In a few hours I learned more than all the rest of my existence love and voluptuousness awakened new ideas for me. In those interludes which followed our amorous byplay, we spoke of you and I told her of our projects. Natalie listened to me and excited me to further confidences. I told her all about our life in the convent, our friendship, our letters, and then I spoke about your brother and your aunt. She must have guessed that I knew a great many things, yesterday morning, for she said to me: "Doesn't your friend keep secrets from you?"
"I don't think so."
"But I'm almost certain of the contrary, dear."
"That would astonish me, because we always confide in each other."
"Even what's happened to you with the two of us?"
"She knows the beginning and she'll soon know the end of it."
"That's all very fine, my little Marguerite, but perhaps it would be prudent to be a little more reserved."
"Danielle loves me, and she loves whom I love."
"Will you love, then, also those whom she loves, both male and female?"
"I belong to her. At her desire, I should belong to whomever she wishes."
"Marvelous, Marguerite. She really is your friend."
"Of course she is. She's so nice, so lovely, so good," I said of you, my dear Danielle!
"How many lovers do you think she has?"
"Lovers?"
"Of course."
"But " I faltered.
"I see. You're afraid of being indiscreet, so I can tell you. First of all there's a young man by the name of Pierre."
"You know that?"
"I know everything that interests me, and your friend interests me in a double sense: first, because she's your friend, and I love you; then, because some of my friends in Paris are thinking a good deal of her."
"Then they told you about her and Pierre."
"As well as her and Laura, another little affair with a certain General Ribier, and the last which you don't know, I sure, with my husband Jacques."
"Your husband!" I gasped, as you can well imagine, Danielle.
"Your friend, going out with three other young ladies, met my husband who was watching for them. Since two of those girls had already had, shall we say, a certain sexual flirtation with my husband, he accompanied them everywhere whenever the chance arose. So that evening, he took them to dine in a private house where everything had been taken care of for the circumstances to follow. Danielle, who was in a very gay humor, did like the others. When dessert rolled around, the five guests were naked. Then while her friends gave themselves up to a thousand naughty little pantomimes under their eyes, Danielle gave herself to Jacques. You see how well I am informed, my dear."
"Better than I am," I said. Now, Danielle, your last letter didn't hint a single word of this famous little party for five. More than that, my adored one, you assured me that we are the only ones to know your adventure with the general, yet Natalie knew it before I did. Are you getting mixed up in your stories, or does love trouble you to such an extent that you forget what has happened?
Oh, you wicked one, won't you give me more than a distracted love and consider me more than a worn-out plaything? Even to think this, leaves me desolate, makes me weep and turns my face ugly. Since I returned to my parents, I am beginning to close my heart to every sentiment. I swear to renounce all voluptuousness, I'm going to be gloomy and silent, have neither friend of either sex, and I wish I wish to kiss you from head to foot and to die with a sight with my lips fused to yours. I'm yours, all of me even when you are wicked like this -
Your Marguerite
CHAPTER SEVEN
Danielle Hollaz to Marguerite de Marvejane:
YOU, only a worn out plaything, would you believe such a thing? You're not going to slander me by accusing my heart of deception? Of all the men and the women that I see, in all the science I acquire, I have only one aim: to prepare a joyous ending for the intoxicating pleasure of my beloved Marguerite. The girl that I was two months ago is today a woman, and what a woman!
Hearing the murmurs of it rise in my presence, judging by the thousand flattering words which salute me everywhere, I have succeeded in my desire of becoming a marvel of whom my Marguerite shall be truly proud. I want my friend to say of me, there goes she who captivates thus all the world, and it is for me that she has transformed herself from a little ninny into a superb butterfly; for my sake this seductive beauty, for my sake this body that everyone admires, and which burns with its caresses, for my sake this soul which seduces every other.
If you don't know everything yet, it's that time has been lacking to tell you all my adventures, which would take volumes. Let us therefore make a resume of what I have to tell you, and later I shall take it up detail for detail.
Yes, I became the mistress of Jacques Nassau and later on you shall have the full story. Charles Vautrin, Ludovic Rastegue, the husband of Palmyra, have also possessed me. Among women, Georgette Caprina and
Lina Castex have procured the same joys that Laura and Palmyra brought me.
I get along famously with the general and I am still amazed by what you just told me, for you are still the only one to whom I confided about that matter yet it seems that my adventures are known by others. I wonder how this happened.
Let us come to this Sunday which has so moved you. There was a joyous reunion at the Beausires. Women and young girls thought themselves in full paradise, cavaliers were there of perfect courtesy and irreproachable distinction and exquisite gallantry. Young men and husbands did not hesitate to proffer to most flowery compliments and the most delicate attentions. Charles Vautrin, who is so well-known to Lucie and to Palmyra and to Leonie, began his wooing. We were getting ready to leave with his sister Lucie, Marie Rastegue, and Georgette, and were looking for our hats. He brought me mine.
"You'll at least give me a little kiss for this service," he hinted.
"You're ambitious."
"So be it. I shall also demand something else."
"You certainly are more than ambitious."
"Oh, don't be a goose! Promise me that I shall be the first to tell you when we are alone together, or, if you like, before everyone but in a very hushed voice then the most extraordinary adventure that you will have had all day."
"I promise with all my heart."
"I shall remind you of it and I have these ladies as my witness," he chuckled.
The girls called out, "We guarantee that Danielle will not trick you." Then to my great surprise, Charles knelt, extended a hand, and said to me, "Put your right foot upon it."
"You're mad!" I exclaimed.
"No, put it there."
"But " I hesitated.
"Put it there, Danielle," my friends called. "You've nothing to fear because we're here." I consented, and while he lifted up my foot, he continued with the most serious attitude which almost made me die of laughter: "By this boot which I kiss with the most respect, do not forget, Mademoiselle Danielle, that you are to be at my discretion to hear a story."
"I shan't forget it, Monsieur Charles."
He put my foot back on the ground, and then, pretending a false movement, let himself slip against my skirt. His hand clutched my ankle for the space of a moment, then I felt it ascending my legs and arriving at my upper thighs which I safeguarded only with the thinnest of panties. He had stood up before I could find a word to say, and said to me: "Forgive that awkwardness, Mademoiselle Danielle, but here is the hand that will not complain and that will remain gloved until your tale."
So we left very joyously on the railway and we got along so nicely in our first-class coach that nobody came in to bother us. We were on a long journey, St.-Cloud being the final goal.
"Ladies," Georgette said, as soon as the train pulled out, "do you want to divide ourselves into husbands and wives and form two couples? What do you think of it?"
"That your idea is charming," Lucie replied. "Name the husbands."
"Who puts herself in that category."
"I" Lucie announced. "And you, Danielle?"
"I shall remain a woman, if it's all the same to you.
"And you, Marie?"
"I shall do as Danielle does."
"So be it. Lucie and I shall become your husbands, and I ask for the hand of Mademoiselle Danielle."
"She grants it to you," Lucie intervened, interposing before I could speak. "So now I am your husband, my dear Marie."
"The mayor has not consecrated our union, Lucie, but this does not prevent me from promising you all my passion."
"Which I accept with this sweet kiss." And Lucie's lips clung to Marie's. To tell you the truth, my darling, I suspected that this little game with the girls hid a handsome little ambush of mad amorous pranks which would be commited among the four of us. So I wasn't surprised when Georgette installed herself beside me, put her arm around my waist, pulled me to her, kissed my ears and neck, and whispered, "Danielle, my gentle little dove, do you want me to lick your little bottomhole?"
I kissed her mouth and whispered back, "Not here, Georgette, they could see us."
"Just look," was her laughing reply as she pointed to Marie and Lucie. The two of them were entwined, their lips crushed together, their hands gliding over one another's calves, pulling up their skirts, so that they could touch pussy.
"All the more reason to be discreet," I said. "You won't lose anything by waiting, Georgette. I want to watch to see that no one is coming by this door, and you look by the other." She complied, but she gave me a look of spite just the same. I leaned outside to look to see if the coast was clear, when a burst of laughter drew my attention back to our compartment. My three friends, seated, were looking at squares of paper which lay on the knees of Marie.
"A fine thing," I cried, "these selfish little minxes amuse themselves and leave me all alone."
"But this concerns you," Lucie said to me.
"Me?" I asked.
"Our three names are here and you shall draw one. And --. "
"And --. "
"Approach."
"Here I am."
"You will kiss the bottom of the girl which you pick by chance."
"A fine thing."
"You refuse?"
"I almost feel like doing that, yes."
"Why?"
"Because you haven't consulted me, my husband, Monsieur Georgette should have at least asked for my acquiescence he thus renounces his rights."
"Not at all," Georgette cried. "This lovely exercise will serve to cement the accord between all of us."
"It seems to me it exists very well without this little nonsense:"
"Yes or no, will you or won't you, Danielle?"
"What would you do if I said no?" I asked.
"All three of us, we should fall upon you, pull down your panties and whip you till the blood flows."
"All this on the railway train?"
"It would be your fault if we were all sent to prison for it."
So, with a shrug, I chose one of the papers, and it had the name of Marie.
"I'm ready to obey," I said, "Let Marie help me."
"In what way?"
"I don't know anything about this, but I can hardly crawl under the seat "
"She's right. You stay at the door, it will be better. You'll look as if you're just being casual and watching the scenery and Lucie will put herself at the other door and guard. All right, Danielle, kneel down here. Exhibit the object, Marie".
Georgette thus took charge of this burlesque as a captain commands his soldiers and we all followed her orders. At the door, Marie turned her back to me, trussed up her skirts and I kissed her as best I could.
"She adores getting a feuille de rose," Georgette insisted, "so dig your tongue as deeply as you can. She'll adore you."
These little rascals possessed no more modesty than I did. Marie lifted her skirts higher and higher, rounding out her bottom-cheeks, sometimes putting a hand back onto my head to force me to prolong my caresses with my tongue. Her flesh was very beautiful and satiny and I began to take pleasure in this caress which lasted at least four or five minutes. "Marie is abusing things," Lucie intervened.
"I understand," said Georgette, stopping me. "Go to the other door, Danielle."
Lucie was awaiting me in the desired position.
"When will it be my husband's turn?" I asked as I crossed the apartment
"Later," Georgette replied with a little grimace and repeating my own words to me, "you will lose nothing by waiting."
She thus let me know that she was the one who had inspired this little prank to which I was being subjected. Lucie declared herself satisfied of my talent when she had experienced it, and predicted for me a brilliant future in the art of ass-hole caressing. Having finished, I was getting ready to get up, when the implacable Georgette put a hand on my shoulder and said, "A moment, a moment, let's not leave our places, ladies. Danielle knows our bottoms, now we must know hers. You will show yours to us?"
What could I do? I showed what they wanted. Well, dear one, I drew compliments which I modestly say were deserved, and I accepted them without false modesty. The ice was broken.
So at St. Cloud, two by two, "man and wife," we walked through the park, winking and ogling in the most indecent way the young men who came by us.
Some of these young men were, shall we say, delighted with our little mannerisms, so we received many invitations to stop for refreshment, even for dinner. However, we didn't reply to these honest proposals, and our discouraged pursuers soon abandoned us.
One, however, was steadfast, and he attached himself to Lucie, who was the maddest sprite of all of us. We met him several times, and each time Lucie not only seemed to be quite unannoyed by him but she even smiled at him. However, she was teasing him, and when all his offers had remained turned down, he finally said with a groan of exasperation: "You won't listen to me or reply to me or follow me, so I might as well attach myself to your footsteps and I shall find out who you are."
He was a very tall man with a thick black beard, not at all timid.
Lucie finally spoke: "I have said nothing to you.
I am free to walk as I please with my friends, and forbid you to follow me."
He took off his hat, bowed silently, and then began to walk behind us. We couldn't shake him, as he was always on our heels. We finally planned what we had to do. Lucie, encouraged by Georgette, decided to talk to her persecutor and try to reason with him. Slackening her step with Marie, she soon was at his side and then she said to him: "What to you expect to gain by such insistence?"
"To know you, to know where you live, what you do, and to seek some quarrel with your lover if you have one."
"Ah, sir, if by chance our regard fell upon you, you were quite mistaken as to their significance, or you are terribly stupid. You want to know who I am? It isn't necessary to wear yourself out to find this out. I will tell you. I am Mademoiselle Lucie Vautrin, sister-in-law of Monsieur Etienne Duport, whom you perhaps know by name. Here's one of my visiting cards. I am seventeen years old, I have two million francs dowry; you have to go look for my brother-in-law, with whom I live, and ask my hand in marriage. If he agrees, he will ask me to tell him what I think. I must admit to you now that my reply won't be very favorable. There are tramways and trains for Paris, so go see my brother-in-law, for that is the shorter way to follow me."
"I shall, Mademoiselle." Again he bowed, and this time he left we were delivered.
As it was getting late, we decided to go to Paris to dine in a restaurant. When we got off at the St. Lazare station, Marie and Georgette uttered a cry of joy at the sight of a man who was pacing back and forth. It was Jacques Nassau, the husband of your friend Natalie.
"What, all four of you alone thus?"
"An escapade."
"Would you accept me as a companion? I'm dying of boredom."
"That depends."
"On what?"
"You won't disturb our combinations."
"On the contrary, if you communicate them to me, I shall reinforce them," he replied.
"What is the opinion of my little wife?" Georgette asked me.
"That of my little husband."
"Then we admit him to unanimity."
"Ladies, I invite you to dinner?"
"Where?"
"In a friendly house, whose owners are absent and where I shall give the order to prepare a very special repast."
"We had thought of going to a restaurant."
"But you wouldn't be at your complete ease there."
"He's right," Marie observed. "We shall be very much at home in going where he wishes."
"Here's the address, ladies. Be there in an hour and a half, I shall wait for you and everything will be ready."
So we got in the two carriages, Marie and Lucie in one and Georgette and I in the other, in order to kill time. En route, Georgette said to me: "Since I've known you, Danielle, I have a caprice for you, and I fear this evening will not see its satisfaction as I should like. Let us therefore settle on a rendezvous, and I shall take without any sadness my part in the pleasure of this evening."
"A rendezvous, Georgette? But it's for you to set it. Am I not the wife?"
"That's true. Well, then, come see me on Tuesday, and we shall seal our love and our marriage."
"On Tuesday, in the afternoon, you will receive my visit," I told her.
You see, my beloved Marguerite, the simplicity of the manners that we displayed in our quest for voluptuousness? No coquetry, no tricks, no loss of time; a single look or a gesture sufficed to speak our desire. We thus understand and divine all.
At the hour designated, we went to the address that Jacques had given us. The tables were set, and this made me think later that there had been a secret plan between my friends and Jacques your letter confirmed this suspicion of mine. Jacques him self fulfilled the functions of maitre d' hotel, and said "Will the husbands offer their hands to their wives so that we may come to the table where dinner awaits us. You will find your names at each place
He installed himself between Marie and myself while Georgette occupied my other side. "Husbands, he said, "who don't kiss their wives before testing the soup are wicked husbands. Embrace your wives.
Georgette and Lucie obeyed.
"Ladies," he then added, "each of you will convey to me the caress of your little husband. You don't wish me to be here as a eunuch."
So Marie gave me an example and I didn't hesitate.
The soup was exquisite and Jacques' incessant jokes drew out all our good humor. Georgette served the entree. At that moment, I felt Jacques' hand on my knee. Marie was standing, her back to us, and as she was leaning over Lucie, I couldn't see what she was doing. Jacques pressed my knee but I didn't move. Marie, laughingly, her bodice unbuttoned, showed her breasts and Lucie began to suck them. My neighbor didn't take away his hand, for I decided to give him mine.
Georgette served the dessert, passing from place to place, just like a waitress. When she came to Marie, she kissed her on the neck. By now Marie had taken off her bodice entirely, and cast it onto a vacant chair, showing us her bare shoulders and her magnificent titties sustained only by her corset. "Now I can breathe," she said. She and Georgette gave each other sucking kisses, their tongues rapiering.
Jacques kept my hand in his and tried to entwine our legs together. Lucie cried: "Well, will you let my wife alone, Georgette?"
"Liberty for all," Georgette replied. So Lucie came to me and said, "Danielle, imitate Marie and take off your bodice."
I disengaged myself of Jacques and turned towards her. "Stand up," she added, "I'm going to suck your titties. You'll see how nice my caresses are."
So standing before her, I half opened my bodice. She slipped her hand under my chemisette, and with great expertise drew my bare bubbies out. She fingered them for a moment until she felt them swell with desire, then her lips pressed avidly to them.
Jacques, behind me, had plunged his hand under my skirts, and he was now rolling it along my thighs and bottom-cheeks. I closed my eyes, wishing to sit down, and I found myself seated on the knees of our cavalier with my skirts trussed up. He, the rogue, profited by replacing his hand with his prick.
Lucie took off my bodice and Jacques kissed my naked shoulders and arms. However, dessert yet awaited us, so we reluctantly awaited the hour for love's pleasure that had not yet rung. Georgette went back to her place and said to Lucie, "I'm afraid that the wolf will eat our wives."
"So much the worse for him," Jacques replied. "You began it and you will be the most punished."
"No, because I'll eat you." They burst out laughing, and Georgette, with a toss of her head, sat on Lucie's knees. Marie, by herself, came to taste what she had on her plate. Jacques pressed me to him, and I gave him back kiss for kiss, while Lucie cheered my enthusiasm. Georgette now approached us and said, "Jacques, give me your hand and I shall prove to you that I'm not a husband whose wife is taken away from him."
"This I want to see," he chuckled.
Georgette slipped his hand under her skirt and Jacques partly abandoned me. I took advantage to get up and leave the table and shake myself, for my clothes were badly rumpled. Lucie looked at me and her eyes asked me if I wished to dine. I replied yes and she went back to her place.
All these scenes, my angel, took place so quickly and so precisely, that one would have said they had been planned in advance. They are engraved in my memory, and their progress quickly accomplished my learning the mysteries of love.
Marie and I kept our titties bare. "For a debutante, our Danielle certainly does it well," Georgette remarked, leaning over to kiss me.
Jacques had ordered, much to our surprise, a huge souffl�. He now brought it in, a napkin over one arm, just like a waiter, and asked if he might cut it for us. When Georgette said, "Certainly, garcon," he retorted slyly, "What will my tip be?"
"A trip around the world," my beskirted "husband" replied.
"I want it at once."
"Come take it." Georgette stood up, trussed up her skirts and presented her bottom. It was delightful seeing under the lacy petticoats. By now our senses were buzzing from the delicate wines and the fine food as well as the general excitement which had unchained our passions.
Jacques fervently unveiled that magnificent backside, and, kneeling behind her, opened her bottom-cheeks and rubbed his tongue delicately against the dainty little rosette.
Marie cried that she was still hungry and wanted her souffl�. So Jacques rose, apologizing to Georgette, and proceeded with his task. Georgette, still standing, without the slightest concern in the world, took off her bodice, her skirt, her petticoat, and sat down with a very thin petticoat, her titties as bare as ours but ingenuously compressed by a black velvet band which showed off all their firmness and amplitude.
They served me first. Then I had a glass of Marsila. My hand glided down Georgette's thigh after I had lifted her little petticoat and chemise, and I tried to frig her curly-haired pussy.
"Danielle," she said, "take a mouthful of Marsila, and I'll suck it from your lips." I hastened to obey, and mouth to mouth, she drank my mouthful of wine.
Lucie circulated around the table until Jacques seized her by the hem of her petticoat and asked: "What are you looking for?"
"Something new."
"Imagine that I am a woman and look for my titties."
"Where are they?" Lucie naughtily asked, amid general hilarity.
Jacques, in his shirtsleeves, now unbuttoned his skirt, showed us his chest with the tiny little nipples.
"Poor friend," Lucie said. "Rub them against the tips of mine, perhaps it will help them to grow."
"Let's see."
They knelt facing each other and forgot all about the souffl�. Georgette, sliding under the table, put her head between my thighs and gamahuched me.
A discussion now arose between Jacques and Lucie. Jacques wanted to profit from his position and fuck her; Lucie prevented this with her hand by shoving his stiff cock back into his trousers. Marie showed us to Lucie, saying, "At least Georgette doesn't neglect 'his' wife!"
"I'm a fool," Lucie replied, "I'm coming to you." Jacques let her go, but raising his voice, cried: "Shall we eat or not?" So we went back to the table. Georgette, who had planted herself in an armchair, kept her legs crossed very high baring her knee and part of her thighs. Marie returned with a new bottle of Marsala and we drank it all. She kept on only her chemise. Then Jacques disappeared. I glanced at Georgette, who, having propped her boots on the edge of the table, showed herself all trussed up and was playing with her own pussy-hairs. "Courage, darling," she said to me, "I'm waiting for you to gamahuch me, but all naked." I was just a bit embarrassed.
Marie took off her chemise, and I couldn't say no myself, and besides it was getting terribly warm in the room. It didn't take me long. Standing beside Marie I kept on only my stockings and my pumps. Georgette, standing, offered me her hand, and gravely conducted me all around the table, presented me to Lucie and Marie who kissed me in turn. When I was led back to my chair, all of us were soon naked and my little "husband" clapped her hands. At this signal, Jacques appeared, also as naked as we. We held hands and advanced to meet him, saluted him by inclining our heads. He kissed us all on the mouth, caressed us, then took me from the group. All this was foreseen, and things went on probably as planned.
My three friends prostrated themselves before us, and having got up after several naughty contortions, wound their bodies together like the Three Graces. They turned around us while Jacques didn't stop kissing my lips and pressing me against him. Desire began to inflame me. In all these poses of ours, my belly ground against his, my thighs spread, begging for his prick to salute my pussy.
Finally, we went toward the sofa, and their Jacques savored his happiness. But first, before fucking me, he enchanted me by gamahuching me and by licking my little bottom hole. My eyes were swimming with the mist of passion, and I could see that my friends were amusing themselves with charming little games. I really, however, could not make out anything much anymore. My arms were pressing a body that was rolling around mine, I was slipping under it. My lips bit my lover's, who was enjoying his victory, my thighs clamped round his bottom. His cock belonged more to me than to him, for it was all inside of my cunny.
Then we had our coffee and Jacques offered me a new assault: I refused for that evening, for the day had really exhausted me.
I had no jealousy when I saw him attach himself to Georgette, and I admired this gentle game of love to which so few women, as well as so few young girls' could witness as we did. The hour was growing late. Nevertheless, we went back to the Beausires at about twelve-thirty, and there we were welcomed with joyous exclamations. We all went to bed with the conviction of having spent a happy day with the hope of future delights.
May I, my Marguerite, add to my preceding letter all this chapter of my life? You have waited to have it, that is true, but now you have it complete, and you shall have everything that follows. Tell your friend Natalie that her husband is a charming man, and that Danielle is not at all displeased with him. Try to find out how they know about me and the General. Till tomorrow, then, when I'll send you a new letter. God, how I love you, and how happy I'll be in your arms. Your little plaything -
Your Danielle.
P.S.: Please don't go so far as to be overwhelmed with fatigue when we meet. You'll find enclosed a letter that Palmyra wrote me. She will show you my successes, and the part that we shall have to draw from all these loves. You'll give it back to me when you arrive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Palmyra Rastegue to Danielle Hollaz:
My little dear, this letter has been in my heart for several days, and I held it back because your degree of initiation into the amorous life the kind that we have already so long adopted hadn't yet been sufficient. Today we may say that you are almost one of us, and if you aren't quite, it's simply a matter of detail rather than of your own free will or ours.
I don't need to know all the marvelous things that I've heard about you to appreciate your merits. The very evening that we came together for the first time, my sympathy was acquired for you as my love was for Pierre. The sympathy of woman for woman, with our natures, will promptly become a desire of friendship, and friendship means the exchange of caresses. Danielle, will you add me to the list that already comprises two names, Laura and Georgette. I shall be a submissive slave to all your caprices. I am gallant, beautiful, rich, coquettish, surrounded with lovers, and all that. Danielle, I offer you to satisfy your slightest desires. My liaison with Laura, that with Pierre which you know about, ought to put you at your ease. With Laura, with Pierre, and with me, we can consecrate the hours that we wish, and you will see me lend myself with every eagerness to all your passionate yearnings. Oh, my little Danielle, let it be that I will soon say as I speak of you, my Danielle, that you will speak of your Palmyra. I will be your wife or your husband, as you choose -
Palmyra.
Reply from Danielle Hollaz to Palmyra Rastegue:
Dear Palmyra, you've cast your eyes upon me, what do you think will become of my modesty? You so beautiful, so adulated everywhere, you desire little Danielle and esteem her worthy of you? The kind things people have told you about me have been greatly abused. No, I don't feel myself initiated enough to pretend to win your caresses or to give you mine. My heart, like yours, has been seized with keen sympathy for your person when, brilliant star that you were, you came to sit down at my aunt Laura's table. How much happiness has come to us from this to which I attribute to you! And yet all this happiness must not blind me to the point of raising myself to the same level as you. Danielle is still, shall we say, a boarder on trial; she intends to give herself to you as a fine, delicate woman, on the day that she will accept your sweet combat. Permit me, dear Palmyra, to finish my transformation, and then, believe, that whether as a wife or a husband, I shall be one of your most beloved and adoring servants. Let me sign myself -
Soon your Danielle.
CHAPTER NINE
Danielle Hollaz to Marguerite de Marvejane:
Here's another letter after the last, my adored one, and we shall gossip together like little magpies. You'll be in my arms, on my lips, my heart will beat with yours, you'll know how much I belong to you, and I'll tell you with all my soul: "My Marguerite, all my love affairs aren't worth one of your kisses."
But I must hasten my story. Life rolls in my veins with precipitant force; amorous declarations besiege me; to choose is impossible; men and women attach themselves to me and all this world forms like links of a chain which they have put around my neck and which I must take off until I can at last perceive what awaits me at the end of this series of adventures.
If I were to hesitate, I should be almost lost, and yet, when the event is produced, it will be so well-prepared and worked out that I will have no time for reflection in the famous accomplishment of an act of love. You see, Danielle is no more free to say yes or no; her senses have already said yes.
As to the return after our escapade at the Beausires', I shall deal with it summarily.
About nine-thirty in the morning, just as I was getting out of bed, there was a knock at my door, and Lucie appeared in an elegant robe.
"You're getting up," she said to me.
"Yes, and very well rested."
"Ready to resume, perhaps?"
"Do you desire my amorous service?"
"Not for the moment, my dear, but I came as an ambassadress."
"As an ambassadress?" I echoed wonderingly.
"Yes indeed. Don't you remember a promise you made yesterday to my brother Charles before our departure?"
"And if I do, what then?"
"Well, Charles has ordered me to ask you if you will relate your most extraordinary adventure of the day in the salon with everyone there to listen, or whether you prefer to tell it to him alone, or with me as the only witness."
"Ha, ha, your brother was born a rogue, and moreover, he knows how to choose his ambassadress."
"Thank you for the compliment, beautiful Danielle. What do you decide?"
"I've had such a great number of adventures that to tell them would embarrass me."
"The one of the dinner will efface the others."
"I must relate it."
"Imagine that you are dreaming, and profit from life, Danielle. Love is the supreme joy of those who do not force it, so taste it without tiring. If it turns out that Charles is to end this little history of yours, do not be too sad."
"Charles is there?"
"Two steps away, his room is at the end of the corridor."
"Then I will say yes, and yet I am still a novice."
"Don't worry, he'll know how to put you at your ease. I shall go for him."
"Please knock before you enter."
"Don't worry, you'll have all the time you wish to heal the little scratches which you incurred in your little games last night."
I blushed and was alone when she left.
In this conversation, you will note, Marguerite, that I had not the slightest suspicion or apprehension as to what was being thought of me of what would have been thought of us if someone had seen Charles entering my room. It seemed so natural. Moreover, he came in so quietly that one would have said this was the castle of the Sleeping Beauty. How was I to occupy the four or five minutes which Lucie granted me to put myself in order? Well, I did as best I could, and when the knock came at the door, I had put on a housecoat which Madame Beausire had lent me. When I opened the door, there was nothing to show that I had just gotten out of bed.
Charles slipped in, Lucie gave him a friendly little push, and then left us alone without consulting me.
He approached me, showed me his gloved hand and said to me: "Since yesterday, it remained as you see it."
"You have constancy to recommend you."
"I shall not take off this glove until it has touched that which its hand has touched."
"You are explicit, Monsieur Charles."
"Don't call me 'monsieur'. "
"Wait a bit."
"Why did you put on that housecoat."
"To receive you in every honor."
"It's too much."
"You're more and more explicit."
"Are you mocking me, Danielle."
"A great deal, Charles."
"Does your gentle appearance perhaps conceal some frightful wickedness."
"Roses have thorns, you know."
"One draws them out."
"With a glove?"
"Yes, to draw them out, and then to keep the glove as a precious souvenir."
"Now, now, don't tackle so much down there."
"You bold little minx, seeking to intimidate me!"
