The following morning, Choisy narrated everything to Lisette as she was nestling in his bed.
— I think I am not mistaken in judging Angela capable of contenting a man, and even keen to do so.
— See that you don't hurry! counseled Lisette.
Choisy undressed her and put his body against her.
— I am never in a hurry, he said, I can bide my time and choose the right moment. But you're not jealous, by any chance?
Lisette did not answer, for her thoughts were elsewhere, or rather she was not thinking about anything in particular. Her senses had taken hold of her and she let herself be transported in the realm of sensuality. Choisy caressed her pussy in such a way that she sighed with enjoyment and she searched in the dark for his big prick and soon found it and imprisoned it in her warm sweating hand. And her twat moistened at this thrilling touch that held so much voluptuousness in store for her. And he gave it to her, just as she wanted, and her enjoyment was a pleasure to behold.
During a pause in their fucking spree, they took up the thread of their plot.
— If Mrs. du Plan knew what you really are, the bailiff would again be cuckolded, said Lisette.
— He already looks like a born cuckold, remarked Choisy, and, as for her, she's a choice morsel but, although I have gone after two hares several times in the past, I feel that here it would be a mistake.
— You're right, but aren't you afraid that after you have taken the young Angela de la Grise they will force you to marry her.
— Oh, dear, if I'd had to marry all the virgins I've had, I'd be in possession of a seraglio like the Great Turk.
That simile amused Lisette very much, and she felt disposed to replace a whole seraglio with such an amiable and amorous Turk. She opened her cunt to him again, and they had another go. Then he sucked her off good and proper. And she reciprocated, and jolly good at it she was, too! And she took it all in her mouth, and immediately afterwards she kissed him so he could taste his own sap mixed with her saliva.
A few days later, the countess of Barres rode in her gig to visit the bailiff's wife, where she exchanged a few courtesies. She then rode on to the marchioness of la Grise who was flattered by the countess's visit, the more so as it was quite unexpected. She called her daughter who appeared dressed in a light summer skirt and blouse, a delightful sight, so sincere and youthful.
After a few commonplaces, the countess of Barres hazarded a leading suggestion:
— Miss Angela seems a little pale, he said.
In fact, her cheeks were blooming with good health.
— What she needs is the invigorating country air, he went on, why wouldn't she come and spend a few days at Crepon? I am sure it would do her a lot of good.
— You would be kind enough to have my daughter as your guest for a few days? said the marchioness, beaming.
— I shall be very pleased, Choisy assured her.
— But that will cause you a lot of trouble.
— You mean a lot of pleasure, amended Choisy politely.
And Choisy was sincere. Mrs. de la Grise, out of principle, accepted the invitation for two days later only, as she did not want to appear too eager. So it was agreed that the countess of Barres would come and pick up Angela in her gig.
Choisy, back home, broke the happy news to Lisette.
— The poor girl, he said, was so upset that she was struck dumb.
— Don't be too hasty with her, though, Lisette advised.
— I'll hasten slowly, he assured her, but you be careful not to put your foot in it.
Lisette scraped a mock bow and answered:
— Madam will be satisfied with my services.
Then she took off her chemise-which was the only garment she was wearing at the time-threw it in a ball at Choisy's head and flung herself on him with sexual frenzy. She had been conquered by him and she adored him even though he was coveting a young virgin.
She held him close to her and bit his shoulder to excite him. But he needed no encouragement and his cock was ready for its work-if you can call it work. It penetrated with as much ease as a sharp knife into butter on a hot summer day, and when it came out it was a soggy red mess, as Lisette had started having her monthlies.
Two days later, the countess of Barres (Choisy) came to fetch the young la Grise. Her mother gave her the usual last-minute recommendations as it was the first time she was separated from her dear daughter.
During the trip by coach, Angela cried a little but Choisy patted her hand affectionately and comforted her with tender words.
When they arrived Lisette busied herself at once to make Angela feel at home.
The following morning, Lisette went into Choisy's bedroom, slipped into his bed and soon woke up his drowsing senses with direct caresses. Then, when she had had her fill of caresses (but no fucking, alas, for she now had her menses), she gave him a few indications on Angela.
— Last night I helped her undress and tucked her in, and I daresay she is a little thin.
