took a long time to build up the tension in his loins, making it possible to probe her responsive, warm sheath. Finally, Julia fluted little cries, begging and urging him to drive her to the zenith of fulfillment. When he began to quicken his thrusts, he could feel her body churn and jerk as the orgasm exploded within her. It made him, too, come in an ecstatic release.
Suddenly, Michael felt a short stabbing pain in his shoulder, and when he grabbed, a child's dagger fell to the floor. A shadow rushed through the room.
“Who is there?” he called.
Julia lit the lamp, and they searched the room. They found nothing.
To call the servants and have them search the castle would have compromised both Julia and Michael. It could not have been a burglar, Michael thought, because this dagger belonged to a child. Who could have done such a thing? He shrugged off the whole thing and from then on he made sure that the door was firmly bolted.
But Julia had recognized the little dagger she had once given to Pedro to complete the Spanish costume he always wore in Sundays. She made up her mind to talk about it to the boy.
“Where is that little dagger I gave you? Did you lose it?”
“No, I didn't. You have it.”
“So it was you last night.”
“Yes.”
“And why did you do such a terrible thing? You must know that it was a terrible thing you did.”
“I have spent the last couple of days under your bed, and I don't want that man to do those things to you.”
“What man?”
“The painter! Michael Lompret. I don't want him to embrace you like that. You never let me do it that way!”
“That's all I needed! Listen here, young man, Michael Lompret wants to be to you like a father. He wants to take care of your upbringing and education, and if you want to throw away your future, you try one of those tricks again!”
“I hate him!”
“And I advise you to behave!” Julia and the boy looked at each other, eyes blazing.
Pedro said nothing, but from that day on he followed Michael like a shadow, pulling pranks and making a nuisance of himself, whenever he found a chance.
Julia had told him, of course, how she had found Claire and Pedro, and that she had plans for the children. Michael had agreed to take Pedro under his wing. But, one day, after he had found big gobs of lard in his boots, one of his paintings crisscrossed with a knife, and all his paints mixed together in one bucket, Michael decided that the time for firmness had finally come.
He calmly stepped down from his ladder, grabbed the boy by the scuff of his neck, pulled down the child's pants and, with the flat of his hand, painted Pedro's buttocks a deep purple. Then he carried the screaming, struggling boy to the front door, and dropped him unceremoniously in front of the smirking gardener. He closed the door and went back to work.
The gardener asked him with a sneer if he liked being thrashed by Michael as much as he liked it from Madame? White with fury, the boy ran to his room. And, when they called him that evening for dinner, Pedro was gone.
“Good riddance,” Michael said, when Julia told him, “that boy was a no-good source of endless irritation.”
“I hope he won't do anything desperate.”
“He won't. He'll go back to begging for a couple days, and then he will return. He knows a good thing when he sees one. Besides, as far as I am concerned, he can hang himself.”
Julia did not want a quarrel, but she was upset by this unexpected outburst. Pedro's name was no longer mentioned at La Bidouze. But-only Dorothy knew about this-Julia went to see the priest of the little village which belonged to her domain to discuss Pedro's problem at length. A few days later, she was discreetly informed that one of the foresters had found the boy in a cave, and that little Claire was bringing him his food. Julia told Michael that she had to leave for a couple of days to go to Digne, a nearby town, and, without Michael's knowledge, she put the boy in a Dominican College.
She told the abbot what little she knew of Pedro's background, wisely forgetting a few little details, and asked him to see to it that Pedro would get an excellent schooling.
“He is very unruly,” she told the abbot, “and, though I do not wish to use the rod on him, I think you should be very strict. I will pay for all his expenses and I hope that this gift for the school will meet with your approval.”
The abbot's eyes popped. The members of the de Corriero family had always been extremely generous to both College and Abbey, but this gift surpassed anything they had ever received.
“Madame can be assured that the boy will receive the best attention,” he said.
“When the boy has finished his final exams, I hope that one of your good Fathers will bring him to me.”
And so it was agreed. The gates of learning closed behind Pedro for a number of years.
The summer flew by on wings of love and the inhabitants of La Bidouze were surprised when they noticed one day that the swallows were gathering for their flight to the African shores.
“Already?”
“Yes, already. And it will soon be time to follow their example.”
“To Africa?”
“No silly… back to Paris.”
Once back in Paris, not a night went by that Julia did not squirm in Michael's hot embraces. But the artist did not love Julia for her body alone. Granted, it was one of the most beautiful and desirable bodies in all of Paris because mother nature had spent a lot of time and thought when she created this gorgeous woman.
However, Michael also wanted her to share his knowledge and feelings. He decided to introduce his love to the world of the mind.
That winter they traveled through Italy. The summer was spent at La Bidouze, and the next winter was spent in sunny Spain.
Their repeated, prolonged absence from Paris had the happy result that, at least outwardly, the anger of the Count de Paliseul was subdued. He had sworn to himself that he would move heaven and earth, and if necessary go down to hell, to revenge himself upon Madame Pomegranate Flower.
The love affair between Maxim de Berny and Florentine was still going strong. Possibly both were a bit less passionate than they used to be, but they still saw one another regularly in the Rue Charles V. Possibly too regularly. Florentine was beginning to suffer. She lost weight, and she was beginning to get nervous. Her doctor diagnosed it as a lack of emotional involvement, and he suggested that Madame should seriously think about remarrying and having a few children as playmates for her growing son.
Five years went by without any serious mishaps. Five years of happiness as fate bestows only upon the lucky few. Both women had emptied the cup of earthly joys for three quarters. The last quarter was to be mixed with bitterness.
Julia was the first to taste it.
During the season back in Paris, she had been introduced to the Count de Paliseul. It came as a shock to her, but she quieted herself by insisting that he could not possibly have recognized her.
He did not. But, he had seen Dorothy without a mask, and he recognized her!
“Well, well, my dearest Madame Felicitas,” he had said with a vicious snarl, “how the mighty are fallen! You are indeed in a beautiful home. But after having had one of your own, I doubt if you like the role of a common chambermaid.”
Dorothy acted astonished, said that his Lordship was jesting, and Pierre, the majordomo, who had listened to the little scene, confirmed that Dorothy-like himself-had been in the service of Madame de Corriero for at least ten years.
De Paliseul, who was convinced that he had not made a mistake this time, put two and two together. Ten years! Those words stuck in his mind. But then, Madame de Corriero, the woman who was unapproachable, must