"Not at all, I assure you. But are you going to keep this glove on?"
"Hasn't it rubbed these darling little pussy-hairs?"
"You don't know if they are darling or lovely."
"Show them to me then."
"Ouch, you're rubbing me too hard with that glove." '
"I'll put it in my pocket. Now, here are my bare hands. And do you still say that your pussy-hairs aren't pretty?"
"I never said such a thing."
"Then show them to me."
"No, never."
"So much the better. Then I shall unveil them."
"Let go of my housecoat."
"You wouldn't pardon me if I did."
"Now you're being foolish!"
"You cruel one! A chemise under your housecoat I supposed you would be naked."
"You supposed? You expected for me to await you, then?"
"All naked, yes."
"You are frank. Tell me, Monsieur Charles --. "
"Not that 'monsieur' again!"
"Excuse me, I'm not yet used to it. Tell, me Charles, it seems that to obtain all these benefits of mine which you seem to desire, a little attention on your part wouldn't have spoiled anything."
"You are correct, Danielle, and I shall not renounce the obligations due you. The siren in you will inspire men and give them genius to invent new turns of phrase with which they will express in marvelous fashion all the treasures that you serve to them. I shall be one of the first to mount to heaven and I shall speak to you in the most glowing terms of my love after I have obtained yours from you. I tell you now that I love you madly, and I know that you will laugh at me, and you would be right. Would it not be better, Danielle, for me to tell you that you are beautiful enough to turn to flesh all the stone saints in the calendar and that I beg you to permit the ugly devil that I am to breathe in your love as one breathes in the divine flowers of a garden in Paradise?"
"Girls between your hands and those of your friends are in holy hands," I teased him.
"Not so, for they in turn hold us in their gentle clutches, and by their charming accessibility excite us to be less vulgar than other men would be, so that we may deserve their charms the more."
After this banter, my dear, he hadn't come to my room with my consent to turn pretty phrases. I yielded in full will. I heard his desire, and then naked, both of us on the bed, I opened to him the door of sanctuary. I was more valiant than the night before, and I adored his assault without fatigue and even without too much lassitude thereafter. Oh, how gloriously he fucked me!
At lunch, no one could have suspected our adventure, and we took our leave of each other afterwards, promising that we would meet again.
Monday ended in rather mournful fashion. Had I had too much living on Sunday? It seemed to me that I was as sad as I had ever been, because Laura wasn't dining at the house, since I remained alone with the uncle, the children, and Miss Kattaud, and all we exchanged were words of desperate banality.
I went to my room at about nine that evening. I tried to evoke the ravishing images of the life that I had led for some little time. Since Laura wasn't coming back till very late, I thought of my rendezvous the next day with Georgette, and I also remembered the general. Before I went to bed, I wrote to the general that I would wait in the bus station on Wednesday at two o'clock in the afternoon, and then finally I clambered under my sheets thinking only of you.
Georgette was alone when I got to her place. We had to gossip at first, for we couldn't deprive ourselves of that. Although she is the newest of all my new friends, and the youngest, she seems to be the most expert and cunning in love. She admitted to me, without reticence or trickery, that she adored making love, and that she had made her debut by amusing herself with her brother-in-law Lionel, that she was no more afraid of men than she was of women, and that she hoped to see me follow in every sort of amorous scene that she would dream up.
"You know, my little wife," she said, "you shan't sleep at your place tonight."
"I don't agree," I replied. "I don't decide anything without my aunt's consent."
"You have it."
"I didn't ask for it."
"Read this, and you'll recognize her handwriting."
"Show me."
She showed me the following letter from Laura:
"My dear Georgette, if Danielle gives you her evening tomorrow and you have projects which stretch out this evening, be nice enough to let me know so that I am not uneasy. Danielle may return on Wednesday morning, and Palmyra will lunch with us. Your good friend, Laura."
"Are you already on the best of terms with my aunt?" I asked. "Not yet, but it won't be long."
"Ah?"
"That's true, my dear Danielle. We have the same tastes, the same ideas, the same habits. I'm quite sure that we'll be able to teach each other's mutual pleasures. We shall share our fantasies with other initiates, and thus our terrain of joy will enlarge itself."
"What do you intend to do with my evening?"
"This is not the time to tell."
"So let's send a telegram."
"When we go out, yes."
"We're going out?"
"Afterwards."
This "afterwards," you know what that meant, my Marguerite. What a fire there was in that Georgette! I shan't describe scenes that you can guess and which would become monotonous by continual repetition. I can tell you that I was really the wife of Georgette, not only because she used an object such as my aunt does (the artificial prick, you know!), but by the graduated skill with which she took hold of my ideas and my imagination. At one moment, without there being anything abnormal between us, when she was on me, her arms around my neck, her lips on mine, I flung my legs around her body, and she, suddenly seizing my bottom-cheeks, wriggled herself so much against me that she made me gush down all my cream and I almost died of bliss.
Ah, I shall confess it to you with all my heart; in that moment of feminine constraint, in which the woman reveals herself such a powerful personality in a science such as Georgette used, my eyes half opened and I contemplated the dazzling beauty of my companion, transfigured by the joy of her triumph.
Is it possible that the human spirit illumines the visage with such reflections? Dying, I should not thus shiver in the arms of a live being! A supernatural being, more beautiful than the angels themselves, possessed me and drove me into ecstasy. These breasts which married with mine, the whiteness of her flesh which merged with mine, her fine plump bottom-cheeks which my fingers squeezed, all this formed a woman, and this woman knew how to be my true lover.
In that moment, my Marguerite, Georgette was truly my love. I loved her enough to become mad: my lips took hers in a sudden transport and I sought to devour her; like an eel, she slipped onto her side, drew one of my hands to her pussy and murmured, "You see, Danielle, that without any masculine ornament under one's belly, one can also be an excellent husband."
"Georgette, Georgette, is it really true, tell me, have you had me?"
"Yes, my little wife, and if you're content with me, I shall ask something of you."
"Ask what you wish."
"Accept as a serious thing our little joke of Sunday, and keep for me, even when we are with our friends, this lovely little title of 'little husband.'"
"As much as you wish, my little husband. My little husband, how sweet it is to say."
She smiled, kissed me, and we amused ourselves frigging each other. That evening, at the dinner table, we were alone with Madame Sifferland. Monsieur Sifferland had been kept away on business.
Georgette's sister was of exquisite grace. At eight o'clock, all three of us went out, and Teresita (Madame Sifferland had forbidden me to call her by any other name) left us at the post office where I sent my telegram to Laura.
Georgette was obviously nurturing some project but was silent about it. Her sister had given her full liberty. The authorization given me by my aunt did not allow me to astonish myself over the degree of latitude given my friend. Besides, with the preponderant role which love plays in all my new relationships, it would be impossible to impose any kind of barrier to these young girls.
When we left the post office, Georgette hailed a carriage and told a coachman to take us to the street of the Grandes Ecluses, number 227.
"What's that address?" I asked.
"That of a friendly house."
"Again?"
"A house where you will be the witness to many amusing stories. You're not afraid of anything with me, are you, my little wife?"
I shook my head. She laughed and said: "Then you'll have a good time."
"Georgette, will it be an imitation of Sunday?" I asked her.
"Not entirely."
"Then it will be somewhat like it."
"You'll see."
"Tell me, to what are you delivering me up."
"Delivering you up? But to no one, you belong to me.
"Danielle isn't naive anymore, Georgette. It isn't for yourself that you're taking me to this address. If you'd still wanted me, we could have gone to bed at your place."
"I see that Danielle hasn't lost the habit of reasoning."
"I simply want to be informed out of pure curiosity."
"And your curiosity is about to be satisfied, because we are arriving now."
We were. We had stopped in front of the house, and Georgette paid the driver, and we rang the bell. An old woman opened the door to us, saluted us, closed the door, without uttering a word. The house was silent but very well lighted. The inside was really superbly furnished, contrasting with the rather drab exterior. But there was nothing luxurious along the stairway that we climbed to the first floor. Georgette took a key from her pocket and we entered a very beautiful antechamber. Except for one room, all the rooms were lighted; this dark room intrigued me, and I entered it. My attention was at once drawn by luminous points which stood out upon one of the walls. I asked what it was.
"These are peepholes, through which we will see what is taking place in that room without anyone's being aware of our presence. I recommend to you only the greatest silence and the greatest prudence."
"Then what are we going to see?"
"All the scenes of love."
"Executed by whom?"
"I'll leave that to surprise you. But there's nothing like such spectacles to inspire you."
"Are we going to take part in this festival?"
"Sshh. I think they're coming up."
Georgette quickly closed the door and drew the bolts. This precaution made me rather dreamy. So people must be coming whom she didn't know and couldn't be quite sure. We heard the voices of two men. Georgette winked at me and whispered: "Good, since these are friends, we may show ourselves."
"My astonishment grew as I followed her. The two Rastegues, Ludovic, the banker, husband of Palmyra, and Doctor Prosper, the husband of Paola Raymonde, of whose marriage I've already advised you, had just entered.
"Well, my dear children," Ludovic cried, "you're here early, which is admirable."
"Lionel didn't dine with us," Georgette replied, "and that allowed us to leave earlier."
"Well, Mademoiselle Danielle, aren't you tired of coming from surprise to surprise?" I smiled and shook my head: "Not tired, but I will admit a little bewildered."
"It will pass, my child," Doctor Prosper remarked as he then carefully examined a large room which you could see through the peepholes. "Well," he said, "this room isn't too bad, but at least the draperies might have been changed because our charming ladies my find them rather dull."
"That's true," Ludovic agreed. "We must speak of this to Laura."
"In due course. But the time is getting close. Nobody seems in a hurry to come."
"You're awaiting peole?"
"Certainly, Mademoiselle Danielle."
What the devil was Georgette doing in that dark room? She had left me there with the two Rastegue brothers, one of whom continued his examination of the room, while the other looked at me rather ambiguously. Was it him that I was to serve later?
The doctor passed in front of me, smiled and said to me: "What a lovely little devil you are."
"I, Monsieur Prosper?"
"Yes, you. Our friend Jacques is mad over you."
"Jacques!"
"Jacques Nassau, Mademoiselle Danielle, whose heart you have overturned to such a point that he has almost neglected Lena, I mean of course Lena Castex the future sister-in-law of your aunt."
At this point, Georgette returned and said, "tell me, Prosper, Paola must have gone out late since it's taking her so long to find what she needs."
"Quite the contrary. She left the house at two o'clock."
A carriage stopped and we ran to hide in the dark room. The brothers were to be spectators as we were. Georgette led me to one of those luminous points. "Look in there and don't move," she whispered. I could see the entire room. Paola entered in a magnificent black satin evening gown with golden sequins; with her was a gentleman, very fat and red in the face, small, looking rather insignificant. She took off her hat and gloves. The man sat down and said to her: "We're at your place?"
"No, at one of my friend's," she replied. What did that mean? Were they strangers to each other?
The man, without seeming to be more than indifferent, slid his hand under her skirt, pinched her and said, "You're well made and I think we'll get along marvelously."
"I hope so," she replied.
"You promise me to be very nice."
"I will be."
"Well, then, commence."
Now then, dearly beloved, this is what I saw: Madame Prosper Rastegue delivered herself to all the fantasies of that gentleman. Both of them, without undressing, amused themselves first fondling each other side by side. She pulled up her skirts in front, and he had his trousers open. Then they stood up together, he stretched himself out on the rug and forced her to sit down on his face asking her to rub his prick with her hand. From time to time he pulled his head out from under Paola's skirts where he must have been stifling, for he was as red as a lobster.
This exercise apparently tiring him, he sat down on the rug. At his indications, Paola placed a "chair in front of him, and used it as a sort of praying-stool. Lying under her, he reached up, grasped the hems of her skirt and began to rub it against his cock For a moment his eyes rolled with fury, as if an evil genie had seized him in its power. Then he grew calm, pulled up Paola's skirts, ordered her to keep them lifted up, stretched out again on the rug, and, unbuttoning his vest, his shirt and his underwear, he asked her -
Here, my dear, I don't dare write, it's so monstrous, it denotes the perversity of the male, and it explains the enslavement of a woman to a man. When horror is attached to the sweet transport of love, it seems to sicken me yet I must tell you, in order, as I myself, you will appreciate so much more the friends to whom I bound myself.
He asked her to piss on his chest.
Paola, springing to her feet, replied: "That, never. A pleasure which demands something filthy is not for me definitely not!"
It didn't seem to bother him. Lying back down on the rug, his prick still sticking out of his unbuttoned under drawers, he said to Paola, "You're wrong, my dear little one, but if it vexes you, let's not speak any more about it, and come here."
"Don't you want anything else of me?"
"You told me that you wouldn't be hurried in our rendezvous, and that you would be nice are you going to abuse my confidence?"
"No, but I hoped that with a woman such as myself you would show more ardor and less egotism."
"Egotism, my beautiful child? Don't all men act the same way with women? Be just! Isn't it better to have an affair with a man who knows how to stretch out pleasure than with some rascal who brutalizes a woman to do his business as quickly as he can and winds up violating her?"
Paola didn't reply. The man, still stretched out on his back, begged her to kneel over his thighs, to pull up her skirts, and when she had thus posed herself, he amused himself rubbing his prick against her pussy.
Why should I find that bestial, I who, through the way the general acted, already knew that certain men sought more to taste the flesh of a woman than to possess her? I turned my eyes from the peephole and, accustomed to the darkness that surrounded me, I tried to study the effect on my companions which this spectacle was procuring.
Prosper, who was Paola's husband, seemed riveted to his vantage point. Far from being vexed, he was in ecstasy over his wife's behavior, and it seemed that he had a greater passion for her in proportion to the way the unknown man abused her patience. I could guess this impression from the way his hand moved against his trousers as if to appease the stiff strobbing animal that was quaking between his thighs.
Georgette was whispering to me, "He's a grotesque, impotent fool."
Ludovic wasn't watching at all. Stretched out on the sofa, he was resting. He saw my indifference and came towards me. "Does this game amuse you?" he whispered.
"No, the man is abhorrent to me."
"Oh, he's not very strong. He's a man spoiled by an easy childhood."
"I pity your sister-in-law."
"You pity her? I guarantee you that she doesn't regret spending her time thus."
"But that's impossible!" I breathed in horror.
"Paola has quite an unusual nature. She knows better than her present cavalier what he wants, and she will play with him as a cat does with a mouse.
If it were otherwise, she would have dismissed him a long time ago."
"What does she want from him?"
"To learn things."
"What?"
"You perhaps won't understand the word."
"Say it anyway."
"The word is paillardises."
"What does that mean?"
"These are amorous fantasies which become excessive, thanks to a lubricity which suggests an animal."
"And Paola wants to learn that?"
"Yes, to refine it, to seek its happier side, its more imaginative bent."
The young woman's voice, at this moment, drew back our attention to the peepholes. Paola didn't have her gown on anymore, and in her turn she was lying on her back. The man was wearing only his shirt, and was sitting on Paola's chest, rubbing his cock between her titties and she was saying: "What a funny man you are, you prefer the open roads to those which are covered."
"Let me plant it between the two."
"It won't go off well."
"I think it will."
"I assure you it won't."
"Then whip me."
"I should hurt you besides, the position isn't very comfortable for me."
"Then let's try something else." He helped her rise, and they sat down on the couch.
"Come with me," Ludovic murmured. "They're going to content themselves with a little dirty talk for the time being."
He took me by the hand and led me to a sofa. "In a little while," he said, "you'll have an explanation of everything you see. When that man leaves, a festival awaits us here upstairs. We are here as in our own house. Will you accept me for your cavalier? I am the friend of all those you love, shall we be friends together?"
"I could hardly say no."
"Danielle, your liberty is absolute. If I don't please you, or if another one of those who will be with us pleases you more, I shall bow to him and have no rancor towards you. I shall await with resignation till you deign to accept me among the number of your vassals."
"What reward is the suzerain to have on that day, Monsieur Ludovic?"
"To have one more heart attached to her triumphal chariot, to count upon my most entire devotion, to consider my fortune as yours, to be a good fairy not only for her friends but also for the unfortunates whom she wishes to appease."
"That is not only a pretty speech but is enough to tempt me."
"Accept me, then, and you will have made a great step toward the happiness that is being prepared for you."
I said nothing, my dear Marguerite, but in this dark room, I knew that no one could see my blushes. So I leaned over his shoulder and put my hand between his legs. In silence, he let it slip you know where. I took that which it had gone to seek, and we thus reposed, I amusing myself in frigging him, he in kissing the nape of my neck, until a sudden violent sound made us hurry back to our peepholes.
Paola, on her hands and knees, her skirts lifted to her shoulders, her bottom upturned, delivered that luscious backside of hers to the attack of the fat man who, sweating, grunting, was trying his best to plunge his deflating prick into the dainty rosette between those two white globes. I shall never forget that scene.
Paola laughed at his useless attempts, and although she proffered her bottom in all its magnificent amplitude; although with his convulsing fingers he yawned her bottom-cheeks apart and approached his dart towards the right spot, trying to keep it firm so that it might cross the bastion, his poor devil of a prick finished by bowing its head, folding up, diminishing, and then falling inert against that ambery groove which, tightening suddenly, imprisoned it.
"I can't do it anymore, I can't do it anymore," he groaned.
Paola, superb in her voluptuous sensuality, brusquely turned around, pushed him back onto the rug, squatted over his thighs, took his cock between her fingers, and then began gently, then quickly, to frig him. Holding it, she rubbed it to and fro against her belly and her pussy fur, against her thighs, her eyes glowing with savage joy over his impotence. She saw him twist and convulse, and she kept up the task till suddenly his cock grew darker, shuddered, sprang up and finally rose in frantic spasms. Without knowing it, he had had his climax.
She rose, and scornfully threw him a handkerchief, saying: "Why were you saying that you couldn't, when you have?"
He looked at the handkerchief with such a stupor that in spite of my ignorance of what was going on I almost burst out laughing.
"Yes, yes," he said, clutching the handkerchief, "It's true, here's the proof. Oh, you've achieved a miracle!"
"I'm only a married woman, playing truant to grant alms of a little love to poor hungry devils."
"Alms!"
"Are you getting your hundred francs?"
"The devil, I would have preferred that instead of being stickied all over this handkerchief, it would be somewhere else."
"Is that my fault? I gave myself to you with the best will in the world."
"Well, I can't complain, but at least help me to dress, I have to leave."
"Then you're not satisfied with your servant?"
"Well, satisfied, to a certain point."
"Wasn't I nice, as you wanted?"
"You refuse me what I wanted above all."
"Bah? Address yourself to women of the street for such a thing."
Not a kiss, not a caress, not the slightest mark of sympathy from Paola. When he was dressed and ready, he said to her, "I shall ask you a little service. We're quite a ways from where I live, and I don't have any money on me. I've given you all I had --would you lend me ten francs. I'll send them back to you."
She shrugged, and with a cold smile said to him, "Here are twenty, and you needn't return them. So all your day has cost you is four louis."
"You aren't angry?"
"I don't believe we shall ever meet again."
"Who knows? Paris isn't so big what's the name of your friend? I'll ask her for you."
"It's no use. You wouldn't find her. Besides, she's married, lives in this apartment with her husband, and it's because they're gone that I sometimes come here."
"And you, why won't you give me your name or address?"
"Take care with all your questions that you don't have too long to wait for an answer."
"You are damnably vexing!" he grumbled. "Well, so much the worse. By and large, you're a pretty good girl, and I should have been happy to do something for you. Goodbye, my beauty."
That's how .that man left, and I see you, my gentle Marguerite, reading these lines, sharing my bewilderment.
What necessity obliged Paola to lend herself thus to this man, and why did her husband and brother-in-law, rich, honored and well-reputed endure such adventures? Did Paola have hidden vices? What was the meaning of this comedy? To the question which my eyes posed to them as soon as we turned on the lights, both brothers smiled and Prosper said to me: "By means of filthy tricks which are tolerated once by chance with an unknown who is rich enough to pay for the favors of an elegant woman, our wives learn to love us the more. If it happens that sometimes they meet a man who has an unusually elite nature, we may all later become friends. Finally, my dear child, as a last word upon this particular chapter of love, remember that you can ceaselessly learn new fantasies."
"Why do they demand money?"
"They fix a rather high price, my dear, so that they won't be at the mercy of the first scoundrel who comes along."
We joined Paola, who, having left the room in which she had received the gentleman, was relaxing in a bath that had been prepared in advance. She held out her hand: "Good evening, beautiful Danielle, did I amuse you?"
"She felt pity for your fate," Ludovic laughingly responded.
"Pity? It wasn't worth the trouble. In all this business, I remained my own mistress. From the moment I arrived, I knew the man, and I could understand what little perversions were harboring in his brain. I guessed it right away, and he pleased me in trying to go all around Robin Hood's barn before he finally decided to pop the question."
"Which you guessed?"
"Don't give me too much applause for that. Every-time one of his fingers tickled me, he arranged his palm in the form of a receptacle. Then, hurrying the movement, he whistled, the way one does to a difficult horse. I was waiting for his demand. I was certain that if I had consented to his proposition to piss on him, he would have slipped his face under my thighs so as to be drowned, and then he would have had a climax immediately."
"Then it was only the fear of those kisses that stopped you?"
"What did it matter to me to piss on that man? But, have no fear, my charming Danielle, I don't allow such bestialities with our friends."
While we were chatting thus, the men had left us. I was so preoccupied with Paola that I forgot Georgette for a few moments. Soon, I saw her naked beside me, and she said: "Well, Danielle, what are you waiting for to prepare yourself?"
I had a revelation. The festival announced by
Ludovic was going to begin, and in order to take part in it, one had to undress.
"You certainly aren't afraid of us?" Paola smilingly asked. "You see, I'm not worried with you."
"I shouldn't dare," I murmured to Georgette.
"Your nature is too valiant not to conquer such false timidity. I'll help you," she said. So partly by force and partly by persuasion, my little husband conquered all my resistance, and I was just like her, just like Georgette, at the moment that Paola emerged from her bath. We dried her, powdered her and perfumed her.
"Darling," she said to me, "come here and let me give you a loving kiss as a sign of good friendship and welcome to our society."
In a long kiss which ran from my lips to my titties, from my titties to my thighs, thence to my bottom-cheeks, from my bottom-cheeks to my shoulders, she breathed in all my person, going into ecstasies over my charms. She had hardly finished this when Ludovic and Prosper appeared as unclad as we. I had no longer any right to be astonished at anything. Ludovic came to me and graciously said: "Dear Danielle, you accepted me as cavalier, so take my arm that I may accompany you."
"Take your arm in that attire?"
"Do you know what it proclaims?"
"No," I truthfully answered.
"That we are not hypocrites and that we have no ugliness to hide. We shall begin and communicate by the interior. The rugs which stretch out in all the rooms are very handsome and well kept. Here we may circulate at our ease without worrying about clothing."
The stairway was very narrow and we couldn't go down two, side by side; I refused to go down first. Ludovic didn't insist, but he didn't let go of my hand, on the pretext of keeping me from falling.
So we came to an antechamber whose walls and doors were hidden under heavy drapes. At the four corners of the room a knight in armor with naked sword in hand, stood on guard. At the place of the door of entry which gave out on the top of the stairway, I noticed in a magnificent frame the portrait of a naked woman: the portrait of Paola with the background of a superb garden. In the middle of this room there was a circular divan and, in back of it, a magnificent rubber plant.
"My dear Danielle," Ludovic said to me while I examined the room, "all the rooms in this apartment are in this same luxurious style. Rich draperies and corners hidden by draperies which will cover the most tender struggles of love. There's really only one room on this floor and yet one may say that all the closets and salons which are found there are nothing else. This entry door is sealed. When we bought furnishings, our friends and I installed it to our whims. For example, near the stairway by which we came up this way there is another door and another little stairway which leads to rooms located on the floor below. Everywhere in this house you are as if you were in your own place. Your aunt, your future uncle, Georgette, Lucie, my sisters, my wife, my brothers-in-law, Jacques Nassau, and others come here often. This is to say to you that you are in friendly country. When you lift that drape, you will be in the presence of some people whom you know already. Now do you feel up to taking my arm and making an appearance?"
"Are there people there?"
"Your admirers, and you will recognize them."
"Show myself thus?"
"Take a sip from this glass and you will have no further care." Marguerite, emotion was burning my throat. I took three swallows of gentle liqueur. It seemed to circulate in my veins like fire. I seized Ludovic's arms, pressed myself against him, and murmured, "Let's enter." It was like a buzzing all around me. I perceived in a cloud that veiled my eyes for a moment four men and three women, all naked. I recognized Eliacan Sizac, the husband of Paola's sister; Theodore Castex, the future brother-in-law of my aunt; Ernest Delron, my future uncle; Desire Beausire, the husband of one of Ludovic's sisters, and Juliette
Sizac, Lina Castex, Adrieirne Beausire, wives of these gentlemen. Lina wished me welcome and said to me: "Didn't I give you good advice, my little darling, in inviting you to ask your aunt the cause for her severity?"
Then, as in a flash of lightning, I understood all the threads of this bewildering plot for my brother and myself: Laura's severity, her love, her protection granted my relationship with Pierre, the successive presentation to all my friends, the exchange visits, the permission to go out alone, the escapade of Sunday, the intervention of Georgette, the permission to spend the night so generously bestowed; and on the other side, the little trickeries of Palmyra with Pierre, his advice and his insinuations all this to bring us here. So I said to Lina: "Oh, Madame, it's still too difficult for me to measure the degree of gratitude that I owe you."
"Don't measure it, and please stop calling me 'madame.' Here we all call one another by our first names, and we use the intimate thee and thou. You could hardly expect us to act otherwise, considering the scarcity of our costumes," she laughed.
She executed a little pirouette which made her bump against Desire Beausire; he took her by the waist and kissed her a long and lingering time.
"Permit your uncle," Ernest said to me, "to place at your feet all his homage and to grant him a tender kiss in token of his future hopes."
"Over Laura?"
"Over Laura and over you, you little flirt."
I looked at Ludovic, who still held my arm.
"Grant it to him," he told me. So I gave my lips to Ernest. I was presented to everyone, as if they didn't know me, and I received a compliment from each one. If that other Sunday I had admired my three friends Georgette, Marie and Lucie, I swear to you that I contemplated with no less pleasure these three married women Juliette, Lina and Adrienne. What delicacy of finesse in their bodies! Lina, the smallest, of medium height, had a suppleness of contours which would make the most famous beauty in the world jealous; the roundness of her titties and of her bottom was harmonized delightfully with her full thighs and spectacularly curving calves. Her very white belly stood out all the more with the fact that her pussy-hair had a reddish-brown tint, since the hair of her head was dark brown, and a little black beauty spot on her right hip drew my gaze with fascination.
Juliette, who was a curly blonde, a little taller than Lina, seemed indeed to be Paola's worthy sister in the beauty of her body and the firmness of her flesh. She was the best made of the three, as regards her ample titties, which were closely spaced. If any man had slipped his cock between those two luscious titties, they would have held him snugly in that narrow groove. Always ready to allow them to be kissed (for, what I have already judged till now, a woman's titties are supremely exciting for a man) she often put her hand to them, amusing herself in taking poses which would enhance her curves.
Adrienne, the tallest of the three, brunette, slim, was a true model of perfection. She had certainly less titties than Juliette, yet those titties were also closely spaced and their tips seemed to pout upward. Her longer legs were noteworthy for the finesse of her calves, for the delicacy of her feet. In the jut of her bottom which was admirably preferred by the accentuated curve of her loins, one could see a woman modeled like her sister Marie, so far as caresses adoring her bottom were concerned. A certain melancholic face gave her an even greater sensuality, and I stared at her the most of all.
When I will have told you that all these three were as lovely in their faces as they were in their bodies, you can understand what a charming spectacle of femininity I had before me. To talk to you about the men is less important. All these gentlemen, quite excited, did not make too much impression on me since I was a bit too much of a novice to particularize. The only one I really noticed was Desire Beausire, who, judging by the thickness of his cock, let me think of that naughty Monsieur Thresse, who had dared to martyr my own poor Marguerite. He was certainly the boldest of all and in recalling now the four men whom I knew at that time, I felt that he surpassed them handsomely. This thickness of cock was sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse for a woman but I didn't have enough experience yet to decide.
Paola, Georgette and Prosper appeared in their turn, and they crowded around the young Madame Rastegue to welcome her with new information as to the gentleman who had accompanied her. Paola explained: "I met him at the Champ-Ely sees; he showed himself to be very assiduous. We dined together and he accepted my conditions as I accepted his. He told me he was a banker at Lyon. He was discreet and didn't bother me to find out my name, so I acted the same way towards him. We may see each other and he may be useful to us, I'm not sure. He's vulgar, lacks education, possesses a weak constitution under a robust appearance. He may have some value I don't yet know."
We were chatting in a very lovely salon, surrounded with deep red draperies. We could see a suite of little salons, all as lighted as the one in which we were.