— You will have to prepare hearty meals for her, said Choisy.
— It will take some time for her breasts to fill up. At her age, mine had already grown pretty much.
Angela was treated like a princess. The countess of Barres did her very best to entertain her-he took her for walks, and together they plucked flowers, read the verses of Ronsard and played some music. Gradually Angela was losing her shyness. She was naturally gay and soon she was laughing and singing.
— You've been married, she asked the countess of Barres, is it pleasant to be married?
— That all depends on the husband, Choisy answered. As far as I am concerned I like it so much that I want to rest on my souvenirs.
— So you have no intention of marrying again?
— Yes, perhaps, with you.
Angela was moved by this act of friendship and spontaneously kissed Choisy. Then she was quite astonished by her own boldness.
— When one is married, one sleeps in the same bed together, isn't that right? she asked naively.
— By right, Choisy answered.
— And, after supper, he asked her:
— Shall we get married tonight?
This offer filled her with glee and she followed Choisy to his room, and even let him help her off with her clothes. She slipped into the bed, where Choisy joined her, after having extinguished all but one small candle.
On that first night, Choisy caressed her but little for he did not wish to risk frightening her. Slow but surely was his motto, or, as they said in Venice, “chi va piano va sano.”
On the second night he went a little further and made her come with his fingers.
On the third night he went further still and he practically raped her without her realizing what he had actually done, and she still took him to be a woman, (but a really strange woman, she could not help thinking). She was still a child, but was gradually becoming a woman, and that is the age when girls are at their most responsive to influences. She loved caresses, and was thrilled by them, but she did not realize that she was committing a sin. It came naturally to her and, giving her body, she imagined she was just giving her heart. So she was perverted and innocent at the same time. And that sort of thing occurs quite often in youth. She loved the countess of Barres for having been the first to teach her what love really meant and for having opened up unknown vistas of voluptuousness to her, such as she had never dreamed could exist. That is all the art of seducing and in that the seducer is much superior to the husband who opens the “door” with force because he knows he has the legal right to do so. The seducer gradually has the door open without the occupant realizing it-or realizing it too late-always pleased and never shocked. And, needless to say, Choisy was a past master in the art of seducing women-young and old, fat and thin, duchesses or maids-of-all work.
Angela was getting to like her night games more and more. She found that the countess was a matchless companion who had discovered all the possible pleasure that one can get out of one's body, and thought that it was not a reprehensible thing since nature had seen to it that we should all be provided with such senses. On the contrary, she reflected, we should make the best of what we have. Quite innocently, she told Lisette all about her experiences.
— I thought that in bed one could do nothing but sleep, but the countess has taught me that one could do many pleasant things in bed.
— What will it be, then, when you are in bed with your husband! exclaimed Lisette.
— But the countess of Barres is my husband, isn't she?
— Yes and no, Lisette answered, embarrassed.
— What would be the difference if I were married with that Mr. Balisier?
— He is a councilor, isn't he? asked Lisette, avoiding Angela's question by asking one of her own.
— Yes, something like that, and mother finds him a very important person.
With diplomacy Lisette contrived to avoid answering questions about the precise things Choisy did at night with Angela and the latter, after her long conversation with Lisette, found she had learned nothing.
And Lisette thought with wonder about Choisy:
— What a cunning man he is! He has finally obtained what he wanted, and much faster than I imagined. And in what way, too!
But, as Choisy was far from neglecting Lisette where lovemaking was concerned, he got out of her an esteem and an aid greater than ever. Lisette thought that since Choisy was a man capable of behaving amorously with two mistresses, she had nothing to complain about. If only all women had her philosophy, the world would be a quieter place.
The affair could have lasted indefinitely if Mrs. de la Grise had not felt sad about her daughter's absence. So, one day, without warning, she arrived at Crepon to spend an afternoon with Angela.
The first she saw of her daughter was as she was in the garden walking with the countess of Barres who was holding her in a rather tender embrace. Mrs. de la Grise was struck by the expression on her daughter's face: she seemed very happy and excited at the same time. As she remarked upon it, Choisy said it must be the healthy country air.
— There is something new in Angela, something I can't define, said Mrs. de la Grise.
— I do my best so that she should feel happy at Crepon. Isn't it a replica of the Garden of Eden? Choisy said.
