Erotic Classics I

by Various Authors

  “Precisely.”

  “Well?”

  “He is in love with you, he told me so in confidence, your modest and gentle air pleases him infinitely, he adores your candor, your virtue enchants him; this romantic fellow has eight hundred thousand francs in gold or paper, it’s all in a little coffer he keeps near his bed; let me give the man to understand you consent to hear him, whether that be true or not; for, does it matter? I’ll get him to propose you a drive, you’ll take a carriage out of the town, I’ll persuade him he will advance matters with you during your promenade; you’ll amuse him, you’ll keep him away as long as possible, meanwhile I’ll rob him, but I’ll not flee; his belongings will reach Turin before I quit Grenoble, we will employ all imaginable art to dissuade him from settling his eyes upon us, we’ll pretend to assist his searches; however, my departure will be announced, he’ll not be surprised thereby, you’ll follow me, and the thousand louis will be counted out to you immediately we get to the Piedmont.”

  “Agreed, Madame,” I said to Dubois, fully determined to warn Dubreuil of the concerted theft, “but consider,” I added in order more thoroughly to deceive this villain, “that if Dubreuil is fond of me, by revealing the business or by giving myself to him, I might get much more from him than you offer me to betray him.”

  “Bravo,” replied Dubois, “that’s what I call an adept scholar, I’m beginning to believe Heaven gave you a greater talent for crime than you pretend: ah well,” she continued, picking up a quill, “here’s my note for twenty thousand crowns, now dare say no to me.”

  “Not for the world, Madame,” quoth I, taking her note, “but, at least, my weakness and my wrong in surrendering to your seductions are to be attributed only to my impecunious circumstances.”

  “I’d prefer to interpret it as a meritorious act of your intelligence,” said Dubois, “but if you prefer me to blame your poverty, why then, as you like; serve me and you will always be content.”

  Everything was arranged; the same evening I began in earnest to play my game with Dubreuil, and indeed I discovered he had some taste for me.

  Nothing could have been more embarrassing than my situation: I was without any doubt far from lending myself to the proposed crime even had it been worth ten thousand times as much gold; but the idea of denouncing this woman was also painful for me; I was exceedingly loath to expose to death a creature to whom I had owed my freedom ten years before. I should have liked to have been able to find a way of preventing the crime without having it punished, and with anyone else but a consummate villain like Dubois I should have succeeded; here then is what I resolved to do, all the while unaware that this horrible woman’s base maneuvers would not only topple the entire edifice of my honorable schemes but even punish me for having dreamt of them.

  Upon the day fixed for the projected outing, Dubois invites us both to dine in her room, we accept, and the meal over, Dubreuil and I descend to summon the carriage that has been prepared for us; Dubois does not accompany us, I find myself alone with Dubreuil the moment before we set out.

  “Monsieur,” I say, speaking very rapidly, “listen closely to me, don’t be alarmed, no noise, and above all pay strict attention to what I am going to recommend; have you a reliable friend at this hotel?”

  “Yes, I have a young associate upon whom I can count with absolute confidence.”

  “Then, Monsieur, go promptly and order him not to leave your room for a second while we are on our drive.”

  “But I have the key to the room; what does this excess of precaution signify7”

  “It is more essential than you believe, Monsieur, I beg you to employ it, or else I shall not go out with you; the woman with whom we dined is a bandit, she only arranged our outing in order more easily to rob you while we are gone; make haste, Monsieur, she is watching us, she is dangerous; quickly, turn your key over to your friend, have him go and install himself in your room and let him not budge until we’re back. I’ll explain the rest as soon as we are in the carriage.”

  Dubreuil heeds me, presses my hand in token of thanks, flies to give orders relative to the warning he has received, and returns; we leave; when en route, I disclose the entire adventure to him, I recite mine and inform him of the unhappy circumstances in my life which have caused me to make the acquaintance of such a woman. This correct and sensible young man expresses the deepest gratitude for the service I have just so kindly rendered him, he takes an interest in my misfortunes, and proposes to alleviate them with the bestowal of his hand.