"Ladies," said Ludovic, "before lunch, let us have a little waltz, and I shall play the piano."
Lina asked me if I would waltz with her, and I blushed and said. "Oh, not that way."
Ludovic sat down at the piano, and Georgette flung herself into Prosper's arms, Adrienne linked herself with Theodore, Lina took Eliacan, and Paola went with Ernest. Juliette profitted during this dance to show me through the apartment what a marvel of marvels.
In a restrained space, everything was reunited. Three little salons, decorated in draperies and rich fabrics with the wide sofa at the back, surmounted by an enormous mirror. An oval dining room, surrounded by divans all along its walls; the table was set for a dozen persons, with a black satin armchair for each guest. In a little front room, a platter with a superbly concocted dessert and a buffet sumptuously garnished with cold meats, cheeses and other delicacies; two boudoirs with couches; a huge bathroom in which you could find everything you desired in the way of perfume and powder and cordials and essences etcetera.
"This bathroom is reserved for women and ladies," Juliette said to me. "The gentlemen's bathroom is upstairs."
She seemed to be more and more amused at my astonishment and all my questions, and she added: "This is nothing, Danielle, in comparison with the insulation of our villa which we will show you later."
"Soon, I hope," I said breathlessly.
"What do you think of it, Desire," Juliette turned to him. He chuckled and said: "My word, I think she's quite ready. I watched her in the country, and I think that with a little more experience she'll be the loveliest of our ladies." With this he took my hand and kissed it.
"I have an idea, Juliette," he remarked. "While Ludovic finishes his waltz, you get acquainted with Danielle. We're alone, and, for once, you'll go ahead of your brother-in-law."
"No," I said, as casually as I could I was certainly terrified by Desire's huge prick "I promised Ludovic, and I always keep my word."
He guessed my fear, and pressed me against him as he said: "No, no, Juliette, the couples are set for this night, and there's no program. We shall make an understanding at lunch, so let's be good, if we want others to be good to us."
Since he had supported my unspoken plea, I gave him a tender kiss, while Juliette whispered in my ear; "You're afraid of his cock, then you're not yet ready to come to our villa."
"Everything takes time," Desire philosophically observed, as he went back to the grand salon.
We saw Adrienne waltzing with Theodore, the two of them forming a single body, so tightly were they entwined. At moments their lips fused, and the young woman rubbed her belly against her partner's, who tried to fuck while they kept step to the music. Ludovic at the piano laughed happily at Theodore's plight in not being able to accomplish his desire and cried: "Another turn, my good man, and you'll rip off your weapon."
Georgette, Paola, and Lina were fanning themselves and chatting with Ernest Eliacan. Prosper placed the names upon the plates. Entering at the same time as we did, he said, "Enough music, Ludovic, lunch is ready. Let us escort the ladies." The banker left the piano and hurried up to offer me his arm. Knowing that the partners were fixed for the night, I noticed them as I moved around the table, and I saw that there wasn't the slightest jealousy among any of us. Desire and Juliette, Eliacan and Lina, Theodore and Paola, Prosper and Georgette, Ernest and Adrienne. With Ludovic I made the sixth couple.
In spite of our light attire, there were no scenes like Sunday. We chatted all the time at lunch, and then every couple finally went into a room in this very hospitable house. Ludovic took me with him and kept me all night long. He behaved very amorously and we had at least an hour of hot fucking before we went to sleep. He wakened me twice to start all over again, and I must admit to you, my dear, I wasn't at all unhappy about it. In the morning when I woke up, only Ludovic and Lina were there and I was given a note from Georgette, which promised me a rendezvous very soon.
Laura received me on her return with much tenderness and asked if I was satisfied. I told her that I was and that I was very happy.
"Then I acted correctly in introducing you to my friends," she smiled.
"My heart will never forget the delights which, thanks to you, were revealed to me."
"And I shan't lose anything of your love?"
"Oh, no, nothing. You're so beautiful and you know so much!"
"We shall love each other again, often, my darling."
"And Pierre?"
"He's more restive than you. Only since this night is he really my lover."
"Palmyra was with you."
"As well as Charles Vautrin."
"And she's with him!"
"Yes, but Pierre didn't want to see him so the two went off together, although he consented."
"Well, that's a beginning."
"I said as much to Palmyra who was becoming despondent over your brother's super modesty."
"Why didn't you take him to the Grandes Ecluses?"
"He might have been capable of committing stupid-ness there. I believe that you alone, now that you are aware of our pleasures, will have more influence over him to link him to us."
At this dinner, Palmyra gave me the letter which I sent you. She slipped it to me on the sly, and I augur from it that Laura must have a great deal of faith in her. This thought will determine my reply.
But here you have quite a long letter, my adored one. Read it as quickly as you can, and I can hardly wait until you arrive. I shall kiss you as a husband and as a wife, as you choose -
Your Danielle
CHAPTER TEN Danielle Hollaz to Marguerite de Marvejanes:
To WRITE TO YOU, MY BELOVED MARGUERITE, HELPS me to prepare myself for the time that separates us before our reunion. It is to tell you my experience in locking myself in my room alone and thinking of you, of foreseeing the voluptuousness that will soon reunite us.
Do you feel the same way? Are you collecting all your strength to intoxicate your little Danielle under the gentle sensation of your caresses? Tell me, am I truly your Danielle, as you are always my Marguerite, and all these experiences of love which have only given me more desire to possess you, have yours also only sharpened your appetite for me I do not hope that they have calmed the ardor which you are going to bring in loving me! I'm waiting for a letter from you this morning, but I didn't get anything. However, I don't neglect you, and these confessions of mine prove to you that your place in my heart will never be altered.
How many things I have to tell you, because I'm not going to hold anything back to your arrival. When you come, only our love shall occupy us at least the first night.
Palmyra observed a certain indifference towards me. She left with my aunt and Lina who had lunched with us. So I was free to go to my rendezvous with the general. I saw him on the boulevard near the juncture of Drouot and Leoelletier Streets; he recognized me and hurried up to meet me. "What a divine child you are!" he said.
"No, general, but a feeble girl who listens too much to her feebleness which pushes me towards you."
"And you will devote all your day to me?"
"My afternoon until six, an hour at which, by every necessity, I must come back home."
"Isn't there any way to lengthen that time, my darling?"
"Impossible, my aunt would be vexed."
"Ah, you live with an aunt?"
"A young aunt, Madame Laura Hollaz, the widow of my uncle, who has taken in my brother and me who are orphans."
"And is your aunt so severe?"
"She has her moments. She thinks I'm with friends, at the Rastegue family. She mustn't know everything I do, however. Do you know the Rastegues?"
"Their name isn't unknown to me."
"A charming family. Madame Rastegue is one of the loveliest women in Paris."
"She's less than you are, you little demon."
"You would change your mind if you saw her."
"I see only you."
Thus chatting, we arrived at his apartment. We chatted a while longer. From time to time, his eyes sparkled; then he took my hand and as on the tramway, he slid it into his trousers. He became very red, breathed heavily, and then freed me. But the scene which he made me perform in the little salon wouldn't be believed if it hadn't happened to me.
We went in there together and naked. He stretched me out under the tiger's belly and getting on all fours, he gamahuched me for a long while. Then, himself clambering onto the pedestal of the statue, he placed me behind him, asking me to put my face against his bottom. He posed one of my hands against his left thigh and in the other he clasped his prick. Thus, while I squeezed it, I could also rub it gently with my other hand. At his orders, I saw him slap his own bottom with one hand while he squeezed my arm with the other and said to me: "Faster, press more with your hand, slip you fingers towards the tip there it's awfully soft, hold on, don't let go, caress it with your palm now, shake it gently, squeeze it, faster now, oh, God!"
Blushing furiously, I let my arm fall at my side. My hand was sticky-wet. He leaped down from the pedestal, wiped his thighs with a handkerchief. I stood there stupefied. Then he said to me: "I want no responsibility, my beautiful child, and before you, who are a perfection, I take every precaution. I've judged you well, I love you more than you believe, and I respect you in manner."
"A strange kind of respect, General."
"Yes, I'm an egotist. Be very certain of that, for although I would prefer to go much further, don't for a moment think to yourself that I shan't accomplish just as much as all the rascals who pay court to you."
"No one pays court to me. I've named you a few personal friends whom I visit, which is to tell you that through my situation I am sheltered from adventures such as this which brings me here."
"Darling, if I were to go forward, I should commit stupidities, and at my age one shouldn't have illusions. If that happened, I shouldn't be my master anymore, you'd become indispensable to me, and I might be mad enough to ask you to marry me."
"My position of family and fortune does not make me exactly a beggar, General," I said rather coldly.
"It's not to hurt you that I say this. In my opinion, a woman who has had education and who has tact, no matter what her social sphere may be, is more important than a marchioness or a duchesse who is a fool. I speak for myself. I'm reasonably old and I'm not at all handsome. The world would laugh at me if I married you. Soon, you yourself in place of satisfying my whims, would get disgusted with me, and would end by deceiving me with one of my own aides, or some nobody that you met elsewhere. The title of general would go to your head and we shouldn't at all get along. So, my little friend, forgive me my ugly old amorous manias, don't abandon me. One day you'll admit all my delicacies."
"I should otherwise have loved you so much!"
"Be silent, you little devil."
Yes, my Marguerite, my eyes glowed and I kissed him fervently as I murmured: "You don't know Danielle, my friend. You don't know what she can do for your happiness more than you can dream. But we shan't speak of it anymore. I shall be obliged to show myself less kind, and my health will suffer from it. It's true that I'm not an expert in the pleasures of love, General, but I know enough to tell you that a woman, just like a man, needs her own share in every act of love. If one doesn't give it to her and use her capabilities, it's monstrously immoral to take from her lips the cup he presents before she has time to sip from it."
This philosophical reflection made him ponder for a moment. As he helped dress me, he said to me, "Danielle, if you will be three days from now at our place of rendezvous, we shall walk and chat."
"And if I'm not free?"
"You'll write me."
"And if somebody meets us together?"
"I'll take you into the woods, where no one will see us."
At the door, I found myself face to face with Jacques Nassau and Clara Pellen, Natalie's sister, just getting out of the carriage. "We have a box for the opera," they told me, "and we've come to find you."
My aunt granted permission without the least trouble. It was a lovely musical evening. As I looked over the hall during an intermission, I saw, suddenly, in a seat near the orchestra, side by side, the general and my own brother! I put my opera glasses to my eyes and looked: The General had an imperceptible smile. Pierre saw me stare with my glasses and came to join us.
"Pierre," I told him, "I must chat with you."
"Tomorrow if you like." After a few banal greetings exchanged with Jacques and Clara, he left us.
The general hadn't lost him from view as soon as he spoke to me, and the moment Pierre went back to his seat, the General resumed their conversation. The program over, I was taken back home. En route, Jacques said to me: "Would it be too much to ask, Danielle, to keep you with us for dinner tomorrow evening?"
"Where?"
"In the little apartment from Sunday."
"Who'll be there."
"Clara and Eliacin."
"I agree. Pick me up at five-thirty."
"If your aunt would like to join us, she's certainly welcome."
"I'll invite her in your name," I said.
The next morning, I gave Laura the invitation and she said to me: "It will marvelously facilitate your task with Pierre."
"I've given him a rendezvous for this afternoon."
"I know that."
"Someone must have told you." Laura shook her head and smiled: "His afternoons belong to me, but he wrote me to let me know about your request and to suggest that we postpone our own meeting until the evening."
"Haven't his ideas changed since your last evening?"
"He hasn't really shown that. We shall try to decide his mind at this dinner, and perhaps we shall finish by leading him to wisdom tonight."
"Count on all my help."
"In that case, success is certain," Laura smiled at me.
Pierre was waiting for me and in excellent good humor. I said to him: "Little brother, be gentle, and today be very good to me. Not because I don't want everything you want, but because since our rendezvous, many things have happened. I accepted the advice that Palmyra gave you, I've begun to follow it, and I've promised myself to someone for this evening. I'd be very happy if you'd come along."
"I shall dine with Laura, little sister, and I'm ready to allow everything you allow. Laura has been my mistress," Pierre replied. , "Now that's very good. Tell me how you decided this."
"I had to struggle with all the prejudices that lingered in my heart, he said. "Laura and Charles Vautrin, Palmyra and I made two couples. At the table, Laura began her little trickeries, but jealousy was still clawing me too much for me to lose from my view Palmyra's little game. However, our aunt is so beautiful, that, unless I were made of stone, I could hardly remain insensitive to her. Her bold brunette beauty contrasts with the delicate blondness of Palmyra. Her leg was always rubbing against mine, and when she leaned over, I could see her titties jutting out as if to be caressed. Under the table her hand was seeking mine. Once she found it, she drew it to her knees. Then she very cleverly lifted her skirt, and my fingers touched her bare thighs. I tried to fight off the vertigo that was possessing my senses. When I saw Palmyra smile at Charles my blood ran cold. We drank, we said silly things, and Laura made me fondle her bottom. Just as my hand was gliding under her skirt, Charles' was going under
Palmyra's. Hardly had I begun to touch her when Laura came to sit on my knees, imitated by Palmyra who acted the same way with Charles. I couldn't bear anymore, so I paid no more attention to what our companions were doing. Laura dragged me onto the rug, almost under the table, and she offered herself to me. It was a savage fucking, a ferocious one in which our thirsty lips and hungry desires never stopped. At last she murmured, "Enjoy me at your ease, your happiness is mine. Charles is enjoying his sister Palmyra, just as we are.
"I didn't reply, because her flesh was burning my eyes, burning my fingers as I looked at her, as I touched her," Pierre went on. "And then Palmyra came up to me and said, 'Are you angry with me? Charles is my lover just as you were Danielle's.' I kissed her, but with a little reserve. We remained alone with Charles who catechized me as best he could: 'My dear Pierre,' he told me, 'for the moment, since you accept without helping the matter, there's no reason why you can't take part in our loves. You'll have the pleasure of sight which is certainly not to be disdained. I'll make you a proposal. The love that you experience from Palmyra makes such a spectacle difficult for you, I understand. Let us have a rendezvous for tomorrow morning at ten. I shall bring my young sister Lucie and my sister-in-law Marie Rastegue. We shall lunch together and have a little party.'
" T accept,' I replied. And when I saw that beautiful young girl Lucie, who accepted without the slightest frown the conditions posed by her brother, and found myself before that other charming siren Marie, who had even no more false prudery than her friend, I began to understand the delicious rapport which existed between the members of these diverse families, so I said to Charles, T shall be one of you.'
"Charles said to me, 'We are brothers in Palmyra and Lucie, we shall be also in Danielle.' Then he told me your escapade of Sunday and what had happened after that. Danielle, you do much better than I, but I shall catch up with you. Now to go on with this evening that you were speaking about," my brother urged me.
I told him, "With Jacques Nassau, there will be also Eliacin Sizac and Clara Pellen, you and Laura if you come."
"What, Mademoiselle Pellen will be there?"
"She belongs to the group too."
"I must be dreaming, Danielle."
"The dream is reality, so let us profit from it. One question now, little Pierre: who is the gentleman with whom you were yesterday at the opera?"
Pierre said to me, "A superior officer. He was very polite and showed me several famous people in the hall. I pointed you out in my turn, and was proud of our parentage."
"Proud, Pierre?"
"Because you were one of the loveliest in the entire hall."
"And Clara?"
"He noticed her much less than he did you, Mademoiselle Danielle."
Well, Marguerite, in the evening, all six of us found ourselves reunited in the apartment from that famous Sunday, an apartment located in the Trocadero Quarter. I could not see it again without a gentle emotion, that famous dining room where we had such fun with my friends. Where were they and what were they doing at this hour? Perhaps what we would later do. Jacques saw my emotion and squeezed my hand tenderly. I noticed then the fascination which Laura exercised upon all of us. Pierre had eyes only for her, and Eliacan and Clara turned towards her, attracted despite themselves. Only Jacques seemed to escape this attraction, distracted by the little cares that he was heaping upon me.
How did Laura act? If Pierre looked at her, she lowered her eyelids with great artistry, a tiny smile formed at the corner of her lips. She put her foot forward, arched her bosom, played with her skirt and she drew it this way and that with her hand. The inflections of her voice, the squirming of her back or hips, spoke of languor in the slightest of her mannerisms.
But for Eliacin, her eyes shown with ardent fire. She stared at him boldly, seeming to be ready to fling herself into his arms; she undulated her body, she leaned forward in lascivious attitudes, boldly put her hand into his. She coveted Clara as a hen covets its chickens, she put her arm around Clara, she gave her many little pecks and kisses, pursued her with all sorts of compliments, leaning towards her shoulder and sucking the lobe of Clara's ear, tickling her neck with humid kisses.
I shall pass as quickly as possible over this evening, my dear Marguerite, and I would not even speak of it to you at all had it not produced a few little incidents which it is good to tell you about.
Pierre, less solid than all of us, or perhaps more excited, wanted to surpass the other gentlemen with his boldness, his stories, his gossip about women and love. Eliacin, who was observing him, murmured to Laura: "Now is the time to force himself to perform in public. Let him during five minutes gamahuch or lick Danielle's bottom hole in front of us all on that sofa, and he won't hold back any longer." Although this was pronounced in a very low tone, I heard the proposal, and for the sake of form, tried to protest. Eliacin, tricky as a serpent, did not delay but spoke directly to Pierre: "Do you know, Pierre, that Danielle, although she is younger than you, is no less strong than you? She wagers that you don't dare kiss her calf before us all, in return for which she would not fear to put her lips between your thighs here and now!"
"Is that true, Danielle?" my brother asked, his eyes wide with wonder.
"It's so true," Laura replied, breaking in before I could speak, "that I propose to him to take your place on that sofa and to inspire all of you gentlemen to a little more audacity!"
"Oh, so you said that, did you, Danielle? Come here!"
"Listen to me, Pierre," I began, blushing very furiously.
"Oh, so you wager that I wouldn't dare even kiss your calf? Stretch out on that sofa."
"But, Pierre," I protested.
"Lie down on your belly, I'm going to caress your bottom in front of everybody. "Now, don't stir, show it to us."
"Has she got her skirts pulled up enough, ladies and gentlemen? Do you see enough? Is her backside sufficiently developed? Where shall I kiss? On the right cheek, or the left, or in the middle? Should I separate them? There, are a few darling little dark hairs which peep out of their hiding place: is that little niche charming enough? Oh, I shan't kiss her calf, here is my tongue right in the middle of her bottom! Shall I dig it into her? There you are!"
"Bravo, Pierre!" Laura called laughingly, "Continue your little feuilles de roses, we shall give you five minutes for it."
"Five minutes, you're joking. I need an hour!"
"Not at all, I have an idea, and we're going to put it to execution."
Pierre wasn't speaking anymore, but was devouring me with caresses which made me quite forget the annoyance of exhibiting myself thus. Actually, I was really embarrassed more over having to offer my bottom to him hampered by skirts than had I been entirely naked. After five minutes they stopped him.
They had to sermonize him to tear him away from his pleasure, and only Laura had the last word. This scene was the prelude to a series of similar actions which they executed in the following order:
(1) Hardly had I left the sofa when they made me kneel down in front of Laura who pulled up her skirts high in front and begged me to gamahuch her. Our friends sat at the table and contemplated us, while I ran my lips down Laura's thighs, till finally my tongue furrowed into her soft pussy. I had a certain feverish rage wishing to pay her back the suffering she had caused me.
(2) Laura, satisfied with my tender duties, raised me, kissed me gently, led me back to my place, then called Pierre to the sofa. There she took down his trousers and under-garments, and without the slightest hesitation, sucked him off to the enchanted gaze of all.
(3) Eliacin came to succeed Pierre; and Laura didn't spare him in any way, granting him the same delicious Frenching that she had performed on my brother.
(4) Clara drew Eliacan to his climax, sent him back with Laura to the table, made a sign to Pierre who understood her miraculously well, and slipped between the thighs she had bared, and soon brought her to climax with his delicious gamahuching.
(5) I replaced her on the sofa, and Jacques rendered to my thighs, tummy and pussy the honors which Pierre had granted Clara.
(6) Then two women amused themselves together: Clara licked Laura's bottom hole.
(7) Here I had a terrible moment of anguish: they called me again to Jacques, and blushing, closing my eyes so as not to see, I sucked him off.
(8) Eliacin pushed Clara onto the famous sofa and gratified her bottom hole with the most burning feuilles de roses.
Each of these scenes, limited to five minutes, absorbed us with a kind of incredible intoxication. Pierre, after executing this amorous program, would, I knew, never return to the stupidity that he had had in not comprehending the beauties of such an entente cordiale.
Eliacin, who was a first-class artist, amused himself in drawing six scenes from this evening and mailed one to each of us. As it's quite fantastic, I send you mine to show you how delightfully everything is arranged with our friends and how youth is a beautiful thing to be used in such fashion. You can give it back to me when you also give me back Palmyra's letter.
The hour was advancing, the frankest gaiety drove away all constraint. Laura, between a cup of tea and a biscuit, took off her dress and followed Pierre to the sofa. And this was the signal. Eliacin leaned over to Clara, who imitated Laura, removed her dress and, went off with him to a couch. Jacques looked at me. There wasn't any sofa or couch at my disposition, and we had agreed not to leave the room. So the rug suited us marvelously, we chose a corner, and our battle began.
Jacques intoxicated me with a thousand gentle little touches and kisses, and finally I abandoned myself willingly and without fear of his huge prick. Not far from us, Pierre and Laura shared their own ecstasies, Laura directing my brother and teaching him secrets of love that he had not known till that time. Clara, followed by Eliacin, had left her couch and I saw that he was buggering her. This method of proceeding surprised me, so Jacques said to me: "In love, everything is good, everything is permitted. The essential thing is not to abuse the roads one takes in detour, and when one does use them, observe the most scrupulous propriety. This manner of pleasure, my dear Danielle, has something piquant and is not necessarily communal. I being a man, can tell you that those lovely bottom-cheeks one furrows, which you open to grant you passage, which flatten against your belly, are devilishly exciting. If our two friends there were naked, you would admire them in the magnificence of the gymnastics they are performing. Clara wishes to show us how good it is."
Indeed, as he spoke to me, Eliacin stopped and she undressed down to her chemise. Then resuming position under her lover, she dragged her chemise up to her shoulders, and he again, yawning her bottom-cheeks apart, returned his prick to that tender rosette and made her bend and gasp under his resumed attack.
"Doesn't it cause any suffering?" I asked.
"That depends," he said smiling.
But we weren't there to gossip and to chat, so we gave ourselves up to the full constraint of passion.
Ah, my Marguerite, what can I tell you now? The more I taste that divine liqueur, the more thirsty I am for it. Hardly is it finished when I wish that it would begin again. Certainly, there exists upon this earth no happiness comparable to passion. We finally broke up at midnight. All that I shall add to this letter will be only repetitions.
Twice, I've seen the General, who took me to the woods, and was content to slip my hand into his undergarments and to feel his prick. That's his mania, but it's rather inoffensive. Lina kept me all one night, and neither of us were bored with our love duet.
Palmyra is sulking with me, but it won't last. Eliacin, Lionel, Georgette's brother-in-law and Ernest Delron, my future uncle, have put their names down on the list of my suitors. I've promised them the satisfaction of their desires after Laura's marriage. Till then, I reserved myself for you. Leonie Duport, the sister of Palymra and Lucie, kept me for a night.
As for you, my darling, in the midst of all these amorous researches, whose object I may be, although I think only of you, I have made advances towards only one woman: to Adrienne Beausire, towards whom I feel very strong sympathy?
She took me by the neck, kissed me on the eyes, and said to me: "Little one, in this moment, I am sad, morose and tired. I don't have your ardor. So wait a few days and you won't repent your patience."
What can be troubling her? What secret does she have for she certainly has one, it can be seen in her dark eyes, her uneasy, fearful attitudes? Why doesn't she open her heart to our friends? Does one suffer despite these refined delights, protected by splendid fortunes and brilliant social positions? Humanity always pays its tribute of misfortune.
Ah, how much one learns to reflect in the feverish agitation of existence, like unto that which I lead. I become more and more philosophical, yet a girl of my age should not be thus. So come, with a thousand tender caresses awaiting you and you alone. I sign myself
Your Danielle
P.S. I begin to suspect now how it is that my aunt knows about my visits to the General. She followed me the first when I went out alone. Since then, I'm sure she put someone on my trail. We shall amuse ourselves for that spying of hers if I have guessed aright. D.
PUBERTY
June 26, 1922: I wasn't able to go out today. This morning, boys threw stones at us, and one hit me in the forehead. Running back home, I stumbled on the stair and scratched my knee; the blood ran down to my shoe. So, this afternoon, we spent the time gathering flowers in the garden to make garlands and crowns; we put them on our heads, around our necks and waists. I didn't know how to make them, very well, so Deedee gave me hers. We danced, but I don't like that because with two girls it's no fun.
June 27: We made more garlands out of marguerites and crowns from buttercups; the latter are lovely at first, but they soon fade. We put some around the horns of Madame B's goat, and round her neck. She was very pretty that way. She shook her head from time to time to shake off the flowers, but they stayed on. Deedee says it was like a flower festival. But then the rain came down suddenly, and we took refuge under the roof of a shed, but we got soaked just the same. I only hope I get dried off before Mama comes back!
June 28: I went with Deedee to do an errand for her mother. On the wharf, there were boys who jostled and pushed us when we got near them. Deedee fell and cried as if she were six years old. Deedee dosn't like to play with boys because they're too brutal. I don't play with them because I don't know any. Deedee's mother gave us jam on our bread for the errand. But Deedee had to stay home to help her mother. I just haven't any luck at all lately!
June 30: Today, as it's Sunday, I put on my gray taffeta dress my, how chic I was! Deedee and her sister, who is thirteen, thought it was shameless to wear a sleeveless dress that was so short; she asked me why I didn't put on stockings, instead of socks the way boys do. I told her stockings were for ladies or young girls, but I was still too young to wear them; and also that sleeveless, short dresses were much smarter than others. I asked her what was shameless about it. She said to me, "Because Mama says so, one shouldn't show one's leg like that if one is well bred!" I told her it was good for people from the country to wear aprons with pleats and stockings and that in Paris we knew better what was nice to wear than in her stuffy old town of Treport. She went home angry. So what if she thinks I care in the least!
July 3: Deedee came back to play with me. She told me my red woolen dress was very nice. She wanted to try on my big straw hat, but I wouldn't let her. She rolled down her stockings to make socks "the way they do in Paris." She would have liked to take off her apron, but she was afraid of dirtying it, so kept it on. She put a belt over it, which is nicer. We met the boys from the other day. They said to us: "Well, cuties, how about playing with us this time?" Deedee said no. But I was a good sport and we played hop-scotch. The tallest boy, who's named Maurice, changed with me a lot. When he left, Deedee said, "Is he your friend, this Maurice?" What does that mean? She's my good friend too!
July 4: Deedee told me that "a good friend" means something very different. All the girls have a good friend. Her sisters have one. They don't tell their parents because they wouldn't like it. Her sisters would be slapped if their mother knew they go out with the boys. Why? Deedee also has a good friend. He's named Roger, Maurice's pal, but he's much smaller. He's only 12, Maurice is 13%. just fifteen months more than me. A "good friend" kisses you and always gives you something. Madeleine, Deedee's sister, has one and they're kissing all the time, he gives her bonbons and even a necklace. He calls her "my dear." Deedee says she has "a good friend" because she's pretty, and that when she herself becomes "a young girl," she'll have one too. Doesn't she think at our age we're "young girls?" Anyway, I'm much prettier than Madeleine. I too ought to have a "good friend." Besides, I do have one: Maurice. He hasn't kissed me yet, but perhaps he doesn't dare. I'd like to have one who'd do all that, because it would make Deedee and Madeleine furious!
July 5: The boys came back to play with us. Maurice wanted to play hide and seek. Raymond was made to close his eyes, and Maurice and I found a hiding place nobody else could find. He took me in his arms and asked, "Will you be my good friend?" I said yes, he kissed me on the shoulder and said to me, "I love you." Later, we played portraits. I had four forfeits, but he took care of them so I wouldn't be bothered. He's very nice. Deedee is so mad! That will teach her to be nasty about my short dresses!
July 9: Today, we had lots of fun. We were seated on the cliffs, and Maurice put grass down my neck. He took it out and tickled me at the same time. It was very funny. Roger did the same to Deedee. Raymond sulked by himself, then pinched my legs. We laughed till we had tears in our eyes. I hope they come back tomorrow. I got caught because when I got back home, the soup had already been served. If they won't let me go play in the garden tomorrow, it'll be awful!
July 10: I got to go out, what luck! I'm very happy because Maurice told me I was much prettier than Deedee, and he wants to marry me and have lots of babies. I wanted to ask him how babies are born, but I didn't dare because he's a boy. He kissed me on the mouth the way they do in the movies. Then he left because he had to go for a walk with his parents. I was bored all the rest of the time because Deedee kept talking about Roger-now, really, does she think that could possibly interest me? I wanted to tell her what Maurice and I did, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. At least, with Maurice, I can, all I like!