Angela, blushing, approved. Choisy called Lisette and told her to prepare a specially fine meal for his new guest for the day.
They had a good lunch with pleasantness all round and everybody happy. Then the evening came and it was time for Mrs. de la Grise to go back home. She ordered her phaeton to be ready, she had granted that her daughter should stay one more week at Crepon and the time came for Angela to kiss her mother good-bye. Choisy had imprudently left them both together.
— Thank you, mother, said Angela with rapture, the countess is so good to me and she knows so well how to please me, even at night.
— Even at night? exclaimed the marchioness, raising her eyebrows.
— We're married, you know, Angela said, innocently, in the way of explanation.
— The countess was married once, but you are not, answered the marchioness.
— Isn't that the same?
— No: two persons of the same sex cannot marry each other.
— And why on earth not?
— Marriage is a grave engagement and it has, well, certain obligations — But, mother, I go to bed with the countess as if with a husband.
— You never told me that before, and I certainly don't approve, said Mrs. de la Grise sternly.
— But we don't do any harm-on the contrary.
— What do you mean-on the contrary?
Mrs. de la Grise took her daughter apart and questioned her further.
— Explain yourself, she ordered, did she dare touch you? Did she do any reprehensible things with you?
— Reprehensible? I wouldn't know about that. She caresses me all along my body-and I just love it.
The marchioness started and looked attentively at her daughter. So, she thought, that is what has caused her to look so beaming with prosperity. She gave a brisk order:
— Go into the phaeton, I'm taking you home.
— But why? — I don't have to give you any reason.
Angela, frightened by the sudden abruptness of her mother, started crying. Choisy, who had witnessed the scene from afar, came up to them.
— Are you taking your daughter back, madam? Yet she likes it so much here.
— She likes it even too much, madam, and I want to nip in the bud certain scandalous effusions, she said, then, putting her head out of the window of the phaeton, she ejaculated, “I know now why you are not eager to marry again. But if you want to deprave somebody, you had better choose somebody else than my daughter.”
— Go! she ordered to the coachman, we have no more business in this house.
The driver touched up the horses and the phaeton started before Choisy had time to put in a protest. It would have been fruitless in any case.
Lisette had heard nothing but instinctively guessed what was afoot.
— What made the marchioness fly off the handle? she asked, knowing the answer.
— Bah! Choisy answered. Angela foolishly talked too much.
Then he made a sweeping gesture of impatience with the long sleeve of his dress and concluded philosophically:
— There are many pebbles on the beach.
— I am still at your service, madam, Lisette remarked in a mock tone.
Choisy reflected on the possible consequences of the sudden turn of events. Lisette suggested he should send Bouju to gather information but Choisy was averse to mixing his valet into his personal business and even declined Lisette's offer to act as a spy.
— No, he decided. I shall go myself, and map out a plan to counter-attack at the first opportunity.
So, the next day he went to Bourges in his gig and his first visit was to the bailiff. The latter being absent, Choisy was received by his wife.
— Your visit is unexpected, but opportune, she declared, I am very glad to see you.
— Thank you, madam, said Choisy, gracefully sitting on the proffered armchair.
— Has the Crepon air suddenly turned unhealthy? asked Mrs. du Plan abruptly, not bothering about preliminaries, so great was her curiosity. They are saying in town that Mrs. de la Grise suddenly brought back her daughter from Crepon.
— I wonder why she did that, Choisy answered, feigning surprise, and I must say I've come here chiefly to find out the answer to this riddle.
— You should know the answer better than I do! she replied.
— I assure you I know nothing.
— I've even been told that the marchioness has taken her daughter to the convent of Les Pres.
— Is it far from here? Choisy asked.
— Why? would you want to abduct her from there? she asked ironically.
— Of course not, but I would like an explanation with the marchioness.
— You will have to wait till she comes back. That won't be before night-fall for the convent is about four leagues away.
Choisy now knew enough. He stayed a while longer talking about other subjects, for decorum's sake, and Mrs. du Plan did her best to worm the truth out of him, and later in the course of the conversation, he brought the subject back to the burning question.
— Miss Angela was really very inquisitive, he said, she made me blush at times with some questions she asked me. After all, it is not up to me to give her tuition on a certain subject, is it?