  “I am only too happy to be able to make you restitution for the wrongs fortune has done you, Mademoiselle,” says he; “I am my own master, dependent upon no one, I am going on to Geneva to make a considerable investment with the funds your timely warning has saved me from losing; accompany me to Switzerland; when we arrive there I shall become your husband and you will not appear in Lyon under any other title, or, if you prefer, Mademoiselle, if you have any misgivings, it will only be in my own country I will give you my name.”

  Such an offer, so very flattering, was one I dared not refuse; but it did not on the other hand become me to accept it without making Dubreuil aware of all that might cause him to repent it; he was grateful for my delicacy and only insisted the more urgently . . . unhappy creature that I was! ’twas necessary that happiness be offered me only in order that I be more deeply penetrated with grief at never being able to seize it! it was then ordained that no virtue could be born in my heart without preparing torments for me!

  Our conversation had already taken us two leagues from the city, and we were about to dismount in order to enjoy the fresh air along the bank of the Isere, when all of a sudden Dubreuil told me he felt very ill. . . . He got down, he was seized by dreadful vomitings; I had him climb into the carriage at once and we flew back posthaste to Grenoble. Dubreuil is so sick he has to be borne to his room; his condition startles his associate whom we find there and who, in accordance with instructions, has not stirred from the chamber; a doctor comes, Just Heaven! Dubreuil has been poisoned! I no sooner learn the fatal news than I dash to Dubois’ apartment; the infamous creature! she’s gone; I rush to my room, my armoire has been forced open, the little money and odds and ends I possess have been removed; Dubois, they tell me, left three hours ago in the direction of Turin. There was no doubt she was the author of this multitude of crimes; she had gone to Dubreuil’s door; annoyed to find his room occupied, she revenged herself upon me and had envenomed Dubreuil at dinner so that upon our return, if she had succeeded with her theft, that unhappy young man would be more busied with his own failing life than concerned to pursue her who had made off with his fortune and would let her fly in safety; the accident of his death, occurring, so to speak, while he was in my arms, would make me appear more suspect than herself; nothing directly informed us of the scheme she had contrived, but could it have been different?

  And then I rush back to Dubreuil’s room; I am not allowed to approach his bedside. “But why?” I demand and am given the reason: the poor man is expiring and is no longer occupied with anyone save his God. However, he exonerates me, he gives assurance of my innocence; he expressly forbids that I be pursued; he dies. Hardly has he closed his eyes when his associate hastens to bring me the news and begs me to be easy. Alas I how could I be? how was I not to weep bitterly for the loss of a man who had so generously offered to extricate me from misery! how was I not to deplore a theft which forced me back into the wretchedness whence I had only a moment before emerged! Frightful creature! I cried; if ’tis to this your principles lead you, is it any wonder they are abhorred and that honest folk punish them! But I was arguing from the injured party’s viewpoint and Dubois, who had only reaped happiness therefrom and saw nothing but her interest in what she had undertaken, Dubois, I say, had doubtless reached a very different conclusion.

  To Dubreuil’s associate, whose name was Valbois, I divulged everything, bot
h what had been concerted against the man we had lost and what had happened to me. He sympathized with me, most sincerely regretted Dubreuil and blamed the overly nice scruples which had prevented me from lodging a complaint instantly I had been advised of Dubois’ schemes; we agreed that this monster who needed but four hours to get to another country and security would arrive there before we would be able to organize her pursuit, that to follow her would involve considerable expense, that the inn-keeper, heavily compromised by the proceedings we would launch, by defending himself with vehemence might perhaps end by having me crushed, I . . . who seemed to be living in Grenoble as one who had missed the gallows by a hairsbreadth. These reasons convinced me and even terrified me to the point I resolved to leave the town without even saying farewell to my protector, Monsieur S——. Dubreuil’s friend approved the idea; he did not conceal from me that if the entire adventure were to be revealed he would be obliged to make depositions which, his precautions notwithstanding, would involve me as much by my intimacy with Dubreuil as in reason of my last outing with his friend; in the light of which he urged me to leave at once without a word to anyone, and I could be perfectly sure that, on his side, he would never take steps against me, whom he believed innocent, and, in all that had just occurred, whom he could only accuse of weakness.

