Clorinde gave Choisy a very extended gamut of pleasurable feelings. Her inborn faculties were used with a knowledge, experience and ingenuity that made her one of the best mistresses Choisy had ever had.
She aroused envy in all the female members of the troupe and Choisy could have dropped his handkerchief in front of any of them and she would at once have accepted him with alacrity, zest and gusto.
But Clorinde was watchful and she would never have allowed her wonderful lover to be taken away from her. She would have suffered too much, in her flesh as well as in her dignity, for she had rarely if ever had, in her abundant amorous career, a lover that filled her so much with voluptuous feelings, with skill as well as vim. And she gave back to him all she had got. Whenever she thought about it-and she had little leisure for thinking-she enumerated mentally all the overs she had had, and came to the conclusion that Choisy was number one. She had lost her maidenhead at the age of fifteen with an apprentice hairdresser, and had never looked back. She recalled the handsome captain of dragoons, the witty canon, the brutal financier- none of them was a match on Choisy. They had shown their generosity in sap or in gold, and they often had some luxurious exigencies which she had not denied them. But none equaled this demon of Choisy, with his face like that of a mischievous child and his body comparable to that of a woman, except for one detail-but of importance! — and his aristocratic manners, his so effective ways and, last but not least, his physical resistance. She always left his arms aching all over with fatigue, but delighted.
The other actresses of the troupe tried to attract Choisy's attention by walking with a wiggle, lowering their decollete to the point of indecency, or leaving the door of their dressing-room open at the time they were changing clothes-but all they got for their pains was a smuttily witty remark or a mischievous grimace. The luckiest ones got a playful pinch, no more.
Choisy was wise enough not to risk troubles by making love to another actress of the troupe-it was much wiser to go away altogether if he had enough of Clorinde.
But he had not had enough of her yet, and, although his horse was eager to go out and get some exercise, he did not like the idea of leaving.
After a time, Clorinde became less watchful and began to take Choisy a little for granted. Danger, for her, crept in without her being aware of it at first, in the person of Justine Desportes, who was a girl in her teens, not yet fully grown, and a redhead at that.
This Justine was employed by the troupe as a sort of maid-of-all-work. She helped the artistes to get dressed, sewed patches on costumes, also worked in the prompter's box or even on the stage in small parts for which she had only a few words to say. She was badly treated by the troupe, who used her meek attitude to work off their nerves on her, and often went as far as slapping her face.
Choisy was not attracted by unripe women-he disliked being an initiator and much preferred making love with an experienced woman like Clorinde.
But he felt compassion for this poor girl who never answered back and accepted meekly all the taunts and hard words. Several times he had asked her to go and buy some flowers for Clorinde, for she knew a few words of German. Then one day she offered to sew up his sleeve which had become frayed and, as he wanted to give her a silver crown, she refused with a smile.
On one occasion, when he saw Zoe, a soubrette, slap Justine's face because she had mislaid a ribbon, he felt sorry for her and Clorinde laughed and spoke derisively:
— Are you going to appoint yourself the champion of this little hussy?
— Not at all, but why are you all against her?
— She's good for nothing-awkward on the stage and silly backstage.
— But always ready to oblige, remarked Choisy.
— That's the least she can do to earn her bread.
— Her bread! She would love to eat cake like the others, if they would let her! he remarked.
Choisy was piqued and, on the same day, bought some sweets for Justine, who blushing with pleasure, accepted with tears of gratitude in her eyes. She held up her cheeks to him and Choisy was touched by this naive gesture. Fortunately Cloride, who was applying some make-up to her face and had her back turned, did not see Justine kiss Choisy's cheek, but Babet did.
Some time later, Choisy, who was loitering in the town, saw Justine pause in admiration before a hairdresser's shop in the window of which were displayed a few curly wigs.
— Hello! What are you doing here? said Choisy amicably.
Justine blushed and confessed she was admiring the wigs.
— You don't need those, Choisy assured her, you are quite good-looking.
— Me, good-looking? I've always been told that I am plain.
— That's not right, said Choisy, you are at an awkward age, but I predict that in a few years men will take notice of you.
— You're not speaking seriously, are you? she said, wistfully.
— Yes, I am.
— But-I am a red-head!
— Well, why should red-headed girls be different from the others?
— Yes, why? said Justine pensively.
— Has the idea of having a lover entered your mind? asked Choisy point-blank.
She smiled greedily, and that was as good as an answer.
— How do you imagine him to be? went on Choisy.
— At your image, answered Justine, blushing more furiously than ever at this spontaneous confession.
Choisy wondered whether she was secretly making fun of him. Noticing again the whiteness of her skin, he reflected that redheads have warm blood and pictured in his imagination her slender nudity with the spot of fire punctuating the curve of her stomach and he felt blood rushing to his head.
When they arrived back at the theatre, they all started griping at Justine and Choisy heard the loud smack of a slap.
Clorinde took him aside and showed him how beautifully dressed she was in her part of a princess, which she was going to play on the stage. Then she changed her tone and asked abruptly:
— What are your intentions with that little pest Justine?
— And what could my intensions be? he asked innocently.
— You were seen kissing her.
— And what about it? She's only a child. Would you by any chance be jealous?
— To-night you're going to bed with a princess, she told him.
— A stage princess, he corrected her, and added, in bed, all women are alike: princesses or maids, men make goddesses of them all.
Clorinde smiled, flattered, then she went on stage.
Choisy watched her for a while, then felt bored with the play so he went for a walk backstage and suddenly came upon Justine who was crying in a corner.
— Why are you crying? he asked.
— The actresses-they all told me off for gadding about in the streets, and Zoe said she would whip me the next time.
— Let her try it, and it will be I who will spank her, said Choisy.
— Your hands would get sore doing it, remarked Justine.
— That's right, with her bones right near the skin of her buttocks! At her age, it's incurable. You, at least, can hope to get plumper. Though, to say the truth, you're not as lean as they say.
And Choisy gave her behind a playful tap or two.
— Sir! whispered Justine, but not angrily, suppose anyone should see us.
She could not answer for her lips were sealed by Choisy's. It was her first kiss and it set her body into a turmoil.
He took her to a little recess among the decors, and, even as he dragged her there, with one hand he was already exploring the curves of her body, her little body all aching for love. Soon, he reached the mossy humid centre of her feelings. It made him forget all prudence and, his virility awakened, he took out his thing and strove to push it into her.
Justine offered no resistance, until she screamed with pain.
— Oh, sir, you're hurting me!
— Shut up! he commanded, as his body was by now all worked up by desire, and at all costs he felt he had to fulfill it. His senses were made afire by the contact of her soft, wet and warm conduit, as well as by the pungent odour of the pigmentation of her skin, peculiar to red-heads.
— No! she howled, once again trying to oppose the entry of the bowel-piercing instrument.
Choisy was holding her, not wanting to let her go at any costs, when he was rudely interrupted by an exclamation of “Oh, you!..” and, turning round with a thumping heart, he found himself confronted by none other than Sir Desportes, Justine's father, who was about to go on stage in reply to his cue.
Choisy did not wait for explanations and ran away, leaving Justine still a virgin, or very nearly so.