July 12: Now I know how babies are born. Deedee told me. She found out from a woman who works near her house. They already told me that babies are in their mothers' stomachs, but what I could never figure out was how they came out. Well! Deedee triumphantly announced to me that they purposefully open up the mothers' stomachs with a knife. The doctor does it, or a midwife. And it seems that babies stay nine months in there. How can they breathe? By their mother's mouth, no doubt. It must be frightful. I think about it all the time.
July 13: Deedee is a little stupid! She puts on airs as if she knows everything. I've more brains, so I know what she says can't be true. First of all, animals make their little ones all by themselves. Cats, dogs, for instance. Women make their babies in a train, because I've heard Mama say one did when she didn't know I was listening. In the train, they don't cut open their stomachs. I even heard that a woman had a baby in the fields, all by herself, so how did she do it? But all this doesn't explain to me just where they come out. I've an idea, but it's impossible that such a big thing can come out of such a little hole. I'll talk to Deedee about it.
July 14: I didn't have time today because we had dinner earlier than usual so we could see the fireworks. I saw Maurice out of the window with his parents; he stepped back so he could blow me a kiss. I hope I see him tonight . . . .
July 15: It was very cold last night; Mama didn't want me to go see the fireworks. I sulked at my bad luck. Deedee went, and she saw Maurice with his sister, his mother and brother and Raymond C . . . ; they also took Roger along. He couldn't talk to her because Maurice's parents would have told hers. The fireworks were very lovely, she says. Rockets, sunbursts and bouquets-I saw some from my window. Deedee says Maurice is going on vacation till the middle of August. Of all the luck!
July 18: The idiot who lives in the first basement next to our house has a lovely cat who had six kittens and she promised me one. I chose the nicest and strongest. He's reddish-brown with stripes. I'll wait till he's finished nursing and gets stronger.
July 23: I went to see my little kitten. He's darling, with a pink little mouth and a love of a tiny nose. I'll soon have him.
July 25: I have my cat; he's magnificent, very savage and already claws marvelously. I baptized him Citron, but it doesn't seem to matter to him. Deedee doesn't go out, she has a bad cold and her mother doesn't want anyone to come visit. I'll wait till she gets well. Maurice came back to Paris for a few days with his father. I've no luck at all, I'm bored by myself. I spend my days on the cliffs with the goats and the donkey owned by the boarding house on the clock; she's named Chauquette. A very stubborn beast. She obstinately refuses when they want to take her to the stable or the market. She leans back on her hooves, lowers her head, and it takes ages to make her go forwards.
July 30: Maurice will come back tomorrow with his aunt and sister. Oh, how nice, now we can have some fun!
July 30, evening: Deedee goes out a little, but she can't come to play yet. Now that Maurice is coming back, she can go out; if only she could have waited to fall sick till Maurice got back!
July 31: Maurice is back!
August 1: I went for a walk after dinner with Maurice. The weather was lovely. I got permission to go out on condition I didn't go far away and came back when I was called. But we ran out to the sea. I tore my dress and scratched my legs. Maurice and I didn't talk much. But what little he said to me pleased me an awful lot.
He said. "You've ravishing eyes, they're green, changing like the sea." And, a little later, "you walk divinely well. You're slim and supple as a vine." As I laughed, he said to me, "No, no, I assure you I'm not joking. It was Dad who told my uncle that, that morning we met on the wharf. You're the prettiest girl of your age around here. I'm very proud you're my friend."
He kissed me on the mouth. He promised me that, on August 15th, we'll go see the fireworks together. I'm happy. Oh, if I could only see Deedee's face right now as I told her about it!
August 2: Deedee came over to play today. She's still a little pale. Yesterday, her mother went out all day so the house could be cleaned, and Roger took advantage by coming to see her. He kissed her on the mouth and on the neck. He even got bold enough to caress her breasts. He wanted to undress her, but she wouldn't let him. He said to her, she told me, "They're so pretty, let me kiss them." I think she made it all up! First of all, she doesn't have pretty titties. She hasn't got any more than a baby. Who does she take me for, a stupid?
August 3: Maurice, Roger, Deedee and I went to the beach to wade in the sea. Roger cut his foot on a rock. We picked up some lovely pebbles and shells. I found a violet shell which gleams like mica, but only when it's wet.
August 4: This morning, we went up to the cliffs. I walked ahead with Maurice, while Deedee was behind with Raymond and Roger, jostling one another like imbeciles. The tide was coming in and the wind was very strong. It delighted me because my hair was streaming and it felt cool and fresh on my legs inside my dress. Maurice said he saw my panties and Deedee was happy because she thought that annoyed me, but I said to her, "That's no matter, my panties are closed." Maurice, Roger and Raymond broke out laughing, but Deedee couldn't say a word because she wasn't wearing panties at all.
August 7: Yesterday evening, returning from the cliffs, we had lots of fun. We were coming down by the old stone stairways, when the boys had the idea of sliding down the banisters. Naturally, I did as they did, and on the pretext of seeing that I didn't fall, Maurice held me by the hips. In order to slide down, as I'd got astride the double banisters with my legs spread, Maurice put his hands on my knees; then, as I didn't move, slid up my skirt and kissed my thigh, calling me his "dear little wife." He asked me to let him look at me all over, but I didn't want him to. My ears got very red and warm. Deedee thought I didn't see her kiss Roger on the mouth; that's why they took so long joining us.
August 8: It's annoying; this morning, Deedee didn't come and Maurice may not come till nearly afternoon, so I was all alone. I played with Manours, the big dog of the bank. He ran after Pepette, the little bitch who loves me so much. He's a Saint Bernard and she's a fox terrier. Manours raced behind her tail and Pepette tried to escape. But he managed to catch her with his front paws and stuck out his big pink tongue. They called to him, but he didn't pay any heed, he didn't want to come. I wish she hadn't finally escaped, I'd have just loved to see them stick together! Manours' mistress tied him up. He was breathing very hard and a big red thing was sticking out of him.
August 10: Maurice was punished and couldn't come. Roger and Deedee chattered all the time and made me mad. Deedee fell down and turned scarlet with blushing, because Roger saw her pussy. I was the one who told Roger she didn't wear panties that's why he tripped her up.
August ll: All four of us were together today. Roger and Maurice threw Deedee down on the ground and raised her skirt. And I'm telling you, you could see everything! Maurice said she was really a very little girl, and when she said that wasn't so, he explained to us that when a girl is big or a woman, there are hairs on that spot and under the arms. I know now why my parents have them and why I don't.
August 13: Maurice is really vicious. We were in the little lane between two hedges near Father Julien's cottage, when he pulled me tight up against him and asked me if I loved him a lot. I said yes. Then he unbuttoned his pants to let me see his "thing." He tried with all his might to make me touch it. Oh, well, now!
August 14: There's a young man of eighteen or twenty, at least, who comes in a carriage to bathe near us. He's not handsome, but he's much bigger than Maurice, and besides, he's a real man. They say he's given a girl on the wharves a baby. The other day, I was watching him bathe, and he approached me and asked me how old I was. Twelve years! Then he told me he was going to show me something in the house alongside which is under construction. I went in with him, he pushed me against the wall into a corner, and then he did what Maurice did, saying, "Does it please you? Do you know what it is? You're nice, I'd put it in nicely for you." I didn't dare budge. But I felt I was blushing all over. He listened to see if anyone was coming, and when he didn't hear a sound, he took hold of my hand and forced me to touch his "thing." I won't tell that to anybody, not even to Deedee, because if Mama found out, what she wouldn't do to him!
August 15: I was at the festival with Maurice and all the others. We got on the seesaw. I didn't ever want to get off, it was so funny. When I go up high, Fve a frightful fear of falling off. Maurice bought me candy bars. Tonight I'll see the fireworks.
August 16: The fireworks were splendid. Got back home at one in the morning.
August 22: The young man is called Marcel Jacquin. He's eighteen. He's the lover (? ) of a prostitute (? ) who "has honeymoons" on the wharf. Madame Dur-and's maid told me that.
August 23: Marcel came back. He winked at me and I went up to him. "I'd like to take your cherry, you little slut," he chuckled, "but you're too young. It'd make trouble. Go play with your dolls, go on!" What an imbecile he is does he think I like to play with dolls? I went back home annoyed. I read a story about a lover which Deedee lent me. She swiped it from her elder sister.
August 25: Maurice seems stupid to me now that I know Marcel. Anyway, I still play with him, but I think of Marcel all the time. What a wicked look that Marcel has!
August 26: Marcel came back again. I saw him from the top of the cliff, and I went right into the house he'd taken me into the other time. I pretended to play with a balloon. When he saw me, he came to join me laughing: "It pleased you, that other time?" When I didn't answer, he held my hands and lifted up my dress. "Oh, you wear panties, dear!" he said. Then he pulled them down and touched me with his other hand. He even kissed me on the mouth! He kept that up for some time, and I hope he'll come every day. It's so exciting!
September 2: We've returned to Paris, and how bored I am! I only saw Marcel once again, and that from a distance.
September 3: Maurice sent me a card. They're still down there. Deedee didn't even write me, and after I gave her a necklace when I said goodbye!
September 10: How bored I am, oh God, how bored I am!
September 28: I had a quinsy, but I'm completely cured now, and I'm bored as ever. There's a young man at the corner, down there, every evening. When I go to the baker's, he always looks at me.
September 30: Mama told me that little girls aren't always the way I am now. When I get a little older, at the time of becoming a woman, something will happen to me. I'll lose blood, every month, from the place . . . I must tell Mama so she can give me a napkin so I don't stain myself. I mustn't bathe or wash my feet in cold water when I'm that way. It's called the "monthlies," and when one has them, one is "indisposed." I never would have suspected that! So that's why Mama has those little napkins she never lets me use.
October 3: We've been back in school three days now. The mistress seems nice, her name is Mademoiselle Labranche. There are thirty-nine pupils. The others won't be back after the first year where I go to school, and I go right into first, which means the certificate class. I sit beside Pluvier, a very gay, lively blonde. I'm the tallest, and because of that I have to open and close the classroom windows.
October 8: Pluvier is always playing pranks and tries to send the class out every minute. Germaine Dupuis resembles the Gioconda I gave her that nickname. Almost all of us have nicknames. I love to give them. Here are a few: Pluvier, she's "the street Arab;" Werranch, "the big turkey," because she sticks her neck out so much; Lavienne, "the little innocent;" Grandi, "the badly combed;" Brot, "the beanpole." Nimois, who looks like a very clean, smart baby, we call "the model." Renoueire, "the distracted," because she always loses her head, never knows whether she's done well or badly, or what she ought to do. Apart from that, she's a pretty, curly-haired brunette, little and lively. Her big black eyes shine but never seem to show she knows what's going on. They call me
"the flutes" because of my skinny legs. Well, I'd rather have those than hambones like Dupuis.
October ll: Tomorrow's Wednesday, and we get a French composition. I like that day, because I'm the best in the class when it comes to composition.
October 12: Naturally, I starred. I got to make all the corrections; it's unbelievable the stupidities one can find in a piece of schoolwork like that. All afternoon was spent in reading and then correcting. La-vinia had copied the text of somebody's poem. Olga the Russian had mixed springtime with autumn, which is a surprising effect. All the little fools except me, of course copied at least one phrase by some well known author. We amused ourselves finding out from what works they were taken and by whom. What plagiarism! I got a nine out of ten on my composition. Subject: springtime. Tell what you see in springtime. Your impressions, and so on. Conclusion. The mistress complimented me, and so did the pupils, yes, and even the directress of the school. Yes indeed, my dear!
October 17: Drawing day. Another charming day. Nimois and I are the best. We were told to draw the head of a pupil, then to use watercolors. I took the head of Angela Liegel, seen from the back. I was complimented and my design held up as a model. It vexed Nimois to tears, it did!
October 25: We were given a dictation and problems. I had six mistakes in my dictation. It was better than the last time, but compared with Andrea Jacques and Jacqueline Nimois, it was pitiful! Happily, I got back in arithmetic. I had only one wrong out of ten and that was a mistake of operation.
October 26: Wednesday. At last! Again editing compositions. Subject: draw a verbal portrait of someone you know. (Naturally!) Nimois did one about her mother. Completely idiotic. Phrases like this: "My mother is marvelous. She has dazzling teeth and splendid hair. No one is as lovely as my dear little mother" and all the time like that. One doesn't know whether she's fat or slim, blonde, red haired or brunette, nor what age she is, nor what color are her eyes and her skin, nor what her voice and bearing are like. Nothing at all of that.
I did my papa's portrait. It was really very good, without exaggeration, precise and clear and agreeable to read. You didn't find any "his hair is splendid" nonsense in it. I got nine and a half out of ten; as I recall, the next highest was a five. I literally am swimming in pride. How I tossed my head at the others today!
November 3: They're here, I have them! Happily I knew, or otherwise I'd have been scared silly! We'd been moving furniture, and I helped a lot, and then, all of a sudden, while I was pushing the bed, I felt something warm run down my thighs. I ran to the bathroom; that's what it was. I cried out, "Mama, Mama, it's here, I'm indisposed!" Mama gave me one of her napkins and went out to buy more for me this evening. I'm happy I'm a woman now. Maurice can send me all the cards he likes; I should care for a child like him. Now I can get married and have babies!
November 5: Friday. Sad, horrible day, full of humiliation and black clouds. Day of the lesson in French history, at last. I got a six out of ten. Very painfully, I stammered, mixed up dates; I remembered things, all right, but I made a hash of them. It was a day of glory for Fonce, the "molasses" with the long brown hair. Ten out of ten gosh! As she's the worst in drawing and correcting theses, she gave me one of her looks a fine revenge for her. Wait, my beauty, till the next time; I'll have ten too.
November 14: I went to the movies with my aunt.
There were three young men beside me. The little blond next to me was about eighteen. He looked at me all the time. I pretended not to notice. He looked very smart, but . . . I felt a leg graze mine; first, I didn't understand. Then, little by little, as I didn't draw mine away, he clamped my leg between his and his hand slid up to my knee. He caressed me slowly and gently without looking at me. His hand went up under my dress and stayed there . . . in a little warm corner, which likes to be caressed that way. He said to me, "Put your coat over your knees," and I did. All through the movie, he caressed me that way, his hand was trembling a little. I closed my eyes with pleasure. I saw almost nothing of the movie, because my mind was elsewhere. It was a love story, but not so nice as the one I had. I'll go back every Sunday to the movie!
November 16: Monday. Drawing again. Subject: a bunch of violets. Frightful. Success! Mine was again the best, because the others didn't look like anything.
November 24: Wednesday. Editing again. "You know an animal, cat or dog. Describe it. Its character, etc." Nine out of ten very good! Bravo for me!
November 27: There's a crowd of young fellows downstairs whenever I go out to buy bread. They always call things after me when I go by. I had on my beige coat with my maroon velvet hat and swung my hips as much as I could. I looked at them calmly. I'll go out as often as I can-alas, it's not too 'often!
November 28: I met a kind of a foreigner today. Black hair, olive skin, with an uneasy fierce look. When he got me into a corner, he took my arm and put his thin hands on my body. His eyes burn like coals, and he has very white teeth. He doesn't speak French well at all. He's coming this afternoon to the movies where I gave him a date. I told him I'd be there with my aunt, and all he had to do was go in, wait for me, then sit beside me.
Same evening: My Spaniard came to the movies and it happened just as I foresaw. He caressed me much better than the little blond fellow, but then, he's about thirty-five years old. He told me when he saw me shiver and have my eyes closed and my lips dry, "Little lady, I love you madly. I'm really wild about you. You're warm and voluptuous as a cat. I love you, little lady. I'll do all you want, the wildest caresses you don't even know about. I know lots of good things." His eyes shone in the dark. He nervously took my hand and said to me, "See how you'll pay me back. Touch me, I want you to. You're a little (I don't know what the Spanish word meant). " I left the movies with a headache, but I wanted to go for a stroll by myself. When I went to bed, I looked at myself in the mirror all naked, and find myself really beautiful. I've pointed little titties. My tummy's flat and lissome, my legs are long and nervously muscled. My waist is hollow and supple, my hips narrow but well marked out. I'm really nice. I understand why the Spaniard's in love with me. He doesn't please me, but I like to have him caress me and make him "mad for me," like he says!
December I: I drew the conversation in class to a question that's disturbed me for some time. I wanted to know how many in my class were really women already you know, having their monthlies. From my little survey, I concluded that I was much more in advance of all the others, from that viewpoint. Only Werranch, who had hers two months ago, shares this distinction with me, but then she's four months older than I am. So of course everyone asked me questions, as they did Werranch. Lucie Pluvier wanted to know if it hurt when it came; I told her no, but Werrnach said it did. I decided it depends on the individual. Lavinia felt it poured out in floods and that you couldn't go out when it happened. Grandix knew nothing about the whole thing my gracious, what's she been doing, in school since she was seven, not to know? I'm flattered to see there's only one like me in class.
December 4: Werranch tells me her stories since she knows I'm like her. She thinks you can't talk to the "children," for there are certain things they won't understand. She does her nails, wriggles her hips, doesn't play with the little boys, and the others think she's posing. She has a good friend whose name is Georges, seventeen, but she says he's rather timid. They saw each other in the evening; he asked her to sleep with him, and naturally she wouldn't.
Sunday, December 5: We got to the movies late, so neither the little blond nor the Spaniard could sit beside me. Only, behind me, there was a tall, lean, blond fellow, with very gentle blue eyes, a sort of furtive air, but you can't have everything. At first he paid no attention to me. But when he came back to sit down after intermission, he put his head near mine. I felt his warm breath caress the nape of my neck, and I saw his eyes sneak a look. Very prudently, he rubbed me from behind with his knee. His hands started roaming, then clasped my waist, rose up to my titties and squeezed them. I slipped down a bit on my seat so one could see. He continued till the movie ended. I never had so much pleasure. Before leaving, he gave me long, delicious kisses on the neck and on my hair. I shall tell Werranch I know she'll be ever so jealous!
Wednesday, December 8: Decidedly, I'm thinking all the time of Ernest (the fellow at the movies). I told Werranch, and she said it was a fine idea; from now on every Sunday she'd go to the movies with Georges and her mother. But if it's always the same fellow, her mother will start to suspect something, because Werranch isn't really a sly one.
Thursday, December 9: My editing from yesterday was very good; I got a 9% "just so as not to give you a ten," as Madame Labranche said to me. "You do love to write, don't you?"
Werranch asked if I wasn't writing a diary, and I asked her the same question; yes, she is. But I don't know what that dry, ugly and rather stupid girl can put in it. If I concern myself so much with her, it's to forget Ernest. He turns out to be a married man, father of a family, and his wife is pregnant again. He's a fine one to chase after me but men are so disgusting! However, I'd have liked to see him again, to be touched and fondled again by him. I don't really know yes, I'd like to see him again, though of course he can't be my husband since he's already married.
I can't sleep. There's something missing. I need something but what, I don't know. It's like in a dream where the images you see are blurry and you try hard but never can quite make them out. I'd love to be crushed in his arms, hide my head against his neck, feel his mouth on my body. I'd love to have him near me in my bed, for I'm in bed now though I can't fall asleep. There's a magnificent moon which lights things up so I don't need any other light to write by. I feel like getting up, singing or crying, but I can only stay where I am without making any noise so nobody knows I'm not asleep. Sunday, maybe, I'll see him again . . . .
Same night: What time is it? I went back to bed, but I just can't fall asleep. I hear my neighbors kissing, only a door separates us. I hear the mattress creak; then, afterwards, water is running, and there are stifled laughs, the sounds of slippers on the floor. They're two there, and I'm alone with my desires, my dreams, my hopes. A little while ago, my room was full of the red glow of fire in the fireplace. I was warm, stretched out on my bed, my arms folded under my head, my eyes half-closed, and time was passing so slowly as the night ebbed away.
I thought of Ernest, or rather of a man who had his features; I saw his eyes, his lips, his thin neck, his big hands. I saw them stretch out towards me, and unconsciously I drew mine from under my head and started to caress my titties and my tummy. I took pleasure in playing with that which is forbidden, that modest spot one hides and doesn't speak of but in my diary, I call it pussy. And in my drowsy state, these self-applied caresses were made by the man I was thinking of.
I finally fell asleep till an unusual noise wakened me; I still had my hands on my pussy, and I was covered with sweat. I got up because I thought it was snowing; I wanted to see whether it wasn't an illusion. Yes, it was snowing. Sunday, I'll put on my tan coat and my red hat to go to the movies; it's ten minutes to midnight, and now I'm going back to bed for good.
Sunday, December 12: I saw him again. He smiled at me when he sat down near me. The Spaniard, who was there too, looked simply furious. He again made me feel those lovely sensations he'd given me before. Oh, how I'd like to be alone with him, at his mercy, see him bend over me with bright eyes glittering with his desire, his fresh firm mouth brushing, then crushing mine, his big hands stroking my body the way you do to an animal to calm it down. I thought of all that as I watched him while, his eyes fixed on the screen ahead, his teeth gnawing his lower lip, he stroked that spot so sensitive to touching, that spot he hadn't dared till now to caress my pussy! His gestures became more and more stimulating, and when I tightened my thighs, he dug his nails into my skin. I yielded to him. He went back to where he'd been. This sensation of yielding to a stronger force, like that of resisting or refusing something you desire, is a revelation for me, since I never knew it before. I had much more pleasure in refusing, then granting what he wanted from me only caresses, of course than in offering and letting myself be taken without resistance. What a mad day! How I wanted to lie down in bed alone in my room and relive what happened today!
December 14: There's Renouere, the "distracted one," who's always close to me in school. She's sly and rubs up to you like a little cat. She looks at me with her big round eyes and laughs till her brown curls dance. I asked her why she's always around me. "Because you look like a boy. You comb your hair the way they do, your voice is louder than the others; when you argue, you don't cry; when you get bad grades, you don't weep; you almost never speak; you never laugh and you mock everybody, you say things that make people blush."
She's really astonishing. For instance, this morning, in class, I took my inkstand and stuck a big crayon in it, shaped like a cylinder and ending in a cone. The tip of the crayon rose above the stand, which made a little sheath all around it. I called out, "Psst, Werranch, Pluvier, look!" They did and so did the others, of course. Oh, how they wriggled. Madame Labranche said: "What's so amusing? Does Marie-Therese make you laugh like that? What can she tell you that's so amusing?" And it was so funny everybody shrieked, but only Renouere said, in a scared voice, "What is it, huh? What is it?" If only she knew!
December 20: No, decidedly, I have no luck at all. I've another quinsy. Since Saturday, I'm in bed with fever, and my throat and head hurt. But, in spite of it all, I feel good in bed. Outside, it's cold, and the rain lashes the roofs, spatters against my window-pane. It's dark yet it's not even five o'clock. This isn't movie day, so I don't miss much. Here, it's nice, the fire crackles in the fireplace, my bed is nice and warm, I've two books hidden under the covers: The Adventures of Therese Bauchamp and The Scorpion. Bowls of oranges and mimosa fill my room with a Mediterranean perfume which casts a ray of sunlight into my heart as well as a corner of the blue sea. Night gradually shadows all the corners of my room. Only the flames cast their light with their soft song. I'm well, calm, reposed, I feel I'll sleep well.
December 24: This evening, Christmas Eve, is gay everywhere. The shops are lighted. I don't know if it's the reflections of these lights on all the faces, or the inner joy they feel, but everybody's smiling, gay, happy, burst out laughing. Old men are passing by with their arms full of packages, or have their hands under baskets of fresh oysters, or carry flowers or boxes of candy. Bottles of fine wine are emptied. Champagne sparkles, brings joy with its golden flow. You hear cries, laughter, forks tinkling against plates. Children are impatient to see Father Christmas and, most of all, what he'll bring them. This evening, people go visiting, carry on till tomorrow morning. Others, at home with families, will eat at midnight the turkey stuffed with truffles and chestnuts, enjoy cakes, fruits, liqueurs, served up on the finest china, with the best glasses. I shan't go out. I remain with my aunt, seated, till seven o'clock near the window, my face pressed against the cold panes, dripping with steam, watching those who go out. We dined as we do every evening, quietly. I ate my milk soup, then we shared a dozen oysters. So as to celebrate a little, each of us had an �clair. I already know what I'll get tomorrow.
Same evening, later: The noises are rarer now; the streets have become black again, the darker for having been the more lighted. The closed shops are ominous, ugly. The snow falls a little, as if dolling out its flakes. The windows make bright spots in the thick black night. I'm bored. It's a quarter of ten. I'm going to bed.
December 25: Christmas. The snow is falling heavily, covering the roofs with an immaculate mantle of ermine. I got a necklace of pink and white pearls, in a nice case, from Mama. Papa gave me money to buy a hat, a scarf and a box of rice powder. I even got a lipstick, but I shan't use it much or they'll take it away. I also have rouge for my cheeks, but, as I've a very pale complexion and don't put much on, it won't really show. My aunt gave me a little bottle of perfume and a book. The bottle won't be empty very soon, because I don't like it; I prefer natural perfumes. This afternoon, we might go to the movies. I really don't have much desire to, though; I'd rather go tomorrow, it's Sunday.
January I, 1923: Today, it's just as gay. We ate very well. We had a roast lamb with string beans and cakes, and we actually had champagne for lunch, my dear! It's lovely, the sun's out, and we'll go for a walk. I'm still bored, though; I'm always bored.
January 10: But I have more fun when I'm back in school, really. Tomorrow, editing. I haven't shone in history or penmanship; I write bady. "Your letters dance on the lines," says Madame Labranche. If she knew what I care about that, whether they dance or don't! Werranch isn't in class, she has the grippe. Every time she goes off on vacation, she seems to catch it till it's time to go back to school. Madame Labranche is nice enough, once she gets a chance to rest a little and relax her nerves. I didn't know my history lesson very well, but she gave me a seven just the same. I wish it were summer again, for a lovely vacation, on a nice sunny beach, where I could have a lover, be with him, stretch out and do nothing all day long on the beach right beside him, my eyes staring up into the immensity of the sky, caressed by the wind, cradled by the song of the sea . . . it would be nice, but, alas, three times alas, it's only January!
January ll: They sent me to Werranch's to get news about her. She's a little better, but still won't be back to class. Now she puts lipstick on, too. She makes colored chemises with embroidery and lace. That's because of Georges. He passes in front of her windows, and when she knows her parents have gone out for a while, she makes him a sign to come up. She told me she loved him, that she wants to be his wife. That little vicious one wouldn't sleep with him, though, even if she could get away with it. She'd rather have her titties fondled by him and also something else. Only, it seems he's getting impatient. He wants to touch her there; why, he even wanted to kiss her pussy. She told me she wouldn't let him, that it made her angry, but I'm not so sure!
She really didn't want to tell me anything; I had to bribe her to get it out of her. I almost had to say it to her word for word; here's how it went on. I rang her bell, she opened the door, all made up of course she was expecting him in an orange robe, red sandals and even her toenails painted.
"Well, hi, Marita, what' wrong?"
"Yes, It's I. You see, Madame Labranche sent me to find out how you are. Your mother's out?"
"Yes, and she and Papa won't be back till at least eight o'clock. Oh, I'm better, but I don't go out yet. What's new there?"
"Oh nothing. Have you seen Georges?"
"Yes, he came yesterday."
"Ah, and what did he tell you?"
"Oh, nothing, always the same thing."
"Tell me the truth, Rolande, does he kiss nice?"
She blushed and twisted the belt of her robe.
"Not bad. How indiscreet you are!"
"I'm not indiscreet, I'm curious."
Then for at least three minutes, silence; so I resumed without losing courage: "You're dressed like that when he came?"
"Yes, I'm always like this at home."
"Oh. I thought that robe was your mother's. An orange silk robe at thirteen, my dear?"
Now that, I knew, made her furious, for she looked annoyed, and "finally she said, "Georges said I was very pretty like this."
"Yes? He didn't take it off you, to see if you're lovelier when you're naked?"
"Oh, you're...you're awful! He wanted to, but I wouldn't go for it!"
"I'll bet . . . did he kiss you on the mouth?
"Sure."
"And then where."
"On the neck, the hair."
"Uh huh. On your titties."
"Y yes."
"And then on you know what . . . did he kiss you there too, hm?"
"Oh, shut up. He even wanted me to kiss him you know where, but I wouldn't do that for anything.
He forced me. He said to me, 'I beg you, my little Rolande, do it, I'll do it to you so nice if you will.'"
"Why didn't you want to do it? Did it disgust you?"
"N no, but but I'd have b blushed too much. Oh, the idea, doing that to a boy!"
"Now tell me, Rolande, did he put his finger on your pussy, hm?"
