Choisy decided that, to conquer Miss de la Grise, he would need Lisette's complicity and help, and, being a good psychologist, he guessed that she would make no objection.
— How old is she? he asked Lisette.
— Sixteen, I think.
— And has she any marriage plans?
Lisette had a mischievous smile which suited her personality of pert but attractive hussy.
— There is some talk about a marriage with — With whom? asked Choisy negligently.
— Never mind, Miss de la Grise does not seem too keen on getting engaged to him.
— Then I gather he is not very handsome, said Choisy.
Lisette laughed and started unbuttoning Choisy's fly.
— You would not want him for a man, would you, for instance? he asked. — Not for my weight in gold, Lisette answered, releasing the big bad wolf from its prison.
— And yet you accepted your Nicholas, Choisy observed.
Lisette shrugged her shoulders.
— My Nicholas-I had to marry him to give my brat a father-but you can have him.
— And what would I do with him? Choisy answered, laughing nervously for Lisette was doing things to him with her hand. But let's come back to our little lamb.
— You'd better be careful with her, she's a sly one.
Choisy wiped his sperm with a careless gesture and a handkerchief.
— All I want from her is a pair of breasts like yours and a deep burrow for my greedy rabbit.
— Your rabbit is fond of new dishes, Lisette remarked, letting Choisy's hand grope under her skirt, yet haven't I given it a good enough home?
She sighed. Choisy's hand had found its target.
— Well, I'll do as you say, she said.
— You shall be well rewarded, he told her, and went on rubbing.
He saw that Lisette was not really jealous. On the contrary she seemed to enjoy this plot-he had realized it from the spark in her eyes as soon as he had mentioned his project to her. She would certainly second him to the best of her ability.
— We shall have to have her come here, suggested Lisette, wetting her petticoat, and we must make it as comfortable as possible, let her relax, and then, when she trusts you and is no longer so shy, you can judge the best moment to show your hand, but don't be too hasty or it would spoil everything.
— I shall follow your valuable advice, Choisy said. Tomorrow I shall send Bouju with a formal invitation.
— Yes, said Lisette, we shall have to do things in style for those kind of people like to show off and are sensitive to the trimmings.
But Choisy did not hear her, for his head was covered up by her petticoat, as he was busily wiping her clean with his tongue.
When he came up again, like a surfacing submarine, he asked:
— By the way, what's her name?
— Angela-didn't you know?
— It suits her to a T.
Five days later, the countess of Barres received in her house, finely decorated with beautiful flowers, the cream of the local aristocracy, which of course included the marchioness de la Grise and her daughter Angela, and of course Mr. and Mrs. du Plan.
The countess of Barres had tea served in fine porcelain. She had put her best dress on and her hair was coiffured exquisitely, thanks to the clever ringers of Lisette, her faithful maid. They all complimented her on her garden, her clothes, everything.
— If I had a son, said Mrs. du Plan, I would like him to marry you.
— Oh, dear, Choisy answered, he would not make a good bargain.
— And why, pray? said Mrs. du Plan, you are a widow, pretty and rather well-off. Does the remembrance of your former marriage blind you to the truth?
— It has made me difficult to please.
At the thought of her imaginary husband, the countess took on a pensive attitude.
— Mr. des Barres, Choisy went on, is a husband difficult to replace. You know, madam, I think I should prefer to find for myself a lady companion.
— A lady companion! exclaimed Mrs. du Plan, surprised, but — Is there anything better than feminine intimacy? asked Choisy, and he looked at her in such a way that she felt rather troubled.
— Yes, Choisy pursued, a young person who would be a sister to me.
— I see you are a very… reserved person, Mrs. du Plan answered, and Choisy discerned a note of disappointment in her tone, and it gave him time to think.
— Aren't joys of the heart better than all the others? he said.
That remark brought some confusion in the mind of Mrs. du Plan. But now Choisy was no longer heeding her. He was instead observing Angela de la Grise and what he saw pleased him. She was eating the delicacies he had prepared for his guests with as much relish as a cat drinking creamed milk. Choisy concluded that she must be sensual and that thought filled him with pleasure.
He took her to the garden and made her admire the look and the scent of his best roses.
— Look at these petals, he said, haven't they the softness of a woman's skin?
Angela blushed, which made her still more attractive.
— I wouldn't know, madam Choisy took her hand in his own and caressed it absently.
— Now, try-you'll see there is no difference.
Angela turned-away blushing and, pointing at a yellow rose, asked:
— And this one?
— This one has a Chinese origin, but its touch is the same.
She gave a little nervous titter, and Choisy deemed best not to insist for this time.