“Ah, Florence,” he exclaimed while staring at me, “that is really something beautiful; truly precious and divine. This time you have outdone yourself. Really, I am serious, Mademoiselle is adorable. She is a hundred times more beautiful than you have told me. Upon my honor, she is an angel. I do not exaggerate when I call her a marvelous specimen. Just look at those beautiful eyes! I have to press a kiss upon them; I simply cannot resist.”
Madame Florence, who had already foreseen the following events, and who knew that the presence of a third person was superfluous, discreetly retired into another room and left the two of us alone. Without giving up his majestic posture, M. President immediately sat me down upon the couch, and after he had amused himself for a while with touching and looking at my most secret charms, he forced me into a posture which was exactly the opposite to the one I used to take with Pierrot. But, I had been advised to be kind and obliging. I spread my legs while bending over as if to touch my toes, unaware of his ultimate goal. He gripped me tightly about the waist and pushed me even farther forward, so that I almost lost my balance. I was completely helpless in this position. I hoped that he would hurry. A sharp pain in my nether hole announced his attack, and I struggled to rise, or at least to correct what I believed to be his faulty aim. But to no avail. The perfidious gentleman did to me what all debauchees dream of doing and I lost my second virginity. My convulsive movements during this unnatural operation, and the loud screams that escaped me against my will, made it clear to M. President that I did not share his passionate ardor at all. To compensate me, and also to make me forget the pains I had suffered, he pressed two louis d'or into my hands.
“This is in addition to your regular fee,” he stated, “and you do not have to tell Madame Florence about it. I take care of all the fees, including yours. Fare-thee-well, my little queen, but first I want to press one more kiss upon your adorable, tiny orifice. So! I hope we will meet again during the next few days. Yes, we will have to see each other again because I am greatly satisfied with you and the way you have behaved yourself.”
Upon those words he left the room with quick small steps. The floorboards of the room creaked because he walked on the tips of his toes and kept his knees stiff. I did not understand in the least what had happened to me and I did not know at all what to think. Either M. President had made a mistake or this peculiar way of taking possession of an innocent girl must be the habit of people of a certain rank and position. Well, if that happens to be the fashion, I told myself, I suppose I have to get used to it. I am not more sensitive than anybody else. Any new method that is tried out for the first time can be rather exhausting. But, after all, there is nothing to which one cannot get used to in time. I had become rather accustomed to Pierrot's methods, though in the beginning I had to strain myself to get used to him.
I was still engrossed in this interesting conversation with myself when Madame Florence entered the room again.
“Well, young lady,” she said, rubbing her hands, “don't you think M. President has a charming personality? Did he give you anything?”
“No, Madame,” I answered.
“Look here,” she countered, “this is a louis d'or. He has ordered me to give this gold piece to you. I hope it will not remain the only token of his great appreciation for you, because he seemed to be extremely satisfied with your services. Please, don't think, my dear child, that all our devotions are so simple or for that matter so richly rewarded. As with every business there are losses and there are gains. The pleasures make up for the disappointments. There is not a single merchant who makes good money all the time. One has to take the gains and the losses with equal good graces. Our profession would be a true goldmine were it not for the fact that we also have to put up with some bad customers. But, never lose your patience. Soon the esteemed members of the clergy will have their conventions. I entertain high hopes that you will then see the money virtually roll into our coffers. Truly — and I don't want to sound vain — my house does not have a bad name. If I had as many thousands in income as I have received prelates, abbots and other high-ranking gentlemen, I would be able to live like a queen. Mind you, I would not be justified if I seem to complain. The Lord has been very good to me and I could stop working right now. But, whosoever is of no use to himself, is of no use to anybody. And, besides, a person has to have some form of occupation. 'Idleness is the root of all evil,' as the proverb says. If everyone were to stick to his business, we would have no troubles in this world.”
While Madame Florence was flooding me with her boring sagacities and proverbs, I almost got a cramp in my jaw from trying to stifle a compulsive yawning. She finally noticed it and sent me up to my room, reminding me to be sure and make good use of the bidet.