— Her husband will deal with that, his hostess answered, adding: if, of course, she ever finds herself one, after this story!
Choisy felt like exclaiming “touche!” but refrained discreetly and took his leave, going directly back home, as he did not feel like staying in this town any longer, now that it was definitely hostile to him. He wondered if it would be worth while trying to gain back the good favours of that boring town, and finally estimated it as an impossible task.
What would he do? Wait till the scandal blew over? Scandal is very hard to die in provincial towns, he decided. Unless perhaps-“yes, that's it,” he thought he had found the right countermove. He would form in Crepon an elegant society who would make the provincial people of Bourges green with envy.
But, having slept on the idea, he found what he thought was a better one when he woke up the following morning. He ordered that one should prepare everything for his departure, the news of which he would later apprise the town of Bourges by letter, for he had still a few business matters to settle. Then he dressed as a man and travelled with Bouju riding normally on a horse, not sidesaddle.
Talking of side-saddle reminded Choisy of a funny story an English lady had once told him between two bouts of love-making. Asked whether she rode side-saddle or long-saddle, she replied glibly.
— Oh, it's as broad as it is long.
It was a pity bicycles were not invented at the time Choisy lived, or else he might have been laughing at this other funny story: “a young lady, having been given a ride on a bicycle by a young man was very embarrassed when she dismounted, on discovering that the bike was a woman's model.”
But let's come back to Choisy. He was riding slowly as he did not want to arrive at the convent of Les Pres before sunset. When he arrived there he reconnoitered the place, then knocked on the door and a sister opened it.
— Sister, I am a rider, lost in this unknown region and I am begging for a shelter for my valet and myself till dawn tomorrow, he said.
The sister took pity and said she would ask the abbess for permission.
— I am Mr. de Sancy, declared Choisy, perhaps this name will reassure her.
Soon after, the door was opened and an aged gardener led Bouju and the horses to the stable while Choisy was ushered into the abbess's parlour. She looked about forty years old, with a flourishing complexion and a healthy plumpness.
— Mr. de Sancy? she said, the name is not unknown to me — I usually reside in Paris, but I travel a lot, Choisy explained.
— Don't you live in the Faubourg St-Marceau in Paris? I think I can remember a lady named Mrs. de Sancy who was very charitable.
— Indeed, she's my wife.
— But her husband was unknown.
— The reason for that was that I nearly always away on trip.
— And how is Mrs. de Sancy? the abbess inquired politely.
— Last time I saw her she was in fine health, Choisy said, laughing inwardly at the huge joke it all was.
That Mrs. de Sancy was a figment of Choisy's imagination. Before calling himself countess of Barres, he had been Mrs. de Sancy and had inhabited the Faubourg Saint Marceau under this personality and had led a joyous life, but he had given much to charity in order to allay the gossipers' evil tongues.
He did not, of course, tell the truth to the abbess, but, seeing that she was interested, he talked for a long while about his travels in Holland, in Berlin and in Venice, naturally hiding the ribald parts. The abbess listened with delight to Choisy's recital of his would-be adventures which opened up new horizons for her, penned up as she was between the four walls of the convent.
— You must be feeling sorry for us for the motionless trite life we are living, she told Choisy with a sigh.
— No, I don't, replied Choisy, and I must add that I even envy you. True, your universe is limited but you in particular have the responsibility over souls. Your task must be complicated at times. Have you ever had any difficult incident with your black sheep?
— I do my best to show them the right way, the abbess answered diplomatically.
Choisy was hoping she would have mentioned the case of Angela de la Grise, but however hard he tried to bring her into the conversation by a roundabout way, he failed to get any information about her and, as he was not supposed to know the people of the province around the convent, he did not insist-he retired to his room after having partaken of a proffered snack.
He did not go to bed, but instead, remained dressed and watchful. As soon as he heard no noise, he left his room silently and wandered along the corridors. But how was he to find where Angela de la Grise was?
He went so far as opening doors without a noise, but, among the prostrate bodies sound asleep, he could not make out the girl he was looking for.
Having decided to go back to his room disappointed he suddenly found a room from where a ray of light was filtering. Through the keyhole he saw a woman dressed in a night-gown who was kneeling by her bed.