"Yes, but that's all. And now since you ask me all those questions, can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything. It doesn't matter for I don't make any mysteries about it. You've the look of a vicious little beast, you have. Why I bet you even play with your pussy when you're alone, don't you? Don't you?"
"N no . . . what are you getting at? I bet you do it, Marita!"
"Sure, and don't you think it shows."
"What shows?"
"Circles under your eyes, the way I have," I told her.
"Well, yes, at night, when I go to sleep. It'd be stupid not to, since it's so nice. Don't you think so?"
Wasn't she a real little stupid, that girl?
So I said to her: "Sure, sure. Listen, Rolande, if you promise me not to repeat it, I'll tell you something." So when she did, I asked her: "Do you have a hot-water bottle in bed?"
When she said yes, I asked her where she put it, and she said at her feet. I laughed and said to her: "I don't. One day, to warm my thighs, I put it between my legs, way up. Mmmmm, was it good! So warm, and when I squeezed my legs together, the heat went up into me. Why, it was well, that's all I'll say. I played with it till I fell asleep. Why, I'd start every night; I never thought I'd care for a silly old hot-water bottle, but you've no idea, Rolande!"
I had her excited now.
"Huh, no fooling, is it really fun?" she gasped.
"You've no idea. I closed my eyes, I ground my teeth. I wanted to bite, scratch, I shuddered with pleasure," I told her.
Roland said dreamily, "I'd love to try it. Who taught you that?"
"Nobody. I tell you, it was when I was trying to warm myself. I'm going now, otherwise I won't get my homework finished. And we've got editing compositions. You know I don't want to miss that. See you soon, hm?"
"Uh huh. Don't tell anybody what I told you about Georges."
"Or you what I told you about the hot-water bottle." Uh huh. 'Bye."
" 'Bye."
I went back to school. We had: "Write a letter to one Of your sick friends." That didn't please me very much because I never write to my friends. I've a horror of it.
Thursday, January 12: I went to a shop to buy some ribbon. When I went back home, I met a cyclist, tall, blond, at least twenty. He looked at me. I was very sure he turned around, so I turned and he was still looking. He made a turn and rode up towards me. "You're cute, you know?" he said. "Yes, I know."
"Would you let me go a ways with you."
"If you like."
"Where are you going now."
"Home."
"You live far from here."
"No."
We walked a few minutes, then I hesitated to turn into my street in his company.
"If you don't want to go with me, we could talk and get to know each other better," he proposed.
"All right."
"What's your name, pretty one."
" Marie-Therese."
"Very nice, and how old are you."
"Huh! I won't tell guess."
"Fifteen?"
"If you say so." (Very flattering, I must say, since I'm not yet thirteen.) "You work."
"No, I go to school."
"I have to leave you now because I do work . . . have you got a boy friend."
"No, not really."
"Well? How about it, hm?" He came close to me, put his arm round my waist. "Say yes, dear. You'll see how nicely I can love you."
I said yes, I gave him a date, he pulled me to kiss and kissed me on the mouth. It's he who taught me that because now I can see that I really didn't know how to kiss on the mouth. He told me, "Don't pull your tongue away." I'll see him again soon. I went home feeling a little happier his name's Robert.
I see him in adoration before me, doing all that pleases me. But it won't be he who drives me wild. I want to belong to a handsome, strong, intelligent man, a good lover, a man whom I'll love. A man who would defend me, watch over me, for whom I'd be everything and he everything to me . . . A man who, without ordering me about like an imbecile, would obtain from me what he wanted. A man who would give me lovely children, whose wife I'd be, not just a doll or a slut. All that is amusing, but at heart I still feel myself very much alone. To think I have to wait years before finding the Prince Charming of my dreams!
January 14: I'll see him this evening Robert. I told my aunt I had to go take homework to Werranch, so I could go out. I can't see him till after six, because that's when he leaves his job. I did my own homework in advance to save time. My aunt said, "Hurry, you know I don't like to see you go out in the street all by yourself." I told her I was finishing my schoolwork and would leave. I hope he'll be there. I'll even go see Werranch, so she can't say I didn't come. I can't wait!
Monday, January 16: I saw Robert day before yesterday. He was waiting for me. "I was afraid you were fooling about our date," he said. I don't know why he used the formal "you" to me then, not after he'd said he wanted me to be his girl. He took my arm, we walked straight ahead. From time to time, he kissed me, talking to me sadly about his life. "I'm alone, I have no parents any more, no wife, no girl friend. I work all day, and at night I go back to my always-lonely room. Today's like yesterday, I'm afraid tomorrow will be the same thing. I can't hope to marry for a few years because I don't have enough money."
He went on: "Life is sad, you know. At least, when I'm with you, I'm happy; you aren't very gay or boisterous, but you fill my life yes, ever since last Thursday. I've one aim now, to await the moment of seeing you. So impatiently, you can guess! You're young, you're nice when one gets to know you. But why do you have such a serious, sad look? Are you always that way without knowing why? That's not right for your age. I wouldn't have thought you were more than thirteen. I'd have said at least fifteen. You can only be a nice little romade to me, whom one can kiss, but that's all. You're nice, one is happy in your company, young as you are. Let me see you from time to time, to talk and walk as we are now, holding your supple little body against mine. I want you, I desire you, and you're only a child. With you, I'm happy but once I leave you, I'll feel all alone again."
He talked that way all the time. When he left me, he gave me a long kiss on the neck, and I offered him my lips. He kissed me gently, with his eyes closed. Getting back on his bike, he looked very sad, and waved me goodbye with his hand. Poor old fellow, he made me think of a stray dog.
Then I went to Werranch and told her about it. She said, "It wasn't very amusing huh?" She just doesn't understand much of anything, really. She tried the trick of the water bottle, but she seemed annoyed, and said, "I beg of you, don't make such a fuss about it, because if you think I like doing things like that, you're wrong!" What a little liar she is! The other time, she wasn't so virtuous. Probably because she hasn't seen Georges lately, she was in a bad mood and sent me away. What an idiot she is!
Yesterday I went to the movies. I purposely sat next to an old lady and in front of a child so I wouldn't be fondled. Only, in front of me, a man sat down and he tickled my knees. I looked at him as if he were mad, then I pinched him. He left me alone. Ernest wasn't there, and I was a little sad when I thought of what Robert had told me.
It was awfully warm in the movies and I got a headache. I went to bed right after dinner, and fell right asleep. This morning, we had drawing. I got eight out of ten and two demerits because I jawed at the drawing teacher. I wanted to change my seat because the column cut off my view of the vase we had to draw. "Where are you going?" Madame Caudet, the drawing teacher, asked me.
"I'm changing seats because I can't see the carafe."
"What carafe?"
"Oh, the vase, which is close enough."
"What's that?"
"I said, which is close enough! I don't want to contradict you."
"Come now, little one, I think you like to poke fun at others, don't you?"
"Why, no, Madame, not at all!"
"I see. Well, I'm going to give you two demerits to teach you to be more tolerant."
Darn it anyhow!
January 17: I saw Robert. Still just as sad, the poor dog. Werranch, who came back to class, hardly spoke to me. Let her sulk! I put a hot-water bottle in my bed, and it was the nicest moment of the whole day. I didn't fall asleep till almost midnight. I heard the neighbors' radio. Every night I hear, "Ladies, gentlemen, it is now, at the Paris Observatory, exactly this time. Good evening, ladies; good evening, gentlemen." I have only my dates with Robert as distraction, and. of course, in my dark room at night under the sheets, my fun. I don't care for anything else, and I don't care for the games my schoolmates play. I read a great deal: "The Scorpion, The Ardent Retreat, The Rondolli Sisters, The Tellier House, Cheri, The Fotter, and so on. I take all these books out of Papa's library. I tore the cover off my grammar so I can put it on the book I'm reading and everybody'll think it's schoolwork. It gives me a kick, for I know they'd never let me read what I do! And to think my aunt buys me every week Suzette's Week! Ugh!
January 18: I saw women smoking in the movies. I wanted to do it too, so I sneaked a cigarette the other day, from Papa's humidor, but I couldn't use it because my aunt would have smelled the odor of tobacco. I've also seen women in nighties, or in pajamas or their undies.
I wish I had things like that too. For nighties, I have to wear white flannelette chemises, and they aren't pretty at all. I'd love sleeveless chemises, made of silk, lace everywhere; undies made of crepe de Chine garnished with satin; silk stockings, step-ins of pink silk with yellow or white lace. Alas I've only a robe made of wool, pumps with green and gray squares, American chemises, short drawers made of cotton. I don't even have a silk robe. My aunt thinks "it wouldn't be pretty or even warm for a child your age." Ugh! I have a nice cotton robe, it's black with mauve stripes, and there's another of jersey wool that's maroon trimmed with beige. I've also a pleated skirt of aquamarine blue with a pullover striped red and beige; but my aunt doesn't want me to wear it now because the pullover doesn't have sleeves and she thinks it's not warm enough.
In class, I wear a black blouse like everybody else, because it's the rule. I don't wear a white collar the way the others do because I think it makes you look like a country peasant. I take off my blouse at eleven-thirty and at four when I leave school because I don't like people to see I'm still in school, it makes me feel so silly. Oh, when will I ever get to wear silk stockings?
January 21: Tomorrow's Sunday. I shan't go to the movie so I can spend the money buying white clogs. My aunt and I may go to the Botanical Gardens or along the boulevards. If we go see the animals, I'd have to pay my way in and I couldn't buy the clogs. I shan't ask Lucie to come play with me anymore; it would please her too much if she didn't know what to do.
January 23: I was furious yesterday. I didn't go to the Bontanical Gardens because my aunt thought it was too cold, so I said no when she suggested we take a walk along the boulevard. I took a book, but I was so mad I couldn't read, and about four o'clock I went to Lucie's to try to end the day better than it had started.
I came back even madder-she'd gone walking with Dupuis, "The Gioconda." 0 wasted day. Anyway, I still have my money that I'd have spent if I'd gone out, so my clogs are closer. Another Sunday without spending money, and I'll have them.
January 30: I succeeded in not going to the movies. They were playing "Graziella." My aunt wanted very much to see it, but I told her I had a headache so I could stay home. I would have liked to see it too, but you can't have everything. Maybe I'll see it when it goes to another movie theater.
January 31, twelve-thirty at night: I just came back from seeing "Graziella." It's very nice, the settings are lovely and the actors too. I said in front of my aunt how sorry I was I hadn't gone yesterday, so she said, "Shall we go tonight?" I said, "I can't, I've bought my clogs this morning and I haven't any allowance left." I don't know if she understood, but she paid for my ticket. So I profited every which way, didn't I! I'll have to try that trick again, but not too soon. To succeed with it, it has to be a movie she wants very much to see. If I was annoyed last Sunday, I've got over it. It was stupid to get into a tizzy the way I did the other day. Now, if it happens again, I'll read a book or write in my diary, but I still don't want to waste another day so completely as I did that one.
February I: At four this afternoon, as I got out of school, Robert was waiting for me. I went back home, because my aunt had come for me as she always does. Hardly had I got home when I said to her, "I have to go buy some tracing paper, pens and notebooks. When I got back, I told her I had to wait a long time because the shop across the street didn't have any pens and I had to go somewhere else. Of course I saw Robert.
He pulled me to him and kissed me. "I was afraid you wouldn't come, dear. I'd have waited for you till this evening, and I'd have left, alone, again sadder than usual," he told me. We walked, arms round each other's waist, chattering away. He's becoming more enterprising. Now he wants me to go to his place.
I went back home sadly. Every time I see him, I'm a bit melancholic. He is himself. But to see him that way, when I leave him, gives me bizarre satisfaction. I'd like to see him wild about me, begging me; and I'd be deaf to his pleas yet flattered. I don't like to make animals suffer, I've a heart of gold; only, with men, it's quite different.
I'd like to see them at my feet, docile, slaves, amusing myself in making them desire me only to refuse when they think they've got me. I'd love to see them weep with rage or despair, and I've got a sort of hatred and sympathy mixed up when I think of them. I'd like to profit only from what they're good at and leave them only their nastiness. I'm not envious or jealous, but I love to feel others are heartbroken and jealous over me.
I'd love to have them pay me court, yet I openly mock those who do. I delight in hearing their lying words, their oaths, yet I don't believe them one little bit. Despite all my flirtations, all the stealthy caresses, all the sentimental walks, I'm sad, tired of all this which leads to nothing. How much better I'd love to have a friend, a real lover, one alone, always the same, who'd be sincere, who wouldn't just say pretty things and fondle what he was permitted to.
Yet I go back to these little episodes of pretended love, and yet it's exactly why I'm always so bored. I have two natures inside of me. One loves noise, crowds, lights, lovely clothes, music, men crowding round me. The other loves solitude, good books, the wind, the song of the sea, friendly animals, the tall leafy trees, the silent presence of a good strong friend, a man who understands me without saying a word, who feels the way I do about things.
February 7: I went to the movies yesterday with my aunt and Lucie Pluvier; I sat beside her, and we looked like two lovers. Lucie had her head on my shoulder and I mused myself watching on her face the expression which my caresses made on her. I put my hand on her throat, which is rather plump, drawing her to me. She half-closed her eyes, whispering, "No, no, stop it, see here now!" but that was just for show. My aunt saw it and said to us, "Act properly now. What will people say?" I drew my arm away from Lucie and told her to put her cloak over her knees. I caressed her legs, without daring to go any higher, for I don't really know her too well. It didn't displease her, for she let her head rest on my shoulder again. When we left the movie, she gave me her arm and called me her lover. If there's a way, I'll go back with her next Sunday.
February 9: Tonight I dreamed I was in a room without doors or windows; rugs, thick carpets, cushions everywhere, and lying near me was Lucie. I undressed her and she let me do it. Then we both were naked, pressed together. She had a fine white skin, blonde hair. I caressed her everywhere; there was a soft golden down at her abdomen; I lingered over it, rubbing my fingertips over the fine hairs. I sucked as a baby would her pink-tipped titties. I thought of that dream all night long. I'm going to ask Lucie if she wants to come this afternoon and play with me. I'll hurry and dress so I can go over to see her.
Same evening: Lucie wasn't home. Her mother said she was at the movies with Germaine Dupuis. No luck at all, so it'll have to be Sunday.
February 10: I asked Lucie if she could come Sunday to the movies with my aunt and me, and she said she'd ask her mother. History, eight out of ten. That's better. Fonce is furious. Werranch is mad at Georges. She thought he'd love her forever! Little Andrea Jacques, who is so reserved, seems to want to begin to talk to me a little more. She said to me today, "Rolande's love affair isn't going so well." Well, well, the sly little puss, she doesn't say much but she thinks a lot. She makes me think of an old concierge who spies through her windows to learn what everybody else is doing. When I got back home, there was a young man on a bike who said to me, "Good day, my pretty one." Fortunately my aunt was ahead of me with Madame Labranche. He wasn't very handsome, either.
February 13: No luck, darn it, no luck at all. Lucie didn't come. I was bored at the movies. Behind me, two young fellows sat, but only one of them seemed to look at me at all. But nothing happened. What a dud Lucie turned out to be. Why didn't she come? Had she forgotten what we did last time? Or didn't it please her as much as I thought? This morning, I didn't see her; maybe she's sick.
February 14: Lucie came to class yesterday afternoon. She wasn't there in the morning because she woke up too late. So as not to be punished, she brought a letter of excuse from her mother saying she had to go to the dentist. Her mother didn't want her to go to the movies twice in the same week, so she stayed home and was bored all day long. We agreed to spend Thursday together at my place. I hope Aunt Marie will go out a little on errands so we can be alone. Hurry up, Thursday!
Three o'clock: Another awfully long day. Andrea Jacques asked me if I was still seeing my lover.
"Which one?" I asked her. She said, "A tall blond fellow on a bike."
"Oh, sure," I told her, "you know, he's not the only one, so you have to describe whom you mean. Yes, I always see him why?" She made a disdainful face, her nose in the air, and walked away. I spited her, all right!
February 15, morning: I have a big fire in the fireplace, and I cleaned up my room. A bouquet of narcissus is reflected in the mirror above the fireplace. I put a multicolored cover on my bed, and my two rag dolls on top. The one with blue silk hair is named Chiffonette, the brunette is Clorinda. I put a little tablecloth on my worktable, and I've prepared it so we can have chocolate at four. I put on my red robe, but I used a little makeup. There's only one chair to sit down, and an armchair from Papa's office, but I think she'd rather sit, as I do, on my bed. I put up on the wall, with four tacks, a picture showing a naked woman on a bearskin, reading by the light of the fire. Hurry, three o'clock so she'll be here!
Same evening: She came, very gay, very nice. The minute she walked in, she had a funny look. My aunt went out just as I'd hoped to buy bread, and since it wasn't yet baked, she had to wait a little. As soon as I heard the door close, I told Lucie, "Dear, have you a bathing suit?"
"No, when I go to the beach, I rent one."
"Listen, I have one let's try it on. If it fits, I'll give it to you," I said.
We both undressed, and when we were both naked and the bathing suits, once tried on, were thrown on the bed, I approached her. Her titties were big, but their nipples so pale you could hardly see them I saw it wasn't at all as in my dream; she had the bare pussy of a little girl, not the least hair or shadow of it over the lips.
I stroked her wriggling body, feeling her belly and her round thighs. I compared my tawny skin with hers, my little but hard titties with her well developed tips. I proudly showed her my curly black triangle over my real woman's pussy. She was chubby and white-skinned, while I was slim and tawny, really exciting.
"You look like a boy," she said to me.
"And you like a big baby. You aren't even formed as a woman ought to be look at that hairless pussy of yours," I teased her. Then we quickly dressed before my aunt came back. She was sly and slinky all the rest of the afternoon, asking me for all sorts of explanations about intimate things. But we didn't go any farther with caresses. I told her to leave the bathing suit and I'd fit it on her the next time we were alone together. She said, "All right" and blushed. It's funny, I'd like to be her lover. I'd like to be in bed with her, nice and tranquil, and do everything I want. I'm sure she'd love me if I were a boy. But that won't ever happen, because I can't ever be alone with her for the whole day. When she left, she kissed me on the mouth she doesn't do it very well and pretended it was just casual, and said, "Bye now, Rita. I'll try to come back next Thursday.
February 17: During singing lesson, Lucie came to sit down next to me. She knows how to whistle very well, while I don't. That was a good pretext to be near me every singing lesson. She put her arm round my waist and, between numbers, whispered naughty things into my ear. She calls me now, always, "My little Rita." Now I know what she wants, I take pleasure in not doing it. I'm absolutely indifferent to the caresses she gives me. This seems to vex her and even enervate her to a certain degree. After the lesson, while the singing teacher was talking with Madame Labranche, she tried to break down my reserve: "Oh, Rita, what lovely hands and nails you've got!" Because I didn't answer, she added, "Why do you shape them into such sharp points?" And I said, "The better to scratch you with, my child." And I drew one nail across her palm, using my little finger, and told her: "You see? If I'd used my forefinger, you'd have really felt it!" But that didn't seem to annoy her quite the contrary. When she went back to her seat after the lesson, she had a satisfied look and turned back to glance at me all the time, so much that Madame Labranche said, "Pluvier, tell me what's so interesting about Marie-Therese?" I almost giggled imagine if she'd told the directress, "It's because Marie-Therese plays with my titties and my pussy." Oh, what a scandal that would be!
February 18: We had a story by Rudyard Kipling in class today, a wolf story. Seems that from then on, everybody talks about wolves. Like, Lavinna, who is enormous, calls me "the lean wolf," and the nickname spread like wildfire. Probably to avenge herself on my calling her "the little innocent." What astonishes me is that she thought that up all by herself. Andrea Jacques, thinking to console me, said she did it out of jealousy. If she knew how little I cared. I think Andrea is quite interested in me.
February 19: The young man from the other time was again sitting behind me, as if by accident, at the movies. He rubbed me a few times, but I don't think he dared to go any further.
He was there with his buddy. When my aunt and I entered the theatre, we ran a gantlet of young fellows, most of whom I know by sight. They're always downstairs or on the street somewhere gossiping together. Some of them make remarks I don't yet understand. In any case, they all look at me. I wish that Lavinia could have been there; she would have seen the "lean wolf" would have been more successful than she in drawing the looks of men. Every time I pass by them they talk to me. But I haven't yet answered them.
February 20: Andrea Jacques came to sit down near me during drawing lesson. We talked about our boy friends. She tells me that hers is named Jean; he is six months older than she is, but he is still a child, of course. Last Thursday, the two of them were alone together in Andrea's garden. They went into the little cottage where they keep the garden tools. Jean made her lie down on the ground, lifted up her clothes, and pulled down her panties. He looked at her and even touched her pussy, and they played like that until evening. I think she would like to play like that with me, because she is becoming so clinging lately. She tells me all her confidences, and yet she hardly knows me. Another success!
She has to talk to somebody, of course, because all this must weigh on her mind. I wouldn't really have thought all this about her, to be honest. They'd make her go to confession, that's for sure, and I'm sure that she'd much rather not!
In the first place, even if she did go to church, she has such a defiant look, full of viciousness. She's really a little hypocrite, so going to church wouldn't help her at all. It would just be a waste. I can't really see the pleasure that she has in playing "touch pussy" with a child of that age. So she calls me thin! She who looks so wise, so innocent, so like a baby! She's very little, almost meager. She piles her ugly dull hair up in a fluffy sweep and she shows a forehead that isn't handsome at all. Her nose is little and round, her eyes have a stupid expression except when she told me of the little amusement she had in the cottage!
I think above all what draws Lucie and Andrea towards me is my tallness and my resemblance to a boy. No, I don't deny that I have some slight resemblance to a boy. My features are almost hard, my voice is rather loud, my hair is cut like a boy's, I am always dressed in a dark outfit of some kind, and I am usually silent unless I have gossip to spread. Punishments mean as little to me as good grades. What gives me a good deal of prestige is when once, when I was sent out of class because I had refused to lift my elbow from the table, I didn't even cry. The mistress of the fourth grade is pregnant. We were trying to estimate how long she had been. I said seven months, and I was the only one who held for that figure. Marise Leduc, who has seen pregnant cows on her grandparents' farm during vacation, says four months. My goodness, she imagines the mistress is going to become like a cow? Anyway, there are a lot of bets about it all.
February 21: We had a writing competition today. I got a 14 out of 20! I stood second highest. I, who was last in this phase of study. Fonce had an eight, and yet she's the best. She cried like a baby. And Madame Lablanc said, "Only Marie-Therese thought of making broad strokes." Everybody started to talk, envious of me, till Madame threatened general punishment. Well, I am going to be promoted, I am sure, among the first. And then I can touch Papa for at least forty sous!
February 22: Andrea and Lucie are always following me and clinging to me. It doesn't bore me, but I let them do what they want. I don't need them. I can have fun all by myself. You know what I mean, diary! Of course, I admit that I like to be with other people better, but I'm always the one who does the caressing. These little vicious minxes let themselves be fondled with the greatest of pleasure, but when they try to give it back to you, that's another thing. They really don't know anything at all, and since I never look for what anybody offers me, it takes ever so long for them to get to the point. I don't feel in a mood to educate these two egotistical cats!
February 23: Lucie came to the house. Since my aunt didn't go out, we weren't able to try on the bathing suit. Lucie wore a dress that generously exposed her titties. I combed her hair, put a little powder on her face, some rouge on her lips, and mascara. My crystal necklace looked very nice on her. The pendant made you look at the white valley between her titties. She said to me: "Look how nice your collar is please lend it to me." I understood what she meant. I said to her: "I'll give it to you." But I got my payment in a different way. I pushed her against the fireplace and I stroked her plump throat. She looked at me between her lowered eyelids and cooed like a dove: "Oh. Rita oh, don't how vicious you are Oh, please don't!" I told her; "You think I'm vicious? Well, then, I could be more than that, if I want to be. Now don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. You weren't so fierce the last time." I sulked, so she became kittenish and rubbed up against me. But I don't know. Something had changed. The spell was broken and we left each other rather coldly.
February 25: Poor Robert waited downstairs outside my house for two hours in a driving rain. He raised imploring and unhappy eyes up toward my window, from which I looked down at him impassively. I know it was wicked on my part, and it made me feel good. I was avenging myself on Lucie. Wait, poor fellow, wait. You'll find others, but you'll regret me, because it is I who have abandoned you.
February 26: The young man at the movies begins to get familiar with me. He is very nice. I'll go to his place on Sunday.
February 27: I had a dream last night which reminds me a little of the one I had when I was with Lucie. Only, this time, I was at the mercy of a brunette, a very beautiful one. We were on a ship, out on the ocean. She was caressing me, and I experienced sensations I'd never had before. She pressed herself against me, her body was warm and supple. It was thrilling! AH of a sudden, without my knowing how, the woman was suddenly replaced by an enormous black dog who licked me between my legs and then mounted me as if I were a bitch. I woke up at the bottom of my bed, under the covers. It was intolerably hot. I squeezed my hot water bottle as tightly as I could between my thighs up against my pussy. I tried to go back to my dream, but I couldn't even fall asleep again. I must have remembered a few passages from a book that I had been able to swipe for a while. It was The Memoirs of X or maybe it was Nights of Excess. If only my aunt knew that I read that book!
I asked myself why I always think of these things and take so much pleasure from them. It almost haunts me. But other people are like me, which consoles me a little. Why do all little girls have this habit of touching themselves where their pussy is? I thought myself a phenomenon because I did it. I guess maybe that's ego.
February 28: Mardi Gras. And we don't even have a vacation!
There are imbeciles who stay away from school to go to all the fairs and things, but we had our school work as usual. What made me mad was that Andrea didn't come. It seems that she went disguised as Columbine. One of the girls saw her in the street when she came back after lunch to school. Lucie was there in school. Her face had broken out I don't know what it was. This evening, Auntie says we will have crepes suzettes in honor of the occasion.
March I: I didn't tell Lucie to come. I was so mad at her last Thusday. I did my editing yesterday, and then I drew. The day passed rather quickly. I am beginning to be disgusted with all the solitude, even if I do impose it on myself. The first hours I thought to myself, "Suppose she comes anyway." I wanted her to, but in the evening I said to myself, "Suppose she doesn't come." She didn't come. So much for that.
March 6: The young man from the movie was there, but Marcel was near me. It's been a long time since he came. We made up again. It seems to me that he takes at least as much pleasure as I do in the caresses he gives me. His buddy, Big Georges, was behind, and another whose name I don't know yet. All three of them fondled and fingered me. I had a delightful time. That made three at the same time. I thought to myself in my bed, what would happen if I were alone with all three of them in bed. It was like a dream that I was creating to my own will. I please myself by thinking like that every night, and I go to sleep late. Sometimes I dream, so I'm too not rested the next day. My face looks bad, my cheeks are hollow, my eyes shine and they have circles under them. It makes my eyes look enormous they're already quite large ordinarly. Madame Labranche has already asked me several times if I am sick. It is true that when there are others to compare with me, there is a difference. "It's all that black that gives you that tint," Madame Gautrau, the singing teacher told me. "Why don't you put on a while collar, like your companions?"
"She never does like the others, so what can you do?" Madame Labranche replied.
I don't know. I just don't like white collars. When girls wear them, it looks like having heads on a napkin. Especially Lavinia, who resembles a sheep's head, with her stupid eyes and her fat face!
March 15: Editing, I got a nine out of ten. I was very cold towards Werranch without knowing why. The boy's school was on the other side, and we see them through the wall at recess. Renouere amuses herself like a mad little fool. Werranch, Pluvier and I always stay at the back of the court near where the boys are, and we call jokes over to them. But the teachers were starting to prowl around that way and the gymnasium teacher makes us do exercises. Of course, the nasty little boys on the other side stop what they're doing to peak through the cracks in the wall, and watch us show off our panties when we do our exercises. Werranch has long panties and they are embroidered with lace, and they are perfectly frightful. But Renouers's are ravishing; they are very short, made of white linen, with a flounce of lace. They are awfully short in the leg, and sometimes you can see her pussy, which she is trying to hide. Nimois wears panties as bulky as a baby's; Lavinia wears open panties. With her legs and her big behind, you can imagine what a sight that is! Then she wears cotton stockings and holds them up with elastic garters that are red you see a red streak between her stockings and her panties. How ugly it is! I wear short jersey panties, something like a bathing suit.
March 16: Today I got a ten in gymnasium. It appears that the best grades are going to win us a sort of penant at the end of the term. I will be chosen to represent my school with Nimois (that's the daughter of a professor), Werranch, Pluvier, Brot, and somebody else. We don't know yet who, but we have to have eight. The last two won't be easy to find.
March 17: In history I got a ten out of ten. Bravo! That's enough to make Fonce pout, and that's my revenge. Oh, am I bored? Why?
