Ghislaine had literally bewitched Jerome Lazart. He had been dancing with her all the time and had seen she was as much engrossed by his charms as he was with hers. But this was a pure feeling in her, whereas Jerome felt terribly excited…
«I wish to Heaven Myriam told the truth and that her scheme won't fail… Ah! to hold that girl in my arms, at my mercy… Kozincko's own daughter! That would be too good to be true, I'd give ten years of my life..!»
Jerome as all people endowed with a vivid imagination was lavish on the days to come. Yet in case Myriam should fail he was trying to think out a scheme of his own. Why should Myriam give him Ghislaine..? They were intimate… Was there some jealousy?.. Some unknown reason..?
Jerome was musing thus when Myriam came to him.
Their conversation was short but edifying.
«Do you want to fuck Ghislaine?»
Though astounded at the question Jerome managed to gasp a delighted: «Yes!» and added a piteous: «But!..»
«Don't be shilly-shallying, either you do or you don't. If you don't it'll have to be somebody else!
«No, I'd much rather it was me..!
«Good, follow me, I'm taking you to a quiet room, Ghislaine will come… But you'll have to force her… Don't imagine she'll let you otherwise… besides I'll help you.
«I'm sure I can manage her alone…
«You'll do what I tell you or nothing.»
Her tone surprised him. Her eyes glinted fiercely.
«All right, he agreed, I suppose you must take your pleasure too.»
She didn't answer and led him away.
They crossed the crowded room. As soon as they were in the lobby, Jerome asked:
«Do you think she'll come?
«I don't think, I'm sure… I don't need to ask her…»
As a matter of fact she was doing her best to let Ghislaine see her with Jerome, and she succeeded wonderfully.
Ghislaine was watching from the tail of her eye, not knowing Jerome was the lover Myriam had so often told her about. When she saw him following her friend she thought bitterly:
«The little bitch! I know what she's at… She wants to take him away from me… She's jealous… But I won't let her..!»
She followed them and saw they were going (to the right) wing of the manor.
«And they're making for my room! The cheek of it!!!»
She waited a few minutes then ran into the lobby, her fairy dress making a white spot in the dark…
— His eyes riveted to the magnifying pane, Kozincko was waiting, wondering what Myriam was up to. He was astonished at his mistress' quick change, he had known her a pure child, now she was a woman obsessed by everything that concerned physical love. He knew he was responsible for it.
And, for the first time, he felt such responsibility was heavy…
How long would their passion last? what would become of her when he would grow weary or when she would be worn out by her debauches?
Kozincko refused to consider the facts. He was living in the present… He loved Myriam so much he had even thought of marrying her.
Then, he saw a musqueteer entering the room below with Myriam. What business had Myriam to be there with unknown fellow who had been dancing with his own daughter all through the evening? He felt vaguely anxious and wished he could ask for a few explanations. His anxiety heightened when he saw the musqueteer composedly peeling off, keeping absolutely nothing on to conceal a fine, tanned, muscular, body. Meanwhile Myriam seemed to be waiting for somebody… Suddenly he started. The door had opened, a white shape..! Nicolas gasped: Ghislaine..! His daughter! He understood and reeled under the blow.
— As soon as she entered the room Ghislaine felt a gag on her mouth, her hands were tied behind her back.
She stared in amazement at Myriam, at «her» musqueteer stark naked, whose pecker was twitching with expectant delight…
Before she could understand, she was tumbled back on the bed, which had seen Myriam's defeat and would see her own presently. Myriam thrust back the fairy dress, exposing the treasures of a body she knew well the sender shapely legs, the smooth thighs, the palpitating flat belly heaving under its laces.
They heard a roar above. Nicolas was locked up there, and would witness helplessly the rape of his own daughter, faithfully similar to the one he had committed in that same room a few months ago.
Myriam smiled:
«Listen to this, your father is locked in the room above and he can see you… Yet he'll roar louder when you'll be fucked as I have been… And the best is, this young gentleman is my lover… whom I told you about often… almost every night… You believed in love, poor dear!.. When he will wound you, sully you, as your father wounded me, debased me, here on that same bed… When you'll feel his hands mauling your tender flesh, when you'll feel him ramming it up your cute little cunt, and pounding at you like a bull, when you'll feel the rush of pleasure into your flesh when you'll be lost in what they call volupty.. Then you'll know what love… what beautiful… what divine, what pure thing love is… Oh the humbug of it! the shame of it!..
Myriam was sobbing these words. She tore off the top of Ghislaine's dress, baring her pointed breasts, fondling them with impotent rage…
«Your fine, your pure body, I want you to become what I am..!»
She panted with exasperation. Meanwhile Jerome who was past listening, couldn't take his eyes from the magnificent body wriggling with fear and shame within arm's reach… He was going to get that girl Ghislaine, the pure daughter of a man whose trade it was to sell and buy other women… It was a divine piece of mischief… He was instrumental to Fate's designs. He would gratify his appetite, he would revenge Myriam, he would revenge himself on the man who had been his enemy in trade as well as in love.