Silently-but not silently enough-he opened the door. The woman stopped her prayer and opened her eyes wide with fright for a moment, then covered them with her hands and said in a trembling voice:
— Please don't hurt me! I knew you would be coming-I had a warning. I am in a state of sin. Dictate your orders.
Choisy came nearer. The sinner hid her face in her bed. Her nightgown revealed fleshy appetising shapes. Choisy yielded to the temptation of touching them with his hands and the body shuddered. With a light hand he discovered and even explored. Yes, he was really expected and it would have been offending Satan to leave this flesh in an uncontented state.
So he deftly took out his prick and applied it between the two orbs that faced him. He found the aperture, all moist and warm, and went in. It was the first time he had fucked a girl whose face was hidden in the bedsheets and whom he had not previously kissed. It was quite thrilling for him to act this part of the devil-for the girl thought he was being sent by Satan to punish her.
But actually, the girl seemed to enjoy her “punishment.” Choisy was excited by the odour of clean-laundered bed-sheets and the unperfumed body-odeur of the girl who was perspiring abundantly through fear and more and more through enjoyment.
After he had come twice, he went away silently and the girl remained kneeling, with her face still hidden and her backside “in the air.”
Choisy could not find his way back to his room, so he ended up in the stable where he slept the rest of the night, wondering whether the girl he had fucked was pretty or not, for he had not seen her face! He would probably never know.
When dawn came, he woke up Bouju who harnessed the horses, gave a large tip to the gardener and left the convent.
Choisy philosophically and wisely reflected that it was probably a good thing that he had failed to find Angela de la Grise, thus putting an end to his plan to abduct her. He estimated that the convent of Les Pres had given him a good enough souvenir that deserved a good place in his love annals.
Anyway, it was only a small sin. The charity of the flesh is a charity like the others and the charitable one is rewarded from the fact that love is accomplished with more frenetic passion by women who have been long deprived of it.
Choisy's adventure at the convent of Les Pres was far from being an exception. We know of the orgies organized by Casanova and the Cardinal of Bemis at the Carmelites of Murano, near Venice. Saint-Simon, in his Memoirs, tells that there was an open war between two aristocratic convents of Paris to decide which of the two would produce the girl who was to become the official mistress of the new nuncio. The prelates' choice fell upon a canoness of Remiremont. The same canoness was to become a few days later the mistress of the king Louis XIV for a few days. Public opinion took both these incidents in a different way. They approved of the nuncio's choice of the canoness, and would have thought it a scandal had he chosen for his mistress a woman who would not have belonged to the Church. But, for the king, it was feared that, a scandal would break out from his taking as his favourite a canoness. The religious point of view, like many others, differs according to the onlooker.
Choisy's point of view was elementary. He belonged, as we know, to the Church, and he took smilingly his pleasure where Providence-this religious aspect of destiny-showed it to him. Thus, for instance, he had gone to the convent of Les Pres with the intention of abducting the naive and lean Miss de la Grise. God preserved him from this ravishment for which he would have been indicted before the Supreme Court of Paris. But Providence was there to place in his path the good fortune of an undreamt of opportunity to satisfy his carnal hunger. The penitent was hiding her face but leaving the rest uncovered, appetising and comfortable. Choisy found how comfortable her shapes were by running his expert hands around them. He knew nothing of his partner, not even whether she was fair-haired, dark-haired or a red-head. But the enigma which he would never decipher made his pleasure more acute and he imparted a diabolical voluptuousness on this penitent who was offering to God what she thought men did not want any longer. That is generally the origin of penance. Choisy proved the contrary to her and made happy this woman about whom he knew nothing and whose face and smile he would never behold. And as he left her contented and sighing with bliss on her rough bed she wondered, intrigued rather than worried, whether she had been penetrated by the organ of a lover or the finger of God.
Did not the same thing happen to Miss de Montmorency-Boutteville, whom the duke of Chatillon abducted from the convent of Saint-Blaise to marry her, after having taken on the spot an installment on a wedding-night? Then, six months later, after he was killed in one of the battles waged at that time between princes, wasn't it the same thing that happened again at the convent of Chaumont where the widow who had entered this convent disconsolately, gave way to the duke of Nemours in her cell and became his ardent and romantic mistress?