The Romance of Violette

CHAPTER III

Dear girl! It was indeed nature, but a delightful nature which inspired her.

I had some excellent books in my library. She had been reading all day.

“Did you feel dull?” I asked.

“Yes, on account of your absence, but not otherwise.”

“What did you read?”

“I read Valentine.”

“Then I am not surprised,” I replied. “That book is a masterpiece.”

“I do not know. But what I do know is that it made me cry all the time.”

I rang the bell for Madame Leonie.

“Get tea ready,” I said. Then I asked Violette: “Do you like tea?”

“I don't know. I never tasted it.”

When tea was ready, I asked Violette whether she required the service of Leonie any longer. She said, “No” so I shut the door and locked it.

“Are you going to remain here?”

“If you will allow me.”

“All night?”

“All night!”

“Oh, won't that be nice! Then we can go to bed like two good little friends.”

“Just so. Have you ever slept with any of your girl friends?”

“At school, when I was quite little; but not since then, except when I slept with my sister.”

“What did you do then?”

“I used to say good night; I kissed her, and we both went to sleep.

“That is all.”

“And if we slept together, do you think that would be all?”

“I hardly know; but it seems to me there should be something else.”

“But then, what could we do together?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps what you did to me this morning,” she said, embracing me.

I took her in my arms and put her on my knees. She was silent for some time; then she smiled and said:

“Can you guess what I should like?”

“No.”

“I should like to be learned.”

“Learned! Why would you like to be learned, of all things in the world?”

“To understand what I do not understand.”

“What is it you do not understand?”

“A good many things. For instance you asked me whether I was a virgin.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I replied, I did not know, and you burst out laughing.”

“That is correct.”

“Well, what is it to be a virgin?”

“A virgin is a young lady who has never been caressed by a man.”

“Then I am no longer a virgin now?”

“How's that?”

“Why, it seems to me that you caressed me this morning.”

“But there are different ways of caressing, my dear girl. The kisses I gave you this morning, though very sweet…”

“Oh, yes, they were sweet! They were indeed!”

“However sweet, they do not destroy virginity.”

“And what are those that do take away one's virginity?”

“I should first explain to you what is virginity.”

“Do explain it to me, then.”

“It is no easy matter.”

“Oh no, you are so clever!”

“Well, virginity is the physical and moral state of a girl who, like you, has not had a lover.”

“But what is having a lover?”

“It is doing with a man certain things by which children are begotten and brought into the world.”

“Did we not do these things?”

“No!”

“Then you are not my lover?”

“I am only as yet your sweetheart.”

“When will you be my lover?”

“In as long a time as possible.”

“I suppose it is because you would dislike it?”

“Not at all, just the reverse. It is the thing that I should like above all things in the world.”

“Oh dear! how tiresome! I no longer understand you.”

“To be the lover of a woman, pretty little Violette, is to be, in the alphabet of love's pleasures, at the letter Z of the ordinary alphabet. There are twenty-four letters to learn before you come to the end of that series whose first letter, the letter A, is a kiss on the hand.”

I took her little hand and kissed it.

“And what you did to me this morning-what letter was it?”

I was fain to confess that it stood very close to letter Z, and that I had omitted many vowels and consonants to get to that stage.

“You are chaffing me!”

“No, indeed I am not, sweet darling. I should like to make this alphabet last as long as possible-this charming alphabet of love, of which each letter is a caress and each caress is bliss. I should wish to take off little by little that robe of innocence, just as I shall pluck one by one all the different articles of your apparel from your person.

“If you were dressed, each portion that I should take off would disclose something new to me-something unknown, something charming; the neck, the shoulder, the bosom, and, by degrees, all the rest. Like a brute, I divested you of all in a moment. You did not know the value of all that you gave away.”

“Then I have done wrong?”

“No, no! I loved you too much, too passionately, to proceed otherwise.”

I slipped off her gown, and then she sat on my knee clad only in her chemise.

“You wish to know what is virginity,” I said, losing all control of myself. “Well, I wall tell you; but draw near-nearer still-your lips on mine.”

I pressed her to my breast; she clasped her arms round my neck, sighing and panting with amorous excitement.

“Do you feel my hand?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” said she, with a shiver through her whole frame.

“And my finger, do you feel it too?”

“Yes… Yes!…”

“I am now touching what they call the maidenhead. When once this is broken through you cease to be a virgin, and you become a woman. Well, what I wish is to caress you only in such a way that you shall keep that maidenhead as long as possible. Do you understand?”

Directly my finger was fixed there, Violette gave no other answer than by caressing me fondly and muttering passionate words. Then she entwined her body round mine, uttered inarticulate exclamations, sighed, and suddenly she loosened her hold of me; her head fell back, and she lay as if in a swoon. I undressed rapidly, tore off her chemise, and stretched her against me in the bed.

She soon recovered and said:

“Oh, I am dead!”

“Dead!” I cried. “You dead! Just as if you said I was dead. Oh, no! on the contrary, we are beginning to live.” And I covered her with kisses which made her writhe as if they had been so many bites. Then she began in her turn to bite me with little passionate cries. Each time our lips met there was a pause, full of voluptuous pleasure.

Suddenly she gave a cry of astonishment, and seized with both hands the unknown object which had caused her surprise, as if the veil were torn asunder.

“I understand,” said she, “it is with this-But it is quite impossible.”

“Violette, my sweet darling, I can no longer restrain myself; I shall become mad!”

I tried to tear myself away from her embraces.

“No,” she said. “Remain if you love me. Do not be afraid of hurting me, I wish it.”

She then slipped under me, clasped her arms around my neck, twined her thighs round mine, pushing her body against my own.

“I wish it,” she repeated-“I wish it.”

Suddenly she gave a little shriek.

All my fine resolutions had vanished. At the same time that Violette began to understand what was a maidenhead, she had lost her own.

On hearing her cry out, I stopped.

“Oh, no” she said, “go on!… go on!… You hurt me; but if you did not hurt me, I should be too happy! I wish to have pain! Go, do not stop! Do, dear Christian, my beloved! my friend! Oh, I shall go mad!

“Oh, it is like fire! Oh, I die!

“Take me, take all!”

Ah! Mahomet fully knew by what dream he should enthrall man when he gave his disciples the sensual Paradise-a bottomless abyss of voluptuous rapture always renewed.

We spent a night full of bliss-of passionate caresses, and never closed eyes till day break.

“Ah!” said she, on waking and embracing me, “I hope now I am no longer a virgin.”