  Upon pondering Valbois’ opinions, I recognized they were that much better the more certain it appeared I would be beheld with suspicion; the less my guilt, the wiser his suggestions; the one thing that spoke in my behalf, the recommendation I had made to Dubreuil at the outset of our promenade, which had, so they told me, been unsatisfactorily explained by the article of his death, would not appear so conclusive as I might hope; whereupon I promptly made my decision; I imparted it to Valbois.

  “Would,” said he, “that my friend had charged me with some dispositions favorable to you, I should carry out such requests with the greatest pleasure; I am sorry indeed he did not tell me ’twas to you he owed the advice to guard his room; but he said nothing of the sort, not a word did I have from him, and consequently I am obliged to limit myself to merely complying with his orders. What you have suffered by his loss would persuade me to do something in my own name were I able to, Mademoiselle, but I am just setting up in business, I am young, my fortune is not boundless, I am compelled to render an account of Dubreuil to his family and without delay; allow me then to confine myself to the one little service I beg you to accept: here are five louis and I have here as well an honest merchant from Chalon-sur-Saone, my native city; she is going to return there after a day and a night’s stop at Lyon where she is called by business matters; I put you into her keeping.”

  “Madame Bertrand,” Valbois continued, “here is the young lady I spoke of; I recommend her to you, she wishes to procure herself a situation. With the same earnestness which would apply were she my own sister, I beg you to take all possible steps to find something in our city which will be suitable to her person, her birth, and her upbringing; that until she is properly installed she incur no expense; do see to her requirements and I shall reimburse you immediately I am home.”

  Valbois besought me leave to embrace me. “Adieu, Mademoiselle,” he continued, “Madame Bertrand sets off tomorrow at daybreak; accompany her and may a little more happiness attend you in a city where I shall perhaps soon have the satisfaction of seeing you again.”

  The courtesy of this young man, who was in no sort indebted to me, brought tears to my eyes. Kind treatment is sweet indeed when for so long one has experienced naught but the most odious. I accepted his gifts, at the same time swearing I was going to work at nothing but to put myself in a way to be able someday to reciprocate. Alas! I thought as I retired, though the exercise of yet another virtue has just flung me into destitution, at least, for the first time in my life, the hope of consolation looms out of this appalling pit of evil into which Virtue has cast me again.

  The hour was not advanced; I needed a breath of air and so went down to the Isere embankment, desiring to stroll there for several instants; and, as almost always happens under similar circumstances, my thoughts, absorbing me entirely, led me far. Finding myself, at length, in an isolated place, I sat down, more leisurely to ponder. However, night descended before I thought to return; of a sudden I felt myself seized by three men: one clapped a hand over my mouth, the other two precipitated me into a carriage, climbed in, and for three full hours we sped along, during which time not one of these brigands deigned either to say a word to me or respond to any of my questions. The blinds were drawn down, I saw nothing; the carriage came to a halt before a house, gates swung wide, we entered, the gates clanged to immediately. My abductors pick me up, lead me through several unlit apartments, and finally leave me in one near which is a room wherein I perceive a light.

  “Stay here,” says one of my ravishers as he withdraws with his companions, “you’re soon going to see an old acquaintance.”

  And they disappear, carefully shutting all the doors. At almost the same time, that leading into the room where I had spied illumination is opened, and carrying a candle in her hand, I see emerge . . . oh, Madame, fancy who it was . . . Dubois . . . Dubois herself, that frightful monster, devoured, no question of it, by the most ardent desire to be revenged.