March 16: This afternoon at four o'clock, since we were making a frightful noise, Madame Labranche told us to put ourselves into a silent Coventry. Naturally, I kept quiet, so I would not be kept after school, since Liegel who sits behind me whispered several times to ask if she could play with me. Since we weren't suppose to speak, I didn't reply to her, but she kept on insisting, nudging me with her knuckles, so I said to her furiously, "You are going to make me mad!" She uttered an indignant "Oh!" and then she blabbered like a stupid little dummy that she is, "Madame, Marie-therese said something nasty to me." So Madame Labranche naturally wanted to know what it was. Then she said to me: "Very well, you will stay here till six o'clock." I said, "Madame, Liegel nudged me and pulled me and wanted to talk to me, and when I wouldn't talk to her, she went ahead and tore my sleeve."
"Well, then Liegel will also stay until six o'clock. That wasn't any reason for you to be nasty to her." All the others were very happy to hear what I said and to see me so angry. This was my first punishment. Werranch marched by me with a superior little air, the complete idiot that she is.
March 19: This morning, I did my homework from last night. At the movies, I found Marcel with his tfoo buddies. The same scene as before. George is more brutal than Marcel, and as I like gentleness and brutality alike, the two of them take very good care of me. They kiss me and fondle me, both of them. I don't really have a preference between them.
March 26: Gymnasium again. Another showing of panties and bare thighs. Werranch told Mademoiselle Emilienne that she couldn't do gymnasium today, and then she blushed. I know. She is having her monthly.
March 22: As today was the first day of spring, we we had again in our writing and editing the theme of Spring. I did a new essay, because although my first one was very good, there wasn't really any reason for a second one not to be just as good. The first time, I wrote about spring and the woods; this time, on the beach.
March 28: I don't really feel like working. I'm bored and uneasy. My aunt doesn't feel very well, and when I come back from school, I'll have to wash the dishes and do a lot of housework, too. In the evening, I have to do same for dinner. Dishes. I didn't go to the movies on Sunday because my aunt already had a cold. I'm so bored. There are times when I sit for long moments without doing anything, my head utterly empty of ideas. I wish I could be sick, in a nice warm bed. They'd fuss over me, I'm the one who takes care of them. Lucie asked me to come play next Thursday. I refused, saying that my aunt's sickness obliged me to turn everybody down on a visit. I've suddenly become savage and sad and shut up inside myself without knowing why. In the house, I sing tunes I improvise, sad tunes which are like the poor tunes of my heart. I don't know really what's boring me, it's just that my character is changing. I'm becoming melancholy, just as one becomes a brunette or a blonde with nature. When will those lovely days come when I will burst with joy like an August sun?
March 26: I'm still as bitter as ever. Life is colorless and useless. You live without knowing why. Tomorrow will be like today. My compositions are rather dismal this month. Twenty in gymnasium, nineteen and a half in editing, eighteen in arithmetic, fifteen in French, and twelve in history. All my compositions seem to get twenty. If it weren't for my boredom, I would probably be the first in school. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a vacation. But I know what I'd do.
April 4: Lucie Pluvier told me something in confidence yesterday. In the past two days she has met a young man. Both of them go to the movies, and that little pixie tells her mother she is going with me and my aunt. And her mother is stupid enough to believe her, and think that we would pay for her movies every Sunday. I don't care, but she shouldn't involve me in her little tricks. The first time I was surprised by her unusual frankness, but of course then I understood why she did it; I was to be her alibi. She is playing around with a young man of seventeen, and she she isn't even formed as a woman!
April 8: The sewing mistress insists I am making astonishing progress. I knew nothing about sewing when I started with her, but since then I have become the best seamstress in the class. My work will be displayed at the end of the year. They are always talking about prizes in this end-of-the-year business.
April 10: I always go to the movies, but I take much less pleasure in being fondled and held. It does not please me, and I am still bored. I feel as if I have the soul of a beast in a cage. I am always standing up and turning around and coming and going, and although I try to keep it to myself, the others are saying that the "lean wolf becomes famished." Lucie Pluvier shrieks, "Look, ladies and gentlemen, don't approach her." And she climbs on the table with a ruler in her hands, as if I were an animal she was training. Madame Labranche had gone out, but just the same Lucie got two demerits from the mistress of the next class, who heard the infernal racket. Good. I wish she had got double!
Wednesday, April 12: I am beginning to get tired. The tasks are longer, more difficult and more numerous. We have a preparatory examination for the certificate of primary studies every month now. Only those who have passed at least two examinations the last two will be allowed to try for the finals.
April 13: I am working very hard so that I can succeed. My history and my singing annoy me the most. I'm not doing very well at solfeggio, and still less in history. I worked all day Thursday and didn't rest until Sunday. Yesterday afternoon Madame La-blanche said, "Nimois will doubtless be successful, and Deblais also (those are the two girls who always take first place in class just about every month). Among the others, Werranch, Pluvier if she is less reckless, and Fonce have good chances. Marie-Therese, if she wishes, may be received as a successful scholar, but she had better take pains with her history because only that would keep her out." So I have conscientiously knuckled down to the damned history. Fonce learns it so easily, darn her eyes! Besides, the teacher in history is much more demanding than in narration, in gymnasium or in drawing. The boys from the corner know where my window is. They whistle at me, but I don't have the time to notice them, not now. There is a tall one who isn't bad, though. Darn it! He is betrothed already.
April 18: For Easter, Papa sent me a big chocolate shell filled with chocolate eggs that had cordials in them, as well as little fish shaped out of chocolate. My aunt gave me a toy hen. Grandmother gave me a fetish doll with a big belly, round eyes, and arms outstretched with a great air of fatality and powerfulness. All this was out of chocolate, too. But I'll bet you my aunt will eat everything up.
April 21: The young man that I don't find bad is named Pierre, I think, but I'm not sure. He looks insistently when I pass near him. You'd say he has a crush on me. Just the same, he has a fianc�e, though he doesn't seem to act like it. The trouble is, he is the best looking of the whole bunch there!
Saturday, April 22: I've had enough of this. I love school all right, but not when I have to work so much!
"Pierre" spoke to me. He said, "Good morning, my dear. Why do you always run away? You are frightened of me?" I turned around and called to him "Not at all." He laughed, and when I tried to turn back, he stood in my way. I struggled, I clenched my teeth, and he finished by letting me go. I was both mad and happy at the same time. He is much bigger than I am. He must be at least twenty-five.
Sunday evening, April 23: Marcel again was near me, and Georges close behind at the movies. They really have good taste for it! The hero in the movie was very good, although I don't remember his name. I would like to be the wife of a man as handsome as he is. I can see myself in his partner's place, our arms and legs wound close together, mouth to mouth, he would caress me so gently, rubbing his cock against my itching pussy. He is tall, strong, beautifully muscled. And yet he doesn't look to me to be skillful at all when it comes to love-making. Women know!
April 26: Bravo! Hip, hip, hurrah! I have been received in the first examination. Now just two more, and then we're done!
April 27: Papa comes back tomorrow from a trip. I hope he brings me something. "Pierre" still talks to me the same way.
April 28: Again history, doggone it, Madame La-blanche is very nice toward those who have been "received." In that list we find Werranch, Pluvier, Renouere (yes!) Deblois, Nimois, Liegel, Brie, Brot, Fonce, Ogla the Russian, Andrea, Larpin and me. That's about half the class. As far as I am concerned, they could have dispensed with history lessons today. I am bored. Papa gave me five francs for my good marks.
April 29: A funny affair happened to me. I was out walking when I met Pierre with one of his buddies. They asked whether I wanted to go with them to the city hall. I went with them. We walked in the public garden, which is deserted at that hour. Once we had come to the corner which makes a kind of grotto, they both held me, Pierre, seated on a rock, pulled me onto his knees, helped by the other fellow. He pulled off my panties and fingered my pussy. He even put his finger all the way up in. I scratched. I bit, with no results. They did all they wanted to. "How tight you are there, baby," Pierre said to me.
I don't know or rather I know only too well what would have happened if people hadn't come there and disturbed them. I ran away, but I left my panties with them!
Monday, May I: This is the month of Marie, the loveliest month, etcetera. Yes, it is. It's the month of my birth. I shall be thirteen on the thirtieth. It's the month that precedes that of the certificate. It's almost the time for vacation. The sun is timidly getting warmer. The first signs of summer are making their appearance.
Finally, the secret of my soul. If I get my certificate, we shall go to R--. It seems that this is an immense beach where the sky is always blue, and the water silvery. It is warm, the sand is fine, palm trees surround it with their dark foliage. I can swim, go bike riding, run in the woods, and we may stay there three months. What luck! How happy I am! Now I understand that I shall have my certificate.
No date: The sea the woods the sun! My aunt made me two lovely cretonne dresses, the printed style. One has big flowers on it. The bodice is adjusted, the short skirt is tucked in at the waist, it doesn't have sleeves, and the d�colletage is round. It is just darling! The other one has a white background with little bouquets of multi-colored flowers, and it's quite straight and narrow. A group of little folds opens over the left breasts, three little buttons are above it.
A narrow red leather belt fits around the waist. It's terrific! I have a little hat of cream-colored straw to go with it. Oh, what conquests I am going to make down there. What I want, though, is a red woolen bathing suit. Red shows off my figure and my flesh just delightfully!
May 4: I bought my bathing suit. My aunt was along. It is red wool and bordered with white. I also bought, to put around it, a white belt and a white bathing cap. I'll really be sensational!
May 13: I don't have time any more to write in my diary. I have so much work because my certificate examination is coming near, and it will be at the end of the month. I saw Pierre again. He was with his fianc�e. Fortunately he didn't see me. I came out on the other side. Since the famous day of the public garden, I avoid him and his friends as much as possible.
I am happy, but at the same time I am bored. I am bored to think that there are so many days rolling away before we leave. I have seen white canvas shoes that pleased me an awful lot, but because they have thick heels, Papa will not buy them for me. I am going to save money and buy some more white clogs.
May 15: I dreamed of R -, which I don't even know. I thought about it so much that even at night my mind is occupied with it. I found myself in a marvelous country. The sand, the sky, the sea, the bare, sun-tanned skins everything was covered with gold. The sun was dazzling. I was the loveliest one there. The men were all madly in love with me, and I had fun at the water's edge by singing with them. Then all of a sudden a tall black man with a terrible look tried to steal me. I ran away and plunged into the water. The man was so close to me the water was heavy and seemed to push me back toward him.
I was suffering martyrdom in seeing that gigantic, terrifying man come closer and closer to me, yet I couldn't go any faster. My legs weighed so heavily, my strength was leaving me, and that heavy water held me down pitilessly, as if to deliver me to him who was pursuing me and whom I feared as an executioner.
What anguish, what suffering to be in that luminous water shining with the sun. The superhuman effort I made to save myself woke me up. I found myself twisted between my covers, aching and paralyzed. And even though I was awake, that formidable man still pursued me. I feel I am going to go back to sleep I hope I can dream about him again!
May 16: I am making progress in history, but oh, how hard it is. Those damned dates are killing me! I have made a list of them with all the important facts pertaining to them, and I will memorize them. If I forget just one at the certificate examination, I'm done for. Lucie doesn't speak to me much, nor does Werranch. All of us are working so hard these days. Since I have thought about the beach, I don't care about the movies any more. And I'm saving money for my clothes. Fonce is very nervous, she weeps for nothing at the least sign. I have a headache. I am bored.
May 18: Next Tuesday the second preparatory examination for the certificate. Oh, what work, but if only I pass. This singing, this solfeggio I have to learn with a pupil! It's Andrea Jacques who is teaching me. First it was Pluvier, but there wasn't any way to study with her, because all she did was tell me about her lovers. So I asked Andrea, because she's awfully good at solfeggio. Pluvier is lucky that she can think about her love affairs; no sooner do I get to bed than I fall asleep I'm so tired!
No date: I was refused. Madame Labranche said to me, "You are refused, Marie-Therese! That's what happens when you rest on your laurels. The next time you must succeed." Among the other ones who were refused, less numerous this time, I was the only one who didn't cry. When school was over, Madame Labranche spoke to my aunt. I heard her saying, "She's a very sensitive child who keeps to herself, with a great deal of character; she is the only one who seems indifferent; but you'll see. She will succeed the next time." My aunt thanked her and we went back home. Anyway, I lost a hundred sous. Papa didn't give them to me as a kind of punishment.
May 31: Yesterday was my birthday. Fortunately, at our home, they don't attach much importance to these preparatory examinations. Papa gave me twenty-five francs. My aunt gave me a bag of serpent-gray and a hat that she made for me, a little casque that's reversible. Gray inside, black outside. It's a lovely hat.
I changed my seat in class. I am on the "scornful" side of the "refused." The others are delighted what little fools they are!
When they like you, they tell all their little stories, ask your advice, and ask favors of you, then without knowing why, set themselves against you. Little lying, hypocritical, vicious beasts! A girl is a cowardly, stupid, wicked thing. Fortunately for me, I'm not like that. When I shall be received, I shan't talk to those idiots any more. The Directress is very nice. She came to class, and seeing I wasn't in my usual place, seemed astonished: "You were refused, Marie-Therese? How did that happen? Come go back to the side of the good students. Sit near Werranch."
"I thank you very much, Madame, but I like much better to be where I am. I can work without being disturbed by gossip, and I can see more clearly." So I stayed where I was. Wereanch was very vexed and very put out with me. You can imagine, my disdaining her pleasant company! Sit next to her? So she could copy from me? No thanks!
Same evening: I went by that whole band, and Pierre was there. They laughed when they saw me. I went on my way coldly, without paying the least attention to them. They talked about what happened in the garden, and as a proof, Pierre must have shown them my panties. I stayed a long time at the window of Papa's study. There, at least, I am very tranquil.
The sky was filled with stars, immense and profound as an ocean. Light clouds were moving quickly. I thought of the day, so far, and yet so near, at the same time, when I could contemplate such a lovely spectacle. Now I don't have a friend. These fondlings and feelings-up don't tempt me any more. I desire something else. I want to be loved. To know that one thinks of me even though I'm not there; one comes to see me, to talk to me, to be near me, to prefer me to others. I'm only thirteen, and yet, even though I may not be worthy of that love I await, I want to begin to prepare myself for it. I don't want these flirtations in the movies or the corners of the streets any more. I want idylls which will last just time enough to choose the best of them. I want to make conquests and to make men jealous. I detest all women, now. I want, as much as possible, to make them envious of me, to make them seek to imitate me, to take their lovers from them. I feel myself becoming quite another person. Soon vacation, soon the beach and the sun, soon that pure sky, soon success, love and pleasure! I'm still very, very young, but I'm not afraid of anything. There are many people much older than I who have less success. Another month. In another month perhaps these dreams will be realized just a month.
June 6: Finally, the month of certificate, in twenty-four days. I have been received in the May examinations. Another five francs I won. I kept my seat among the "refused" to show the others my indifference and disdain for all these little trickeries of theirs. I could work better, more seriously, when I didn't hear the whispers of the others and all their little stories. If only I am received! Otherwise, what will I do? And
R-awaits me as a reward. I want to be received and when I want something -
June 10: How long the time is, how many days before our departure! It's superb weather. The birds are singing in the porch, people raise their heads to see them send forth their serenades as a hymn to the sun. The certificate approaches, menacing, but my attention isn't always there. How many times a day we are recalled to order! I am studying hard on history and solfeggio. I am more afraid of the oral tests than the written ones, because one doesn't have time to think. All of us are distracted by the sun, by the shadow of the trees from the court dancing on the walls, but nobody gossips or chats any more. We hear the scratching of pens on paper, the heavy sound of a book setting down, and from time to time the voice of Madame Labranche tearing a pupil from her reverie. My God, what I wouldn't give to have it over!
June 12: How sad I am! The weather is splendid, and this month is interminable, without ending. The certificate still comes closer and is more terrifying. My aunt is certain that I won't be received. Papa doesn't think so either. I went to the woods at Vin-cennes. It's charming.. I thought melancholically of the time I was wasting being here when I could have been at R--. The trees, the grass, the soft light was something exquisite. But down there I'll have also the woods, the sea, the beautiful weather and the pure air, also the mornings and all day to amuse myself. No more work, no more lessons or tasks, and especially no more discipline or surveillance.
I have a profound horror of discipline. To obey, not to be able to act as you please according to your desire, to be forced always to speak: if I do this, I'll be caught; if I go there someone will see me and I'll be scolded; and often not even to know why they forbid you to do certain things. It's all nonsense! It's funny, I never have so much of a desire to do something as when I am forbidden to do it. To forbid me to read a book, or to hide it so I can't get it is the infallible way of giving me at once a mad desire to know, "What can be inside that book that's so strange?" Anything forbidden has a particular attraction for me, and often I wouldn't have even considered it otherwise. I'm very curious. If you forbid me to know something, no matter what it is, you can be sure I'll do all I can to find out what it is. Finally, at
R-I'll be free. Free to run all day like a wild young beast, drunk with freedom, eager to know a little of this life that your parents hide from you and try to kill with silly tasks at school. To take the simple joys life offers you now what can be wrong with that?
To flirt, to sing with men, is that wrong? It's one of the most agreeable distractions I know, but it's refused. When I want to distract myself that way, I have to hide and leave my parents in their holy ignorance. If I continue to think of my vacations instead of occupying myself with my work, I'll really be stymied at the end of the month. I still have problems to do, and I'm writing, I'm writing.
June 18: I found one of those types at the movies. He wanted me to give him a date when I could go walking with him.
"Is it your mother who comes with you on Sundays?"
"No, it's my aunt."
Can't you get away from her? We could go somewhere and have more fun than in the movies?"
"No, that doesn't interest me," I told him. "You don't happen to think that just because we see each other casually at the movies, it's going to last indefinitely?"
"Don't I please you?" he said to me, seeming very disconcerted all of a sudden. "No," I told him calmly. "Aren't I nice with you?"
"Yes, but what am I supposed to do about that? If you'd been stupid, I could have had you chased away. But it's enough, since I see you enough, and that's all."
"How wicked you are! Then I shan't see you again, ever, even at the movies?"
"I tell you no. And when I say no, I mean no. Don't insist. I like changes, you know."
"Oh, that's not nice," he said. Oh, you like changes? And you think I shall be quickly replaced? I suppose there are many who would like to see you only at the movies?"
"There are more than you think, my old fellow, so don't harp on the subject. A long time ago you were replaced. Goodbye. Have fun and don't come to see me, for if you find me you might be capable of thinking yourself in love with me!" On those conquering words I went away laughing. I don't give a damn what I want to do, I only know I have to do something. If only I could use my claws, make an impression on life, not have to put up with these grinning idiots in school!
June 20: Great emotion! Each day seems more terrible, more filled with uncertainty and ambush. In four more days, the certificate. We don't really work, so to speak, in class. So that we don't get too distracted, Madame Labranche makes us read stories. It's really funny when Lavinia reads. She says such silly things we have to hold our tummies, and we almost fall off our seats laughing. I'm reviewing my history dates. I know a little about solfeggio now. In four days, the written, then the oral a little later, after the elimination tests are over. In four days -
No date: Victory! Victory! Victory! I have been received in writing. My aunt said to me, "You still have the orals, so don't count your chickens before they're hatched. Well, you're lucky. It wasn't too difficult." Oh, but she was wrong. We shall pass to the oral tomorrow, but I'm not too scared now, because my first success encourages me.
No date: I've been received in the oral! Success! Papa sent me a wire: "Very happy. Bravo. Letter follows." I received two hundred francs and he promised me a watch. Wow! We shall leave for Rat the beginning of next month. What joy, what luck, how happy I am!
July I: We are in the train taking us to R--. I took along my notebook and told my aunt I wanted to finish one little task. She didn't answer maybe she didn't even understand what I said. My brother, his nose crushed against the pane, was looking out at the countryside. Now that we're on vacation, he's going to be around me. During the months of class, I see him only in the evening because I leave for school while he's still sleeping. On Thursday and Sunday, he goes out with Grandmother. He's five years younger than I am. He's brutal, noisy, breaks everything, self-willed, very intelligent for his age. His name is Michel. On the day we were received, my aunt invited Lucie Pluvier and Valentine Brot to come and have tea with us. We had a lot of fun, but very discretely, talking about our companions in class whom we were going to leave, the others going to another school to prepare for advanced work. I left Lucie without any regrets; it seems to me that she was a little disappointed when she saw my reactions. There are still other pupils who will stay until the prizes are awarded. They'll leave mine with the concierge at school. I'll get them when I come back from vacation.
The weather is lovely, and we are in the country. You begin to see Flemish cows, rare horses, sturdy and robust. The telegraph poles run one after the other, and it seems you can play a game watching them and trying to stop them. The meadows, with the streams cutting through them, turn on every side of us like big records on a record-player. The train sends us to sleep with its regular and rhythmic chant over the wheels. Opposite my aunt, an old gentleman is reading his newspaper in his corner, his head leaning back against the wooden panel. Auntie is yawning already. Michel is looking under the seat to see if he can find lost pennies, but I have slipped down in my seat and pulled my knees up in front of my face to make a kind of support so that I can write without leaning over. It isn't elegant or comfortable, but it works.
Same day: We are approaching R--. The trees are more numerous, the animals more rare. You can see little bridges over tiny streams, hidden under the somber verdure of the woods. You see birds, big as pigeons, which look like ravens, perching on the highest branches. The old gentleman has left and we are alone. I hope it lasts. We'll soon be at R---.
My heart is beating faster. I want to see that beach that I've dreamed of for a whole month. I'm sitting at the window. The wind is vigorous, but that is because of the speed of the train. I'm closing my book because I have to start gathering my packages together. My brother is stretched out on the seat and seems to have gone to sleep.
July 8: We have a charming villa. Our arrival here led to many agreeable surprises. When we went to the town in a hired carriage with a big orange parasol over us, we found ourselves in the woods. Just as the town is gay and noisy, so the "park," as they call it, is calm and silent. The stiffness of the tree-trunks, the pine needles on the ground, give a somber background to these clear villas bursting out with vivid colors at their shutters and doors which are painted in red, orange or green. Their names are like a friendly welcome to passers-by. The little gardens are filled with roses and thick plants, a few mimosas, a few orange trees, and everywhere you can see the palm trees stretching out their branches like protecting arms to shield us from the sun.
Our villa is preceded by a little garden. The house is only one floor, really, and the shutters, the roof, and the door are painted red. Behind the house, the garden continues in a kind of wild terrain where there are wild flowers and there are pine trees. It's dark and humid in that part of the garden, and very mysterious and delightful. There are two big rooms, two smaller ones, and the kitchen. There aren't any windows in the smallest room, but there's a narrow rectangle near the ceiling which lets in a little light. The others rooms are all very airy and very light. I am very happy here.
July 10: I'm so astonished and dazzled by everything I see that I can't think of anything else. What surrounds me, absorbs me entirely. I'm tired from the trip and from moving in. ,We put the dining room and auntie's room into the two rooms at the front section of the villa. It took a little doing. She will sleep with my little brother. My room looks out on the little park, as well as on the kitchen. I cleaned Papa's bike, which I am to use. I don't knows how to get on, but I know I'll learn all by myself.
Michel and I stayed in the garden, exploring all the corners. The neighbors have an apple tree whose branches are even taller than our own little "park." That's nice, we can eat apples. When you hear a train go by, the noise is almost terrifying until you get used to it.
There's a dog which comes to see us at meal time. He's big, old, but very gentle, black and white. He belongs to an old woman who lives in the street behind us. I'd love to run through the woods like a young animal. I'd like to go to the beach, but Auntie doesn't want to go there yet. So I've stacked all my books and notebooks. I'll put them away with the firm intention of not working here at all. I've tried on my bathing suit. It's stunning! There's a bike shop quite near us, and lots of young fellows go there. Since the villa is on their pathway, I am obliged to see them. I know how to get on a bicycle. I got on and, holding on to a rail in the garden, I pushed forward on the pedals. It went very well. I zigzagged a bit, but finally I went forward. I went forward so well that I asked myself in anguish how I was going to stop, because the brakes didn't work. I had to wait until the speed had slowed down and then bang into a wall. I came back the same way, rather satisfied with myself. The dog finds a home in the basement, and eats with us. His mistress says that he does that during the "season" as he can get better meals from the bathers. He's very intelligent, and I have adopted him during our stay. I'm going to the beach today with Michel.
Everything here is perfect. The butter, the milk, the eggs are exquisite. For me, this has a lot of importance because this is my principal greediness. Fve come here in the hopes of knowing other love affairs, but now that I'm here, I don't really think too much about it.
July ll: I know the beach. I only saw a little bit of it when we got to the station, and it was a mess. At the right you see the white, tall lighthouse towering above the somber rocks. The sun is burning down, the sky is dazzlingly blue. I am enchanted. I shall come here often to bathe with Michel. But I almost like the woods just as well. I discovered in the Avenue of Soupires (the one that passes behind us) a sort of sand fall which rolls along like a cascade. Michel and I started from the top and slipped down to the bottom. The sand got into our sandals and bathing suits. We came back with our hair tousled, full of sands, our legs scratched, our arms loaded with flowers. The house is filled with hyacinths and bachelor buttons. I put them into vases, into pots, into old jam jars.
July 12: I am making a sensible progress in biking. I went to the bike shop and there were young fellows there. I tried to make an impression on them. I remarked among them a rather handsome type, with magnificent, dark eyes. I think he saw me, and that I didn't displease him.
July 13: I went back to the bike shop with Michel. I hesitated to go on my bike, because I'm not good enough yet. If I fell, the others would laugh at me. The young fellow I noticed the other day was not there. I shall pay attention to know what time he passes before I go again. Black that's the dog is always at the house and getting fatter and fatter. There's a splendid hunting dog that comes to play with us in the garden, tall, lean, with long wavy white hair, but his long ears are black and white. He loves sugar and tries to steal Black's bones. Black doesn't say anything because the other, Bobby, is a friend of his.
This gives us two dogs, and I love them so much! We can't have any in Paris because the owner of the apartment doesn't like them. There is a woman who comes to do our washing, she has a son about Michel's age and a daughter of fifteen. I don't like the girl very much, but since I don't have anybody else to talk with, I have to get along with her. Her name is Lucienne. It's extraordinary how all of them are darkhaired in that family. The father, the mother, the two children. Their hair, their eyelids, their eyebrows are as black as ink. Lucienne lets her hair hang down the back. She said to me, "The other morning I was combing in front of the mirror, and I looked at my hair and I was dazzled by it." What a boaster she is! To be dazzled by your own hair is really something! It is very thick, but it's stringy and coarse as wool, in my opinion. What I think gives her that really black tint is that her hair isn't really clean. She tells me she has a sweetheart. He mustn't be very discriminating. It seems they both go walking every evening after dinner with her mother and her brother. All I envy her for is that her mother allows her to have a lover. If I could only be permitted to have the same thing, so far as my parents were concerned but there's no hope from there!
July 16: The wonderfully marvelous weather we have here! The sky is always blue. I went to the bike shop in the evening after dinner with my aunt, my brother, Lucienne, Richard (her brother) and her mother. The young man I noticed before was also there. He smiled when I walked past him. Lucienne thought he smiled at her, and she strutted about proudly, but I didn't say anything. This young man is very handsome and sympathetic. He seems intelligent, and I shall certainly make a lover out of him.
July 17: I went to the bike shop with Michel this afternoon. We were near a group of cyclists who were chatting. I recognized one of them by his accent, which proved he had gone to school at Belleville. I glanced at him for a moment and then said, "You must be from Belleville."
"Yes, you too."
"Yes." And that's the way we started our conversation. I rode out with them and we had a nice time until evening. The one from Belleville is named Edmond Vignaud. He is a very handsome boy tall and with lots of muscle. He has a brother who's thin and blond with the white skin of a girl, named Emile Beauvignon. It's going to be fun to flirt with them.
July 20: I am happy madly happy! I went to the bike shop with Michel and Lucienne. The young man whom I noticed the first few days was there. He was biking alone on the round track, and each time he passed before us he smiled and looked back. Lucienne, still thinking it was all for her, called to him, "Are you going to be in a race."
"Yes," he said. I called out to him, holding up a white rose to my mouth: "If you win, I'll give you my rose!" He looked at me with astonishment, surprised at my offer. He made another turn, and then stopped before me. He is really thin, with black eyes that devoured me; his teeth shone, white and sparkling. My God, what beautiful eyes and teeth.
"I won. Will you give it to me?" We chatted very amicably before my aunt called me to go to bed. All she has to do is stand in front of the door and call, and I can hear her at the bike shop. Lucienne went away furious, red with anger. I knew it would make her jealous. This young man I would say my lover! is named Maurice E--. He is twenty-three. He pleases me mightily from all points of view. He is of unbelievable timidity, even gentleness, but when somebody else acts familiarly with me, flames seem to sparkle in his eyes. I love him a lot. I am pleased to be near him, and I think he has a crush on me. How happy I am!