I cannot help myself, but as a sort of marginal note I would like to state that the respectable ladies are greatly indebted to us. Not only do they have us to thank for this useful piece of furniture, but for many other inventions that make life more pleasurable, as well as for the art of enhancing or repairing the natural charms and hiding certain blemishes from prying eyes. It is we who taught them the secrets of multiplying their charms and how to employ them to their fullest extent, to dress up and use ornaments, and above all they learned from our demeanor and our behavior. These are the many things that have excited their curiosity, because it is from us that they copy their latest fashions and notions whose charms are very difficult to define. Briefly, it is easy to gossip about us. But respectable women will only be considered worthy of adoring as long as they can imitate us, when their virtue is ever so slightly tainted with the smell of sin and when they understand how to play the game of coquetry and assume a frivolous character. If only it were possible that this fictitious disparity could be uncovered to restore our good reputation and force out the stereotyped prejudice, and above all rescue our honor!
But I will resume my story. Madame Florence, who had so vociferously spoken out against idleness, did not leave me much time for melancholy thoughts. She brought me quickly back to reality.
“My dear heart,” she said lovingly. “I really hesitate to trouble you so quickly. But your friends are downstairs, busily occupied with a bunch of frivolous soldiers. To introduce you to them would truly have bothered my conscience; they pay very badly and I have no intention of employing your abilities for free. Downstairs is a farmer who is a friend of mine. He is an old customer who brings me two louis d'or every week as sure as night follows day. And of all people, I would not want to appear unaccommodating toward him. What do you think, little girl? Two louis d'or is nothing to sneeze at, especially not when it is so easily earned.”
“It is not as easy as you think it is, Madame,” I answered. “If you had to suffer yourself what I just went through (I still felt pretty sore)…”
“Oh, but no one is as horrible as that man!” she interrupted. “What I am proposing now is just a little game, nothing else. I guarantee you that his caresses are neither long-lasting nor exhausting. With him, the whole thing is over and done with in a very short while.”
After Madame Florence had finally succeeded in getting my permission, she introduced me to the most boring tax collector type one can imagine. Just try to picture this: a huge bald head, halfway hidden between the broad shoulders of a weight lifter; staring mean-looking eyes overshadowed by bushy reddish eyebrows; a low wrinkled forehead; a fat triple chin; a heavy drinker's belly; and the whole thing supported by short, heavy bowlegs with flat feet that would do honor to a gander. All these small traits, every single one in its proper place, betrayed the revenue man. I was so surprised at the sight of this creature that I did not even notice how our hostess quietly absented herself.
“Well,” said the tax collector in a brutal tone of voice, “did we get together to stand in front of each other with our arms crossed? You are standing there as rigid as a beanpole! Come on, come on, dammit! Come here, girl! I have no time for a quiet tete-a-tete because I am due at a meeting shortly. So, let's get it over with. Where are your hands. Give them to me. Good God, what a fumbler! Quick, put your fingers around it. Now, up and down… loosely from the wrist! That's it… yes… right. a little bit stronger… Stop!.. Now, quicker… Careful! Yes… yes, that's very good …'
Suddenly my hands were covered with his sticky white tribute to my skill in following commands.
This pleasant exercise was hardly finished when he threw a few coins in my direction and disappeared as quickly as if his creditors were chasing him.
When I thought about the strange and horrible demands that are expected from a demi-mondaine, I really did not know if I could think of any service that is more miserable and loathsome. And I exclude neither the galley slave nor the courtier. Can there truly be anything more unbearable than to be forced to satisfy the lusts of any man who happens to come along? To smile lovingly at some depraved rogue whom one loathes with every fiber of one's being? To make love to the object of general repulsion? To submit continually to acts which are as strange as they are unnatural? In a word: to hide behind a mask of artistic skill and hypocrisy; to laugh, sing and drink; to commit every imaginable kind of excess and aberration, while the mind is filled with horror and deepest repulsion. How