  “Hither, charming girl,” said she in an arrogant tone, “come here and receive the reward for the virtues in which you indulged yourself at my expense . . .” And angrily clutching my hand: “ . . . ah, you wretch I I’ll teach you to betray me!”

  “No, Madame, no,” I say in great haste, “I betrayed you not at all: inform yourself: I uttered not one word which could cause you any inquietude, no, I spoke not the least word which might compromise you.”

  “But did you not offer resistance to the crime I meditated? have you not thwarted its execution, worthless creature! You’ve got to be chastened. . . .”

  And, as we were entering, she had no time to say more. The apartment into which I was made to pass was lit with equal sumptuousness and magnificence; at the further end, reclining upon an ottoman, was a man of about forty, wearing a billowing taffeta dressing robe.

  “Monseigneur,” said Dubois, presenting me to him, “here is the young lady you wanted, she in whom all Grenoble has become interested . . . the celebrated Thérèse, to be brief, condemned to hang with the counterfeiters, then delivered thanks to her innocence and her virtue. Acknowledge that I serve you with skill, Monseigneur; not four days ago you evinced your extreme desire to immolate her to your passions; and today I put her into your hands; you will perhaps prefer her to that pretty little pensionnaire from the Benedictine convent at Lyon you also desired and who should be arriving any minute: the latter has her physical and moral integrity this one here has nothing but a sentimental chastity; but it is deep-grained in her being and nowhere will you find a creature more heavily ballasted with candor and honesty. They are both at your disposition, Monseigneur: you’ll either dispatch each this evening, or one today and the other tomorrow. As for myself, I am leaving you: your kindnesses in my regard engaged me to make you privy to my Grenoble adventure. One man dead, Monseigneur, one dead man; I must fly—”

  “Ah no, no, charming woman!” cried the master of the place; “no, stay, and fear nothing while you have my protection! You are as a soul unto my pleasures; you alone possess the art of exciting and satisfying them, and the more you multiply your crimes, the more the thought of you inflames my mind. . . . But this Thérèse is a pretty thing. . . .” and addressing himself to me: “what is your age, my child?”

  “Twenty-six, Monseigneur,” I replied, “and much grief.”

  “Ha, yes, grief indeed, lots of distress, excellent, I’m familiar with all that, hugely amusing, just what I like; we’re going to straighten everything out, we’ll put a stop to these tumbles; I guarantee you that in twenty-four hours you’ll be unhappy no longer, ha! . . .” and, with that, dreadful flights of laughter . . .“’tis t
rue, eh, Dubois? I’ve a sure method for ending a young girl’s misfortunes, haven’t I?”

  “Indeed you do,” the odious creature replied; “and if Thérèse weren’t a friend of mine, I’d never have brought her to you; but it is only fair I reward her for what she did for me. You’d never imagine how useful this dear thing was to me during my latest enterprise at Grenoble; you, Monseigneur, have had the kindness to accept my expression of gratitude, and, I pray you, repay what I owe her with interest.”

  The opaque ambiguity of these phrases, what Dubois had said to me upon entering, the species of gentleman with whom I had to do, this other girl whose forthcoming appearance had been announced, all this instantly troubled my imagination to a degree it would be difficult to describe. A cold sweat seeped from my pores and I was about to fall in a swoon—’twas at that instant this man’s projects finally became clear to me. He calls me to him, begins with two or three kisses whereby our mouths are obliged to unite; he seeks my tongue, finds and sucks it and his, running deep into my throat, seems to be pumping the very breath from my lungs. He has me bend my head upon his chest, he lifts my hair and closely observes the nape of my neck.

  “Oh, ’tis delicious!” he cries, squeezing it vigorously; “I’ve never seen one so nicely attached; ‘twill be divine to make it jump free.”