July 25: I talk every day with Maurice E--. We are very good friends. He is not the sort of imbecile who tells you all sorts of nonsense. He is always very proper with me, but when we talk and stand close together, I can read desire in his shining eyes. The other girls who used to come to the bike shop in the evening don't come any more. When I want to make Maurice desperate, all I have to do is to joke with some other fellow. Yesterday evening, both of us were deep in conversation. That is to say, Maurice was regarding me with all his eyes, and I looked indifferent, and from time to time one or the other of us said something. I wasn't bored, far from it; but I saw my aunt on the street, and I was sure she had come to look for me. So I said to Maurice, "Goodbye, I have to go." He had such an unhappy air that I squeezed his hand and smiled, "Does it annoy you to see me leave?" He said: "I love so much to be near you." He blushed, lowered his eyes and dropped my hand. As I turned away laughingly, I sent him a rather sultry look and ran my tongue over my lips. He didn't know whether I did it on purpose or not, and it was delicious.
Same evening: He come back this evening, more disturbed than usual. He had an armful of roses, having swiped them in the road of Cythere, which is full of them. He gave them all to me. I let him sit down next to me on the grass, and he was delighted. We stretched out side by side, and I bent one leg carelessly. He turned his head, so as not to see what I was showing. Decidedly, I think I could be very confidential with him. That's obvious, but not the same way as the others. My arms were raised and my armpits were very visible to him. I saw his nostrils palpitate; he was becoming more and more disturbed. Inwardly, I felt so delicious in seeing him that way. I even pushed audacity to look and see if his trousers were bulging from being excited. He blushed like anything. He got up and walked around a bit.
I didn't know what to do to touch him, since we hadn't had any other contact except shaking hands. Then I had an excellent idea. I teased little Rene, and under pretext of running away when he chased me, I flung myself against Maurice and clung to his arm. It was the first time our bodies had touched, and the funny thing was that I was as excited as he was. He held his bike with both hands and tightened them when he felt my body against his. I can't wait to try it again. I left him dreaming. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I am sure he will come in the morning. Then we can have fun all day long!
July 27: The sun is magnificent. Maurice looked very nice in a white shirt and black bathing trunks, socks and cycling shoes, with his little beret pulled over his right eye.
About ten o'clock we rested a little. We had chatted nicely, as usual. I succeeded in touching Maurice twice, and he blushed or paled each time. I told him about Paris, my school, my success in design and in gymnasium and in editing. I talked a lot about gymnasium. He said to me, "Yes, you're very supple. That struck me right away. When you walk, that's the first thing I noticed."
"You like a woman to be supple?"
"Oh, yes. I think it's very charming." Sometimes he uses strange expressions. His French is mixed up a little with words from the country, and his accent is from the South, which gives all his words an unexpected attraction.
"Tell me, Maurice" (I said his name without seeming to know it, and he blushed), "Who are the lovely women you know?"
"I don't know any. The women here aren't lovely."
"Ah, you must be very difficult, then. Well, where do you find them to your taste?"
"In Paris. The Parisian women are chic, almost all lovely. Besides, they have a charm others don't."
"Do you know many Parisians?"
"No. I know only you, and a few women who come to spend the summer."
We remained silent a little while, and then he want on: "I would never have believed that you were only thirteen and a half when I saw you the first time. You are so much more a woman than the girls who come here. Besides, you see they don't come here any more now that you're here."
I thought he wanted to tell me something else. He turned around. Did he want me to help him?
"You have such lovely eyes. But why are they so vicious?"
There we had it. That was cowardly. I rolled around toward him we were stretched out in the grass. As I rubbed against him as much as I could, I asked him as I held him by the arm, "I have vicious eyes? I? Now what do you mean by that?" But he didn't explain. He seemed to be dumbfounded.
The second time he turned white as snow. He was leaning against a tree, his right arm raised above his head, staring at the other cyclists who were going round and round on the burning macadamized strip. I came to watch with him, and I put my hand on his shoulder, in a fraternal way, my hip and my leg rubbing his. He didn't stir, but his eyelids lowered. We stayed a long time like that. He was as happy as a king. When they left at noon, I went with the others back to the villa. Early in the afternoon, they came back. I thought Maurice would come too, but he didn't. Maybe he had another girl friend, and went with her? I came back as fast as I could on my bike, so that I wouldn't be late for lunch. It made me very warm and I was all out of breath!
July 28: All of them came back this afternoon. Even the girl who tends the shop of Galipeau, the bicycle dealer. I know her a little, because I already had her change my wheel and while I waited, I chatted with her. Her name is Madeleine, and she must be twenty or twenty-two. I learned from the baker that she is almost engaged to Maurice. That astonishes me a lot. He hasn't been with her often since I've know him.
It was very warm when they came, so nobody went around racing. I went to sit on one of the benches that was sheltered from the sun. Madeleine came to sit beside me, reading a movie magazine. Maurice, who sat astride the barrier circling the track, was watching me. I sat on one of the benches, and my feet were struck up on another. I don't know whether it was the effect of the sun or whether he had had some wine for lunch, but Maurice seemed to be very vulgar all of a sudden. He suddenly began to laugh, then said to me, jerking his thumb towards what he was looking at, "You know, I can see everything from where I am."
"So? You like what you see."
"Yes."
"Well, then, stay where you are." We all laughed, and Maurice did just that, staring without concerning himself with what I was showing. It didn't make much importance, and he couldn't see very much, because after all I had panties on. It was the first time he had allowed himself to be a little nasty in my presence.
Afterwards Maurice came to sit down beside us, and we chatted. Madeleine seemed to be quite free with him, so it appears that they had known each other for quite some time. Madeleine was telling me that the two of them had gone biking once and Maurice had knocked her over. She didn't like it, and although it was an accident, he took his revenge by knocking her over again, so she told him to stop because all her hair was coming loose. So I asked Madelaine why she didn't like her hair coming loose, and Maurice fell into the trap that I had laid by saying to me, "You mean, you like to do drag racing? Close enough to touch without touching?"
"Sure," I said with an air of bravado.
"I bet you I could make your shoulders touch the ground," he boasted. I took him up on it. All he did was kneel down and then toppled me over I should have suspected as much. I struggled, just enough to excite him, but I showed that I was having as much fun as he was. Naturally he made my shoulders touch the ground. He remained kneeling over me, his dark eyes and beautiful teeth lighting up his flushed face. He looked at me so intently that I laughed, because he had just breathed on my armpit, which sent teency little shivers running all up and down my back. Then I said to him, "Do it again."
He continued, but not for long, because the others were beginning to make nasty remarks. I think he's becoming enterprising. I don't know if it's true that he is Madelaine's fianc�, but I suspect as much. Then he went biking a little, and took the course with Jean, little Renee, and two others who are now coming around, Sodier and Paulin. He wins all the time, and he looks just beautiful when he bikes and races. I drank from the same bottle he brought me, both beer and then lemonade. If auntie knew that I had drunk beer, I don't know what she would do! Madelaine refused because we didn't have any glasses. Oh, we had a great time, and I biked away with him.
We biked slowly, because Madeleine was on foot. I took my brother on my seat, and since it is a man's bike I have, there was room for him. Michel loves it when we go racing, and I have even taught him to get on a little bike. One of these days he can go by himself. He knows very well he doesn't dare say anything at home, because if they shut me up for going out with boys so much, he wouldn't be able to go out with me at all. He's smart enough to know that!
August 4: Now Maurice comes every day after work. Today he wore a blue sport shirt and chestnut-colored trousers. He hadn't changed his working clothes, so that he could come to see me all the faster. He tells me that Madeleine is jealous of me. I asked how he knew. "By simple supposition," he said. I didn't dare ask him if it was true that they were engaged. He was really very silent that evening, and I did most of the talking. I put my hand on the barrier. He caressed it gently, and I didn't move because I was waiting for something else. "You're very sympathetic towards me, Marie," he said to me. I gave him a rather disdainful smile for such a tame avowal. He made some allusion toward our struggle of the day before, but I wasn't in a very good mood, so he didn't insist on it. He said when he left me that I was much less friendly than usual.
August 6: I've never had such fun! I went to Madeline's and she kept me till evening. About five o'clock Maurice came to the store. Seeing me, he got off his bike to come chat with us. In the shop, there are long metal wands buried into the walls, from which you can hang inner tubes and tires. He cornered me between two of them, and I laughed like crazy. His face looked the same as it did Sunday when he held me under him. He kept me prisoner in a corner that was so dark and shadowy that it excited him very obviously. He pinned me to the wall and held my hand. He remained that way without daring to do more, and I stared at him fixedly: I was also excited. So he would dare, I said to him, "You know, Maurice, I'm ticklish."
"Is that so?" So that he could prove this, he began to tickle me. Then his hand slowly caressed me. He came closer still, and I felt his breath. He let go of my hand, to clutch my waist with his, like a belt. He even had the courage to kiss my neck. When he found that I liked it a lot, he kissed me like a madman, on the lips, hair, cheeks, and pressed against me, so that I couldn't do a thing about it, he pushed his hand under my dress, but he hurt me. When we were calmed down a little, we could see that Madeleine was looking. Maurice was flushed and sweating: "I'll catch it from her for this." I think he will, at that I shall come here more often, so he can start that all over again!
August 10: I have made the acquaintance of the son of the owner of the bike shop, a young fellow of about sixteen or eighteen, who is neither handsome nor intelligent, but he seems to like being with me. He has noticed me several times, and finally decided to chat with me. "Are you having a good time here."
"Yes. And you?"
"Not really. I come here from time to time, because my Dad sends me."
"To do what?"
"To see what's going on. We have cabins for the cyclists. They are over to the left."
"Your father owns this place."
"Yes."
"I see."
Then he said to me, "I hope I'm not bothering you. Your friend down there doesn't seem to be very happy to see you talking with me."
"My friend? What friend? He's no more my friend than the others."
"However," he protested, "always I see you with him, and he seems to be very fond of you I can see that."
"Oh, are you already paying court to me."
"You deserve it."
"You aren't kidding."
"Are you from Paris."
"Yes. What about you."
"I'm from Lemoins. What's your name."
"Marie-Therese. But they usually call me Rita or Marita."
"That's nice."
"Your name?"
"Daniel Naudar. Well, Miss Rita, would you like to come bike with me this afternoon?"
"Perhaps. I'll be here about one-thirty. If you want to come looking for me."
"Of course. Won't your friend make some jealous scene?"
"You think that would matter? Well, till this afternoon. Where shall we go?"
"Wherever you like. We'll see." He went out, radiant. It amused me a lot to excite Maurice's jealousy. I went up to him, and he made a long face as usual and said with a kind of sarcastic air, "Your affairs are going nicely?"
"You're jealous?"
"I haven't got the right to be."
"That's exactly what I'd have told you if you'd said yes."
"Now that he's gone, will you come with me?"
"Don't I bore you?"
"Oh, no. Quite the contrary."
So we went out together, but I left him in front of our place. He biked on without a hurry, whistling as if to keep up appearances.
August ll: I went out with Daniel Naudar, but we left our bikes in the shop and walked into the woods. We went along a stream, hidden under the thick rocks and brambles. There were bluebells and dandelions, and on the calm water we could even see a few lily pads. Daniel took me by the waist and held me against him, and gave me rapid kisses near my ear. Then he plucked some bachelor's buttons to make me a bouquet.
I saw the trunk of a palm tree, and my eyes followed it to the top, which looked like the shape of a pointed hat worn by a noblewoman from feudal days. It moved back and forth, in a continuous, rhythmic way. There was a sinister crackling under my feet: the pine cones, half buried in the ground, explained the noise. The odor of resin, mingled with those of the flowers and the needles, was just enchanting.
The bouquet that Daniel offered me wasn't very big, so we filled it out when we returned. He had fun throwing pebbles in the stream and seeing if he could skip them. I began to feel mosquito bites. Daniel was paying court to me: he said such things as, "You're lovely. You please me a lot. You must be awfully nice when you're naked." I hardly listened to him. It was like the buzzing of an inoffensive insect, which doesn't call your attention. Suddenly he said, "Well, will you?"
He was asking me if I would, and I didn't even know what it was all about, so I said, "Will I what?"
"Well, do what I ask."
"I don't remember. Ask me again."
He looked at me, startled, asking himself if I were playing tricks on him or just being silly. "I asked you to take off your bathing suit and keep on only your robe."
"No!"
"But yes. That's what I asked you."
"Perhaps you did, but the answer is still no. I don't want to. Why should I, anyway?"
"So I can see you. Are you so ferocious?"
"I'm not at all. You're just going too fast, you know: You can see all you want, but I shan't take off my bathing suit, because the wind is chilly and I could take a cold. Shall we go back?"
"Oh, if you want to." He sulked a little, but when he found that I paid no attention to it, he became a little more friendly. He gave me all the flowers he had picked, timidly fondled me, and gave me stealthy looks. That made him feel in the wrong, so he asked me if I would like to have tea with him tomorrow in the nice pastry shop. I said yes, as if I were doing him a favor.
I put the bachelor buttons in a vase over the mantel-place. If I can, I'll try to make a necklace of them, because I once saw one and it was very pretty. I came back late, just in time to see Maurice leave the bike shop. How furious he must be, because I'm sure he knows I was with Daniel.
August 12: I have just seen Maurice. He came especially early this morning to see me. He had on a violet shirt, which made his teeth seem even whiter and his dark eyes even darker, and he said, "Good-by, Rita."
"Good morning, Maurice. How are things?"
He gave me a nasty look and said, "So you had yourself a nice time, yesterday?' '
"Not especially. But then, I'm not too choosey."
"So that Naudar pleases you a lot?"
"No. But when I don't know what else to do with myself, what difference does it make?"
"Nothing. I say nothing!" He seemed to grind his teeth. I came closer to him, and almost gently with tenderness, cooed, "It displeases you? You must be in love with me, to breathe like that. Whom are you in love with?"
"With you!"
There we had it. At last, the declaration I wanted. He certainly took his time about it, though. I drew myself up haughtily, and I said: "You're crazy, Maurice. I'm a child and you're a man. It's good for Daniel to tell me that."
"He told you that, too?"
"Sure he did." I burst out laughing, and added: "Why shouldn't he be in love with me?"
"Don't play tricks on me. Rita, come back to Madeleine's. I'll be there this evening. Will you come?"
"Perhaps, if you insist."
"I do."
"A lot?"
"A lot!"
He took me in his arms and kissed me on the hair, not daring to take my lips. How timid he is! I'll go after lunch with Daniel to bike a little and then have tea.
Same evening: For my date with Daniel I put on my cretonne dress with the little flowers and white clogs. We biked through the town, and he showed me where he lives. About four-thirty we went to the pastry shop called "At the sign of Pierrot." Each of us had an orangeade with cakes. Our bikes leaned against the rail outside. Generally I don't eat too many cakes, but this time I was ravenous. He paid a royal tip, and then we left. We continued our promenade and wound up on the beach. As we were very warm by then, he offered me a soda at the Casino bar. Then he asked me if I liked to dance, and I told him that I didn't know how and he wouldn't believe it. "You'll have to learn. If you like, I'll teach you."
"No, thanks, I shouldn't like that," I said.
"You're not really nice," he grumbled.
"Yes, I am. But if you think I'm going to do anything you say just because it's your pleasure -"
"Can I see you every day?"
"That depends on what I have to do," I said with a shrug.
"You have lots to do?"
"No, but that's no reason to be always with you." I saw that he was vexed, especially when he said, "Well, it doesn't make any difference anyway."
"Come, Daniel,"' I teased, "don't make a face like that. He just shrugged again and sulked. So I changed the subject.
"What's your dog's name?"
"Athos."
"He's vicious, Athos is. He always puts his nose under my dress."
"He thinks it smells good."
"Do you?"
"I do." With this, he took out a cigarette case and actually took one without offering it to me. I asked him for one, and to his surprise smoked two or three before we went back. Then I went to Madeleine's. Maurice had been there for half an hour. He looked very cross. I came in, happy, carefree, and said, "Good day. Madeleine, good day, Louise, good day, Martin, good day, my old Maurice. Have you been here very long?"
He gave me an angry look and said, "No!" Madeleine made a face. "Oh, what a lie. He came in to see me about one o'clock, and then came back forty minutes ago. He really didn't kill himself at work today."
I eyed him and said, "Is it true, Maurice, that you were waiting for me? I couldn't come back any sooner."
"What kept you?"
"I went to have tea with Daniel, and we took a walk."
"Did you have a good time?' '
"Yes, but my tummy's still full because I ate so many cakes."
"Daniel is generous."
I teased, "Don't you think I'm worth all the trouble, Maurice?"
"Yes, you are. One would do even more for you."
"Who is that one?"
"Me."
I caught him by the arm and tried to push him against the bench, but I was the one who was cornered. He turned me over on the table and lifted up my dress. Fortunately I had my bathing suit under it. Louise and Martha, who are Madelaine's sister and cousin respectively, burst out laughing. I wriggled all I could while Maurice tickled me. Martha, who is thirteen, took great delight in watching us. "Stick your finger in, Maurice," she advised. Maurice took that excellent advice. Leaning over me, he saw in my face the expression which his caresses were causing. "Rita, dear, I want you."
"Maurice please shut up let me go. Let me go now."
He let me go, but only when he had finished doing what he wanted to me. Martha continued to look into the street as if people were coming to watch us. Madelaine resumed her embroidery, and Louise went to look for crescent rolls.
Maurice now turned to Madeleine and, his hands plunged into her bodice, fondled her titties. She has big ones. He pulled them out and said to me, "Look, Marita, aren't her titties nice?" She was very proud of them, and she didn't hurry to put her bodice back into order. But, like the good girl she is, she shared her crescent roll with me and Maurice, and we each took turns at taking a bite. She then told me that she was Maurice's fianc�e, but she didn't want to marry him because he always got tipsy.
She's a liar. I very seldom have seen him that way. Maurice pretends they're engaged, but I'll bet it's because he doesn't want any more from her, since she's neither beautiful nor loving. I'd rather believe him than her. Beside, I've heard rumors that he broke with her because she has another man by the name of Rene. So that's why she's so nice to that Rene, who comes here after dinner. He's ugly and so stupid. I find Maurice nicer and nicer.
In leaving to go to dinner, Maurice offered me an aperitif, and I said we'd do it the next time. I ran back home as quickly as I could, since I hadn't been there since noon. Michel was playing pirates. Naturally he's always the chief, otherwise he wouldn't play!
August 15: It's getting warmer and warmer, and there are more and more bathers on the beach. I almost never go to the beach. My life is spent between the bike shop and the woods, because it's so good in the woods. This afternoon Daniel and I went to Madame Prune, a kind of little restaurant-inn where they have wonderful prune tarts, oysters, and white Bordeaux wine that would make you gay in a hurry. I had a hot sugared tart, and the wine gave me wings on the way back. As long as he can be with me, Daniel asks for nothing else. He wanted to know if I cared to go the stadium tomorrow, where they do gymnastics. They have trapezes and trampoline and other things there. If we're thirsty, we can go to the cafe outside. That's wonderful I shan't tell Michel about it, because then he'll want to come with us.
August 18: Daniel waited for me, and succeeded in seeing me a few minutes before dinner. We ran down to the beach, and Daniel got out of breath following me. Then we lay down flat on our stomachs and traced arabesques with a pine needle.
"I want to offer you something, Rita. What would really please you?"
"Thanks a lot," I said, "but I really don't want anything."
"A bracelet?"
"I'd rather have a collar. I've seen one I like a lot."
"Where?"
"At Renaud's. It's made of white crystals. It's the first one next to the pearl necklaces, and it has a little clasp on a pink thread."
"I'll bring it to you tomorrow morning."
"What time will you be at the bike shop?"
"About nine."
We ran back, and I let Daniel see as much of my legs as he wanted to. I felt it was the least I could do for the wonderful gift he was going to give me! Besides, it takes so little to make him happy.
What really got on my nerves was when, as we were climbing on the rocks, I grabbed him to make him fall down on me. He scrambled away and looked to be very angry, and said, "If you keep that up, you won't get your necklace."
Don't get nasty," I warned. "I don't give a darn for your necklace or you either. First of all, I don't want it. You can keep it."
Then he tried to beg off, but it didn't work. I don't like anybody to talk about the presents they are going to give me. If he does give it to me, I won't take it!
August 19: I was at the bike shop at the agreed hour, or really about nine-thirty. We went out to the beach where the sun was beautiful and the water so calm, extending way out till it seemed to join the sky.
"I've brought you your necklace, Rita. Are you happy with it?"
"Yes."
"Will you let me put it on you?"
I let him do it. I was still a little angry with him, remembering our last dispute. He asked me plaintively, "Aren't you going to say thanks?"
"No."
"Why?"
"It is already a great deal that I even bother to accept it."
"Well, darn it, if I had known that, I would have kept my money," he said sulkily. I was horribly vexed that I had it around my neck and had accepted it in spite of what he had said the night before. An idea came to me. We had gone now to the woods and our legs were hanging over the bank of the stream. I dipped my bare feet into the cool water. With an enigmatic smile I unfastened the necklace. Daniel thought I was going to give it back to him. Swiftly, I broke the thread that held the little beads together, and one by one I dropped them into the running stream. Each stone seemed to scintillate like thousands of tiny diamonds. Without saying a word, I put on my shoes, and I left, kicking at the flowers along the way. Silently Daniel got up and followed, mad with me and with himself.
August 25: I spent all afternoon at the bike shop.
Handsome Edmond Vignaud has a crush on me. He pays court to me, but he is very badly brought up it didn't do any good to come from Belleville.
Emile Beauvignon is always joking and tells me crazy things. Emile and Edmond were in a bike cabin, changing their wheels. They told the naughtiest stories. Every time Edmond comes anywhere near me, he pinches me, tickles me, or tries to put his hand under my dress, which makes Emile's cheeks turn pale-as a worn-out unbrella. It seems to me when all these cyclists go along with me, that I am a kind of queen presiding over a court of suitors. They all have their tongues hanging out, their eyes full of desire, each waiting his turn. Only, here, with me, no one will have his turn. I want to flirt, but that's all.
Before I left, Moses called me aside and said to me, "You know that he's crazy about you?"
"Ah? How do you know that?"
"It's very obvious when he talks about you. When he has a moment, he comes to spend it with you. Don't tell him that, huh? Before he used to spend every evening with us at the cafe. Now we never see him."
Moses is long and thin like an asparagus, and he has a round little head, rosy cheeks, blue eyes, blond hair that's very curly. I think he looks at me very insistently a lot, Would it amuse him to pay court to me? Just as I was thinking that, he asked: "Won't you come out with me?"
"With you? Where?"
"As far as R--. Maybe you'll see Maurice."
"If you think I run after men? If Maurice wants to see me, he knows where to find me," I said coldly.
"He can't come this afternoon. He had to go to Fior his boss."
"You've a lot of nerve, you have! Here you ask me if I want to go with you to try to see him when you knew all along he was at F-, " I told him. He went away crestfallen, knowing that I had found him out.
August 30: I came back with Madeleine. I don't know how Maurice knew, but in any case he came to keep company with us until evening. The same bustling around as the other time, and we both had such a lot of fun. Martha and Louise are enchanted, as they both love to be fondled, especially Martha, Maurice wanted to offer me an aperitif, but I remembered the last time, and if he hadn't taken me home, I would have been drunk. I couldn't see myself doing three kilometers on my bike, zigzagging back and forth. Madeleine was very nice.
September 9: Daniel is becoming timid. Is it because of the necklace? He has seen once more that I don't have a very good character. Black is becoming enormous, but he is very gentle. Michel teases him, but he won't bite, even though he doesn't know Michel very well.
I went out on the esplanade with Daniel and Bobby. I was proud to have at my side such a magnificent beast. I mean Bobby, of course. Daniel introduced me to one of his buddies who is soon getting married. He is eighteen and his future wife is waiting until she becomes fifteen years and three months before she has the legal right to become his wife. I think it's crazy to be getting married at that age. It's probably because she's pregnant that she's getting married so young.
I don't know why I think of the fireworks of July 14 and July 15, but when I'm bored I see again certain phases of my past existence. Since yesterday my brain has been full of sun and rockets and fireworks. I remember that both times I was with my aunt and I was bored to tears.
Daniel took me to take tea at Saint-N-, which is awfully swanky. Only the nicest cars, women dressed in the latest styles, men wearing golf or tennis outfits. In the hall of the Casino, couples were dancing. In front of the gardens, the autos are waiting, kept by chauffeurs in livery.
I like so much to go into the woods. I'd rather do that than stay and look at these imbeciles preening themselves all they can, but Daniel adores it. He always has people around him for lunch, dinner, taking tea or supper. His father came the other day to visit the bike shop, and I think his father looked at me rather funny. Wouldn't it be just something if he had a crush on me, too?
I feel myself gay again. I'm going to have lots of fun, if I get the chance, putting Daniel's father through his paces the way I have his son. The more I think of it, the more I find it absolutely hilarious. That little old man must be very vicious. He is a widower. I wouldn't risk anything in letting that old fool pay court to me, but if Maurice saw it he'd go crazy. Maurice has such a dreamy look these days!
September 10: Maurice really has a crush. I pretended to be ignorant about it, so I asked him where he found all those roses which he loaded onto his bike basket. He said, "In the road of Cythere."
"Where's that."
"Down there. It begins near the train tracks where it goes through the forest and it ends at the villa of Mahe."
"I don't know it. Will you show it to me, Maurice?" So he told me to come along, and I did. I left my bike in the grass back of the shop, and we walked slowly. I had resolved not to take the first step, at least not until we got to that famous road. Maurice rode me on his bikes, and when I got off, he laid it against the trellis laden with roses. The road was short but lovely. I saw all these roses, red, white, pink heads, surrounding me on every side, their petals blew into my hair, their thorns made drops of blood spring out of my bare skin, and my dress was caught by their stems, sometimes lifted to them by the breeze. Maurice, his hands in his pocket, watched me.
"Something is lacking, Marita, so don't move. I'm coming back." He climbed up a trellis and came back with a huge bouquet of tea roses in his arms, which he gave to me. "Marita, you are the most beautiful of all these flowers. The red rose is less fresh than your lips. Your skin is more golden than this tea rose. I like your perfume better than the white rose's."
My gracious! I've made a poet out of a bicyclist. But I was intoxicated from all this perfume on every side. And how blue the sky was. There were invisible birds singing, and Maurice still looking at me.
He came to me and kissed me. I felt his desire grow. I lay down in the midst of those flowers, drunk with the sense of their loveliness and with his caresses. Over my troubled eyes was the infinite sky, and looming over me was the body of this man. But alas, he was either too timid or too respectful. His maddest caresses were only kisses, furtive kisses here and there. I could have stayed forever in that road of Cythere, with its flowery pathway, dwelling in voluptuousness, had he only taken me.
We continued until the road ended at the Villa Mahe. White, square, with red shutters, in front of it was a terrain with neither plants nor flowers. It was so dark that I exclaimed at once: "The house of a crime!" This was the first idea that sprang to mind. Indeed, the shutters seemed stained with blood. But Maurice couldn't seem to understand.
"What do you mean? What crime was committed here?"
"I don't know if a crime was committed here, but this house makes me uneasy. If I were to write a novel full of horror and mysteries, this would be a perfect setting for it." It seems to me that all the crimes and all the hallucinations of terror which I have read until now have taken place in houses like this, isolated in the lonely woods. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't take my eyes from that fascinating villa. At last we went back to the bike shop, and Maurice was sad. After the delicious bath of the perfumes of Cythere, the icy chill of the "house of crime" had singularly altered me. We got our bikes and started back, but the persistent silence annoyed me, and I tried to start up a conversation with Maurice: "You're very quiet."
"No."
"Oh, I think you are. Do you love me."
"You know I do."
"Naturally, but since I don't know what to say to you do you have a little friend."
"Yes."
"Who."
"You."
"How stupid you are. Do you have a lady with whom you are sharing violent sentiments which sometimes move you deeply?"
I will admit that at times I talk like a young woman much older than I really am, but I can't help it.
"Are you . . . close to her?"
"I don't know what you mean," Maurice said.
"I mean, with whom do you make love?"
His bicycle zigzagged to the right at this, and then he said, "Why are you this way, Marita?" He chose this name for me, but I think he really meant Ma Rita which is "my Rita," And he added: "Do you think it's nice for a young girl to talk that way? For shame."
"But you won't tell me? Answer. Answer or I'll get angry!"
At last he vowed: "I have no mistress. I am too near you to want to be with any other woman. But life has it's demands, and if I tell you that I passed a few moments in the arms of women that I don't love, I hope you'll understand."
"I understand you. You're timid, Maurice."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because . . . a little while ago . . . there in the road of Cythere . . . if you'd wished . "
"I didn't want to."
I was astonished, and also a little uneasy. Suddenly, didn't I please him any more? So I asked him: "Why didn't you want me? Don't I tempt you?"