Intoxicated with joy, he flattened on top of Ghislaine. Myriam stopped him:
«Wait! I want her to know everything, I want her to know it's not out of jealousy or vice I throw her to you, I want her to understand it's my revenge on her father…»
She pointed at the ceiling:
«Your father is above… He can see you… And he knows he's responsible for all this..!»
Then she told Ghislaine everything… who her father was, what kind of life he lived, what his trade was, how he used his fortune…
Ghislaine had closed her eyes and was silently crying.
Kozincko was howling with pain and he hammered vainly at the door… he was caught. He would have to live it down to the end…
«Do you understand now… now… cried Myriam… I wanted some happiness, some love just a little… And I've only met with debauch and brutish desires… They have profited by my youth, be my beauty… Your father is paying for it now in your body my Ghislaine, my sweet pure little Ghislaine.
She shook her frail fist at the ceiling:
Now look, look hard..!»
She weighed on Ghislaine's shoulders:
«Take her, Jerome, take her… Hurt her!»
Jerome was white with pent up desire. He stood naked, powerful and impudent as a god.
Slowly he opened up Ghislaine's thighs. He laid his hands on her small heaving belly, wrenched the flimsy triangle that protected her sex. He looked dazedly at this lovely cunt. Then he pushed his prick against her crack, it was burning and quivering. Ghislaine tried to free herself, to escape… too late! Jerome pierced in, pushing it in with a vengeance. She arched back, her whole body thrilled under the shove, a raucous cry fused under her gag. Then she fell back as broken puppet, while Jerome fucked away for dear life.
A frightful roar of pain had come from the room above. Myriam listened very white about the lips. Then she kissed her victim in the lids:
«Forgive me Ghislaine, I didn't know a revenge could hurt so much!..
«Adieu!.. She ran away.»
— Dawn was already touching the woods with silver lights. Fantastic shadows receded in to the brakes.
On the lake, the last stars flickered out. Somewhere birds were waking. In that serene scenery a light shape wandered… was it a fairy? was it Cinderella hurrying back to her cottage?
The shadow ran, stopped, and fled like a will o' the wisp.
Myriam was crying.
«Why did I do such a thing..? Why..? Poor Ghislaine… Poor darling… Her revenge had been to much to bear. She understood how filthy and brutish it had been.»
Love didn't exist, nor beauty… There was nothing left to hope for, to live for…
Myriam was sobbing. She was obsessed by her craving for purity. She longed to wash away all stains on her body and soul… She was running to the lake… nothing any longer mattered… utterly hopeless she ran to end her life where her miseries had started on a fine sunny afternoon.
She had almost reached the bank when she heard somebody running, running after her. It was a man. Was it Kozincko? she shuddered. She tried to escape, he was too quick for her.
It was Freddy.
«So this is the way you keep your promises? If I hadn't spotted you, you'd be far by now!»
Myriam was silent. Freddy seized her hands.
«I suppose I'll have to help myself..?»
Myriam freed herself, tried to flee. He caught her in two strides.
«You bitch! You won't get Me! You owe me something and you'll pay! He tumbled her on the moth, pushed three fingers inside her and began whipping it up. She was struggling, scratching. With his other hand he slapped her face masterfully.
«I'll teach you how I deal with such bitches as your likes!»
I told you I'd fuck you and I'll do it. You're going to feel something; I'll make it come out of your mouth you silly cunt!
Myriam yielded: what did it matter now?.. He was stroking her breasts and whispered thickly:
«You're not a virgin, still it must be god…»
He slipped the tip of it in between her lips:
God! What a warm cunt, I don't wonder Kozincko is crazy on you.
He rammed it up the whole way up with a groan of pleasure, it was so brutal it felt as if something had given way in her womb, she wailed.
«It's less comfortable than a bed but it makes a lovely country scene! He was panting on top of her moving in and out as fast as he could. Suddenly in spite of herself Myriam felt the surge of pleasure heaving her up. She arched her loins, threw her legs up to feel him coming deeper:
«You little bitch! you like it, don't you! don't you!»
He was fucking at her with all his might. When the… psychological moment came she instinctively recoiled. But he clung to her and sneered:
«No my dear! With me it's everything or nothing, and God! I'd be sorry not to shoot it all off into your lovely twat..!»
— She fled as soon as he released her, he laughed:
«I wish you a pleasant journey, be ware of strangers…»
— Myriam cried long on the water's edge. She cried over her spoiled youth, her useless beauty, on her dreams, on men's vileness, on her own wickedness.
Then she rose in her Cinderella dress, and walked into the icy waters. She walked as in a dream, entranced. Her dress floated about her as an opalescent blossom sinking in to the glancing mirror of the lake as the sun rose.
Love's frail Cinderella would die to find again peace and purity.