"Oh, yes indeed. You tempt me, and you know it very well. But I don't want to act with you as I would with just any girl. You're too young, and it would be to amuse you. I like to laugh and flirt the way you do, but believe me, Rita, stay the way you are. Don't give yourself. The abandon that you show with men you hardly know is already very daring. Let's remain friends, even a little more if you like, but not lovers. You're a child. Don't push me too far to commit a folly. Of course I desire you, but I can't have you. Think of it, Marita. I'm twenty-three and you're not yet fourteen. Don't talk to me any more about this. I don't want to. Do you understand?"
We had continued our journey in silence. Maurice came close to me, tenderly put his hands on my shoulders, his face sadder than ever.
"Will you come to Madeleine's?" I asked him.
"Yes," he gave me quite a look. I wonder if he is still jealous of Daniel.
September 13: It is almost time to return to school. Alas, the lovely days are short now, and the garden is full of pine cones. I'll take back the loveliest to Paris.
Maurice gave me a bouquet of magnificent red roses, which come from his own garden. He has a very bizarre villa. I saw it one day, riding by on my bike with my brother. It's so strange that we got off our bikes to see it. It appears a little back of tall iron grilles, and there are long stretches of lawn and winding pathways. Clumps of roses add a dazzling note and give a rare perfume. There are roses of all kinds: a virginal white, a purple, and others that are almost black. The biggest red ones are mixed with tea roses. Each of them seems to have a special and separate odor, and you can smell it from very far away. There is complete solitude here, but the savage splendor of the woods is all around. The house stands in the middle of the grounds: it is of a sad gray stone, low, and almost lost. The shutters are half drawn and the closed door seems to be faded as if it belonged in the past. The tall pine trees cast a perpetual shadow upon it and seem to hide the sky.
We went around the walls of the garden. Behind the house, we climbed over the low wall of the garden, and there were still more shadows and sadness and mystery. Four shutters, a narrow door, that was the back of the house; the park here was abandoned to the care of nature. Weeds, branches and brambles exuberantly invaded it. The trees were standing close together, casting even more dark shadows from their low height. There was a heavy humidity in the air, the kind that plunges you into an indefinable uneasiness.
To the right there was the bust of a shattered statue, of which there only remained the two round breasts, the thin, long, delicate neck and the white roundness of the shoulders. Buried in the dark earth, one would say it was the torso of a young and beautiful woman who had died in the woods, buried at the foot of the house without a soul. We left, for we had suddenly become afraid. A huge black dog with long sharp teeth came after us, but yet it didn't bark. What a terrifying distress there is in this silent domain guarded by a voiceless dog, surrounded by low walls. How could Maurice live inside?
When we got back on our bikes, I saw on the grille the name of the house: "The Fislipool." Now I am no longer astonished that Maurice is so morose, so self-contained, and that he always looks so sad!
September 14: I went with Daniel to the stadium and we played on the trapeze bars and the rings. We got onto the trampoline, and we bumped one another a lot, which delighted Daniel. He pretended that he was tired out, so he could sit down. Daniel, his nose in the hollow of my dress, between my upper thighs, wouldn't have given up his place for an empire. The stadium was deserted. Daniel put his head under my dress. He kissed me like a madman, and pulled away my bathing suit with his fingers, and tickled my cunt. Before we left, he bought me an aperitif. I was just a little bit tipsy when we left. So I wanted to stretch out on the beach for a little while, to clear my head. Daniel was delighted. He had his own plans.
I had no sooner stretched out than Daniel was on top of me. We struggled, our teeth clenched, our fingers digging into one another, clawing each other with our nails. Daniel wasn't able to do what he wanted. To console him, especially because I was very excited, I let him caress me as much as he wanted to. He did. He tickled my pussy until I nearly fainted and felt a soft, sticky cream gush up to the twitching lips.
In the evening, I went for a walk on the beach with Michel and my aunt. The sea was calm and the stars shone down. The sand was growing cool. I dug my naked feet into it with delight. The rocks seemed black and the sea itself a dark bluish tint. There was a gentle wind, and the sea seemed to rise and fall like a girl's titty. We picked wild flowers as we went along beside the wall, and of course I had the biggest bouquet.
September 16: A funny thing happened to me. There were workers who were doing a job at the bike shop, but no cyclists. I was waiting for Maurice or Daniel, no matter who would come along, but the Portuguese approached me and said: "Miss, come see in Beavignon's cabin. He's left something for you,"
Without any suspicion, I got up, and I was there. I entered behind him in the cabin, and then he turned around and suddenly locked the door. I was alone with him, and I couldn't expect any help from the workers. They were probably standing outside. Having kissed and caressed me, and looked me all over, he unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers. Without a word, I let him do it, watching for the least inattention on his part that would allow me to escape. I was a little curious, I admit. It wasn't unpleasant up till now, but it could turn out badly.
"Lie down," he said dully to me.
"No!"
He took me around the waist and flung me to the floor. I struggled again, and I needed all my strength. He tried to spread my legs apart. I hit him, I clawed him with my nails. He caught me a blow on the head that almost stunned me. The shock made me relax my clenched legs, and he profitted by putting one leg between my knees. I thought I was done for. I already felt it, his prick was rubbing at my pussy, another thrust of his hips and I'd be really ruined.
I plunged my hand into his hair, and pulled. I said, "If you keep that up, I'll tell your wife, and I'll tear your shirt."
Pretending not to understand, he was just about to do what he wanted, to put his cock into my pussy, when I found myself standing. I had succeeded in tearing his shirt. When he heard the material tear, me made a motion to stop me, and that's what enabled me to escape. Standing face to face, we measured each other with a look. He wasn't too bad, tall, heavily set, a forehead that was hidden under curly black ringlets, his chest panting, his shoulders strongly muscled, his shirt in tatters. He took a big handkerchief out of his pocket to mop his face. I could see the pointed dark tip of his nipple through his torn shirt. He finally lowered his eyes before my ironic and conquering gaze. I really wasn't mad at him. This foretaste of cock had sort of enervated me, and I was sorry I had beaten him.
Beauvignon and his buddy Edmond must have known what was going on in their cabin, because they said to me, "Well, did he have you? How did he do?" I called them both imbeciles, and asked them if they thought they could have me so easily. To convince them, I told them everything that happened. They listened attentively. Edmond concluded: "You did well. But it's going to happen to you one of these days. You're always prowling around where there are men, you like to excite them and tease them, and you're stunned when they fall pn you. I could have done as much the other day when we were alone in my cabin, and I wouldn't have been wrong. Only you're too young, and I thought of that."
Beauvignon interrupted him. "Perhaps now you'll come less often to the bike shop." Edmond ironically replied, "You think so? She likes it. She likes to play the risky game. She's won this time, and she's going to try it again. What more will she do to drag men behind her? It's her joy. Are you going to deprive her of it?" And then he suddenly threw me back down on the grass and put his finger up my pussy. I didn't mind, and he liked it too. Finally he plunged his head, his eyes tightly closed, between my thighs. In his impatience, he burst the three buttons which close my step-ins. Beauvignon pretended to look elsewhere, but from time to time I saw him glance at us, his face red as a turkey's wattles. I had never experienced so much pleasure by caresses: it was exasperating, agonizing and delicious, all at once. I was almost as tippy and if I'd had an aperitif. I don't know what I would have done, and if he'd wanted the same thing as the Portugese, I might have let him do it with pleasure, but he didn't.
When we left, Edmond said to Beauvignon, not knowing that I could hear him, "You saw? She's darling, the little one. How I'd love to fuck her!"
When they left, Edmond kissed my neck and whispered to me, "You've got a gorgeous little cunt."
I will admit that every race they run, he wins along with Beauvignon, and I get the most beautiful rose of the triumphal bouquet. But that's my life.
September 17: Sunday there was a race with the Bordelais. Naturally I was there to see.
September 18: Maurice found out about the story with the Portuguese, and although he didn't say anything to me about it, I felt that he wasn't happy about it. So I took the offensive: "Maurice, did you know that the Portuguese tried to rape me?" He didn't say anything so I went on: "Tell me, Maurice, what do you think of it?"
"I think that it's very sad that a young girl like you should be at the mercy, through her imprudence, of any brute at all." There was rage, rancor, shame even, in his look.
"You're right, Maurice, but -" I began. But he cut me off sharply. "There are no buts, and don't play any tricks on me. Suppose you'd got pregnant from that fellow, who is married and the father of four children. What would you have done?"
"But I can't be pregnant, since I'm a virgin, Maurice."
'That's true, Marita then...then he didn't do anything to you?" His voice became gentle, his face softened.
"I tell you he didn't. No, Maurice, not him nor anybody else."
Right away he was reassured. We talked of one thing and another, and he caressed my arm as we talked. Before we left, he squeezed my hand and, perhaps regretfully, I have no doubt, he gave me a kiss with just the lightest touch of his mouth. I know he is jealous, and if I belonged to him, he would probably die of jealousy to know that anybody else had touched me!
Same evening: The Bordelais have won the race. They offered me the most beautiful flowers of their bouquet. I had never seen them before, so I was very much nattered by this mark of spontaneous interest. What pleased me most was that the other girls who were watching the race were frightfully jealous. Then the cyclists took me to town to buy me an aperitif, and Oh! did I get tipsy.
In town, on my own bike, with the two winners on either side, each of them holding me by a shoulder, a bouquet of honor in one of my hands, I really made an appearance, I can tell you. If Maurice had seen me, he would really have gotten sick.
September 19: Maurice found out that I took an aperitif with the Bordelais. There is always somebody to squeal on me, so I had to ask him why he was angry, and then I had to ask whether it was because I made the Bordelais like me, and then he said, "You thought it nice to run around and gossip with a band of men trailing you, that you don't even know."
"I'm asking what you're reproaching me for. I do what pleases me, that's all."
"That's true. It really shouldn't and doesn't concern me. I beg your pardon, Marita."
"Don't tire yourself. You're ten years older than I, and you feel yourself obliged to judge my conduct. Perhaps you're right."
He left me in a better humor. It's amazing how much he lets himself be convinced by me. He's a nice fellow, just the same.
Daniel took me again to have tea, always in the same shop. I had even more cakes than last time. I ate a baba au rhum, a strawberry tart, and a chocolate �clair. I had a tummy ache from it, but it was wonderful just the same.
September 21: The month of September is ending too fast, and it will soon be time for school. The sun isn't so warm any more, and it sinks earlier. The sea is paler than ever, and the sand gets cold about six. There aren't quite so many bathers. There aren't any more regattas or bicycle races. The Casino doesn't light all its lamps, and at night the beach is deserted. Mother Prune makes tarts only on Sunday now. Daniel is going to leave for Saint-Ettienne, where his parents are, and then for Paris. Maurice gets sadder and sadder: he knows I'm going to leave. I hope I can come back. Edmond and Emile Beauvignon are going to return to Paris. It hasn't yet been settled, but I don't think they will be here for the winter. The rocks are darker and the lighthouse is turning grayer and grayer under the skies. In the trees, there are very few little birds any more. You can hear the blowing of the steam whistles of the ships in the port. There is a sadness here now.
September 23: Daniel gave me a rendezvous, and he is going to take me to the movies. Maurice gave me a rendezvous at Madeleine's; we'll spend the whole day together and then have an aperitif at the cafe where they have music. Edmond told me that he came to find me about five o'clock to take a walk all around and then have some tea and cakes in a fine little shop. If Daniel invites me to the movies when he knows I'm about ready to leave, it's probably because he wants to confess to me in a murmur, concealed by the darkness and the music of the film, that he loves me at least madly.
Maurice's rendezvous is the first he has dared to ask me openly. The idea of going to a movie and taking an aperitif while the sun is setting and while my heart is full of anguish and desire, is probably motivated by his wanting to tell me that I am everything to him, that he will never forget me, and that he adores me.
Edmond's invitation was probably to try the "trick" of the Portuguese before I left, but with more success. Both of them probably feel that the day is coming when I shall leave, and that I shall give them nothing except regrets. I am leaving. We leave at 9:45 p.m. I feel infinitely tired.
Poor old Black and his young comrade Bobby feel that we are going to leave them. Black watches whenever we go out, and is suspicious of our trunks. He puts his head on my knees and whines gently, as if to say, "Don't go. Stay and caress me. Take me into the dining room when you eat and give me tidbits. After you go, I won't have any right to come and go in this empty house, nor any desire to." Bobby thinks we are going to take him along, and is always joyously yapping when we take him for a walk. He is happy when he goes out and sad when he comes back.
The night is slowly falling and toads are invading the garden. Black sniffs them, and his hair stands on end along his back because he doesn't like them at all. Michel in the garden is polishing his bike very seriously, sticking out his tongue because it's difficult. My aunt is making sure that everything will be ready. Our neighbor is very amiable. She hopes we won't take anything away, like oil, wine, and the like, but leave it for her. The trunks are filled, and the closets are empty. All my things are packed, and I really didn't see much of them this summer; I lived only in this or that dress or bathing suit or my clogs. It's so calm this evening. I almost want to cry. Yes, it's so sad.
September 25: (on the train) Daniel waited for me in vain. He probably got impatient waiting for me in front of the movies, and when he didn't see me coming, went elsewhere, or else he found out that I had already gone. Edmond probably swore as much as he could and then went to sleep, or went to pitch a little woo with the little blonde who always smiles at him. I went to say goodbye to Madeline so Maurice would know that, though he asked for a date, I couldn't make it.
In the afternoon, I saw him at her place. We chatted a little, and he asked if I was going soon. I told him that I was going back to Paris very soon, and I saw that he was troubled. I squeezed his hand and said, "This evening, at seven o'clock, for an aperitif." I filled my eyes with his image. What lovely eyes he has! It makes me feel funny to think that I shall never see him again. If I'd known that, I might have pro-fitted otherwise from his friendship let's say love more than I did. But it's too late now. That warm hand I loved to feel on me so much, that singing accent full of sudden passion, those dark eyes filled with flames, all that I had I shall lose. So with my throat tight I saw him leave, happy to think that the same evening he would be holding me to him and that he could avow his love and perhaps even keep me near him or leave with me.
I said goodbye to Madeleine, who didn't really know what was happening, because she asked me where I was going and when. I said, "This evening, to Paris. Goodbye. Have a good time."
"But what about Maurice waiting for you?"
"You'll console him. You'll tell him that I said good-bye and good luck, I hope he isn't bored too much, I come and I go."
"Will you come back?"
"Perhaps. Only God knows."
"Will you write me? Here's my address. Do you want Maurice's?"
"Why? after I leave, he'll forget me quickly."
So we said goodbye. We kissed without pleasure or regret, indifferently. I didn't bother her, since I never concerned myself with her Rene.
I went back to the house. We locked up the trunks; the carriage that would take us to the train had come, and I got in the last. I kissed Black and I felt a tear roll down my cheeks. We got in the carriage and the park grew distant, and the villas grew fewer and fewer. Bobby joyously barked along the way, as he escorted us. We passed by the beach, and we could see the lighthouse blinking.
People at the station said to us. "Goodbye till next year, eh?" in their accent of the South.
The train is taking me away, and my heart must break. I close my eyes and the last vision I have is of Maurice, and I see his face stamped on my brain. I know that he must be waiting for me, at first joyous, then as time passes nervous, uneasy, then disappointed, then Madeleine will tell him that his little friend has gone back to Paris and left him. Poor old fellow.
I sat down on the bench and turned my back so I wouldn't see him again. I couldn't hold back my tears. There alone in the corridor I gave free rein to my sorrow. I must forget the blue sky and the white foam, and await the dawn. What an ugly thing dawn will be in Paris!
December I: I am bored. Bitterness fills my heart. I dream again of all the things I left down at R--. I wrote to Maurice. I told him that a woman like myself and a man like him would certainly be wrong not to try to give each other a little joy. I told him that I always thought of his eyes and his white teeth, and that his accent and his warm voice were something I would like to have here, now. What will he think? If he loves me, he will write.
December 8: He replied to me, and this is what he wrote: "My dear Marita, your letter surprised me and gave me great joy. Since the day when I first saw you, I felt you would be the most beautiful thing in my life. You are so young! I can't think of you as other than an audacious little girl. How cruel you were the evening of your departure. Why didn't you come to me and say goodbye? Dear, you already mean so much to me. Please, if you want to joke with me, don't do it because I am already unfortunate enough. I go back in the evening on the road to Cythere, but alas! the roses are dead and you aren't there.
I beg you, Marita, don't do silly things. Your parents love you; don't give them any pain. Don't lead the life you led down here. My dear, my love, if truly you want us to be friends, listen to me: we shall write again all winter, and if you come back next summer, then we can really be happy. I desire only one thing: to be able to love you. My loveliest dream, the dream that will probably never be realized, is to marry you for always. If you could love me as much as I love you, we could be married, because then you would wait for the legal age to marry me. Darling, forgive this avowal. I am afraid of making you laugh without understanding truly to what point I love you. I kiss you madly on your lips, all over your adorable little body.
"Your sincere friend, Maurice."
This letter delighted me, but there are seven months more to wait here before I can see him again. I have only one dream and one hope, and that's to return.
Jacqueline became annoying. However, I'm going to tell her that Maurice wrote to me. Madame Farcini is up in arms. Each of us is waiting for the other to strike. She is furious because I don't seem to be frightened by her.
January 2, 1924: I'm in bed with a terrible cold and now even a fever. However, I have a book and I'm not too bored. Jacqueline writes me daily and hopes that I'll be better. She stays downstairs for hours looking up at the window of my room, and I'm happy that she can't see me from there. I reply to her, and she knows my letters by heart. "I wept when I read your letter, my dear," she told me. What a nut she is!
January 12: I sew, I read, and I think. I have long reveries. Maurice occupies my thoughts. I see things again that hadn't made an impression on me at the time. I remember a day when, in the road of Cythere, Maurice gave me that bouquet of tea roses. I left them on the road, near the "house of crime." Now there's only dust, and maybe not even that, left of them. I see Maurice again giving me one evening a flower that he had between his teeth, his lips making a bloody aureole around the white petals. I should like to be with him and belong to him. I know that if I were with him, we should soon become lovers. I'd never pass up such an occasion. I'd even decide to make myself his mistress, before I was old enough to marry him. I wonder and I try to think what such an embrace would be like. I wish I could know that voluptuousness, but I don't want anyone else except him to initiate me.
I always receive letters now from Maurice. My aunt brings them to my bed without any suspicion. She thinks they are the friends from R-, because I told her it is Madeleine who is writing to me.
Jacqueline is jealous of Maurice, but I tell him all my thoughts and hopes and he gives me good advice. Jacqueline makes a face whenever she speaks "my Maurice."
February 20: I got three letters. Maurice's, comforting and talking of love, gave me great pleasure. He still wants me to be his wife some day. He hoped to come to Paris with his boss for a few days and see me then, but alas, his boss went alone and Maurice had to stay there and take care of the business.
Madeleine's letter tells me that Moses Chard-on speaks only of me, thinks only of me, lives only in the hope of seeing me again. I don't think that's true. I saw him very little and only talked to him once. She also tells me that Maurice has changed very much since I came there. He's now very nicely dressed the minute he leaves work. He doesn't go to the bike shop any more, and doesn't even get tipsy any more. On the other had, he's sadder and less talkative than ever.
She tells me that she is going to marry Rene very soon.
The third letter is from Jacqueline. It surpasses all her previous stupidities. She begs pardon for having distracted herself with Martha "while you were suffering" and she premises that she wants me and only me for her friend. She actually has the nerve to write:
"I'd like to see you to beg your pardon. I couldn't sleep all night. I think of you whom I love and whom I've troubled so."
My reply was quick and to the point: "My dear Jacqueline, I'm desolate that you're upsetting yourself to such a point over things that don't have the least importance for me. I'm not jealous, even when I have a crush, and all the more reason now when I don't have the slightest in the world. Stop spending unhappy nights; I assure you that you can rest in peace. I find that you have for me a singular and exaggerated friendship. I have never received letters like yours except from men who desire me. Coming from you, I don't understand them. I like to josh and play with women, but the idea never came into my mind that I should tell them that I love them. I desire only to stay friends, but I do not desire or demand that I have every place in your heart." If she doesn't understand after that, I give up!
March 15: My flirtations are starting again. I love Maurice. He's a friend and a lover, but he's five hundred kilometers away. My new flirt is a boxer, Robert, who's nineteen. I don't really like his name. All the kids in my school know that I see him after I leave class, and they envy me. I really don't know why, because he's not handsome. There's really only one other girl in class who has a lover who's more than a boy, and he's twenty-eight. He displeases me, and I'd never steal him from her. My "dear companions" have "acquaintances" who range from thirteen to sixteen!
My boxer fought for me with the blond Robert whom I used to go with when I was at my first school. I don't know how they know each other, or how they talked about me, but it wound up with a boxing match in the street, and Robert the boxer won. He waited to receive my congratulations, and probably was disappointed when I said, "How stupid you are!"
"What are you saying?" he said.
"Both of you," I said.
In the evening I saw him again, and my aunt hadn't come to get me at school as she used to do. So he took me home. Tomorrow I'll have a date with him. Jacqueline was furious to see that I am flirting with men again. She's jealous of both Maurice and Robert, and she spread all over the school as much as she can that my boxer has a flattened nose. Not only is she jealous of the moments that I give Robert, but she is also jealous of me. She is furious to see that I make so many crushes and she doesn't have any.
I'm still in the first half of the class, though I don't have too good a place because I don't know how to count my grades. Here the students grade themselves, it seems. I shan't worry. Next month I know that I shall be among the first, and I know that I'll get top grades.
April 3: I made a conquest today! I was going to go back into class with another pupil when we went in front of two men who were coming out of a shop. One of them was thin, blond and ugly, with pimples all over his face, but the other was thin, with chestnut hair and green eyes, about thirty. They accosted us, and the pimple-face talked to the girl with me, while the man with the green eyes said, "You're lovely, Miss."
"Oh, you found that all by yourself?" I said coldly.
"You walk divinely, you know. You please me."
"How flattered I am."
"Will you have a coffee with me?"
"No."
"Why? Do I bore you?"
"No, but I don't have the time. I'm going back to school."
"You're joking! You still go to school."
"Yes."
"Well, so much the worse. Maybe some other time."
"Yes, at another time, if you like."
"May I see you again?"
"Perhaps," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Chance makes lots of things happen." We left, and Madame Farcini came up behind us. As we entered the court, she called to me. I came to her without hurry, and this is how it went:
"With whom were you talking?"
"With Jacqueline Sayard."
"No. In the street. I saw you."
"With two gentlemen."
"Who were those two gentlemen?"
"Friends of pa."
"Ah, I don't know that he would be very happy to know that his daughter talks to anyone in the street."
"It isn't anyone. It's Monsieur Lablanche and his friend Duguet."
Madame Farcini didn't go any further, but the two names that I gave her were imaginary.
April 5: I went to chat last Thursday with Robert. We went to Buttress Chamount. The garden was deserted. Seated behind the hedge, we had a nice talk. Robert, with a nervous hand, fondled my titties and told me that he loved me, going into detail about the reasons for his love. I was distracted, it pleased me to hear him and to know his desire, but I thought of that man with the marvelous green eyes.
April 6: The type with the green eyes was waiting for me at the door of the school. I took coffee with him. He asked me my name, and I told him Marita. He said, "Charming. How old are you?"
"Fourteen. What's your name?"
"Edmond."
"Edmond what?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter. How old are you?"
"Guess."
I would have given him thirty years, but I saw that his hands were lean and dry, so I said, "I don't know. It's difficult."
"Why?"
I didn't want to tell him, but I knew he was more than thirty. I guessed that he was spying on me attentively, because none of my gestures or expressions escaped him. I saw by a thousand little signs that he is quite used to women. It wouldn't astonish me if he were thirty-five or thirty-six. So I finally said, "I give you thirty-six."
"You're very generous. I'm only thirty-two."
We chatted till it was time to go back. He's nice enough, and he paid court to me in a different way than others. I believe that, if I could, I should blush. He can't believe that I am a virgin. I have a rendezvous with him tomorrow at the same time.
April 29: Everything turned out marvelously. I told Madame Farcini, with a sorry face, that Papa wouldn't allow me to go. I left with a note signed by my aunt, but instead of going with the others who were going to take part in the play, I took the train and went to Edmond.
He waited for me, as agreed, and opened the door for me. Then as he closed it behind me, he turned the key in the lock and said, "Now I have you."
We went into the little dining room. Obviously a woman was taking care of the house. On the buffet there were two photos, one of a woman of about forty, and the other the smiling profile of Edmond. I left my cloak and hat on a chair, while he heated coffee. He kissed me endlessly, asking all sorts of questions.
"Have you often been at a man's place?"
"This is the first time."
"How nice. What is your real age?"
"Fourteen, I tell you. Who's that lady on the buffet?"
"That's my grocer." His "grocer" is, of course, one of his mistresses. She probably gives him money when he needs it in exchange for his caresses and his tender words. She must also be the one who does up the house.
So I said to him, "Is it your grocer who takes care of the house?"
"Of course," he answered. "But aren't you afraid of being in the house alone with a man you don't know? Because, after all, you don't know me."
"No, why should I be afraid? I'm not afraid of anything."
We had finished our coffee, and he was waiting for something but did not know what to do. He finally decided.
"Come into the room."
I followed him. In this room he drew down double curtains. I began to undress in the dark. On the mantelpiece of this room there were two pictures, one of a baby in a woman's arms, and another of a child holding a toy. I asked him with my look. He said to me, "My wife and my son."
"Have you been divorced a long time?"
"Five years."
"How old is your son?"
"Six now. Isn't he nice?"
"Yes, he is. Do you love him a lot?"
"Yes. I do. I have only him."
"Where is he?"
"With my mother. She's bringing him up."
He put the photo of his son back, and then concerned himself with me. I interrupted my undressing to look at the photos, and took them up again. I was in my chemise. Actually, it was a kind of chemise with panties, garnished with yellow lace. He seemed surprised to see me have on lingerie, and asked, "Is that one of your mother's chemises?"
"What a thing to say! It's mine. Why?"
"You're nice that way."
I took off the chemise and kept on only my socks. I sat up with my back against the vertical posts at the head of the bed, and contemplated myself. He asked me, "How long have you had your monthlies, darling?"
"Since I was twelve and a half."
"I mean, how many years has it been since you became a woman."
"Well, count. Twelve and a half that makes more than two years."
"Well, then you're a little woman. Now then, my pigeon, come here."
I stretched myself out and raised my arms, awaiting him. He lay beside me, looked at me, caressed me gently with his dry hands, and then his lips began to move everywhere, lightly at first and then lingeringly. He was in a kind of nightshirt now.
"You're very lovely now, but at eighteen you'll be marvelous. Oh, what lovely fresh young titties. So new. And you have a delicious little pussy. Do you want to make love?"
"No, not today."
"Why don't you want to?"
"Because I don't want to know that right away."
"Then you're really a virgin? Is it really true? I thought you didn't have your maidenhead any more."
"I never led you to think such a thing."
"Yes, but I thought you'd had lots of experience. You're right, my little darling. Wait a while before you lose it. There's plenty of time. And yet you dared come to me! You are driving me crazy. You can probably see that." He was really sweating big drops by then.
I didn't answer, but I pulled my hand back not too quickly from his cock. He said in a reproachful tone, "Don't you want to? Does it frighten you?" All I did was shrug my bare shoulders, and go on letting myself be admired and desired.
He got over me in reverse, and for a long time he caressed my pyssy with his tongue. It exasperated me. I squeezed his head between my thighs, my toenails dug into the covers, I wriggled and I closed my eyes.
When it was time to go, I dressed myself. He took me just to the door, for fear his "grocer" would see him with me. He gave me money to take a taxi. I told my aunt that I was bored by the play, and I gave her details. I must find another pretext to go back there, for it was very daring. If only Maurice knew!
May 30: Anniversary and catastrophe! We shan't go this year to have our vacation at R--. What a jolt! I had hoped so much to see Maurice again, who is after all the one I prefer. My dream, my beautiful dream! I shall not see again the tall pine trees, the waves, the wild flowers, and the big beach with its sand where the big waves die. Other people will live at the villa. Black will find other friends to give him tidbits during the season. Maurice will forget me. He won't ever go back to the road of Cythere, or if he does, it will be with another. The roses will bend their round heads, while other hands than mine pluck them. His letters will be colder, colder, rarer and rarer, and one day I will discover that it has been a very long time since he last wrote me.
My beautiful dream of love will be finished.
Perhaps when he passes the "house of crime" he will think one day of what we had done on that lovely road, and how we stopped before that lonely house. And then if there remains in his heart a hint of that love, he will perhaps dream of the drops of blood that ran down my arms when I held the roses that he had given me.
I love him all the same. And Daniel. If one day he looks near the stream, perhaps he will see me once again throwing those little drops of beads into the evening water. And Moses, who dreams that he was in love with me what memories will he have of my presence down there? How many things will recall me to him? I don't know, for he must have gleaned images of me of which I know nothing. And the Portuguese. Does he remember our struggle in that little cabin? Does he regret still that he didn't get a chance to fuck me as he wanted?