very stiff and warm prick of her lover, which soon found its target and belaboured it with conviction.
They certainly forgot all about d'Haucourt and Rosalie and all other worries and problems. Lisette, though, was not without taking her share of her master's worries, but she knew very well that what she did in bed with him had the power of making him forget about everything but the matter in hand, and so, that evening, she concentrated on making herself a better loving creature than ever. She sucked him off and caressed him and showed more outward signs of pleasure than ever in order to excite him all the more.
— Have you ever tried the caress of the apron? she asked him suddenly.
— What the hell are you talking about? he asked, perplexed but curious, and all agog at the mention of the word “caress.”
— Stay there a while, she said with a laugh creasing her eyes.
She got up and came back with one of her aprons, a black satin one, very soft to the touch. Then she knelt beside him on the bed, and, holding the apron with both hands, she let it softly touch Choisy's erected penis and ran it gently along its sensitive front, and again she lowered it and softly lifted it up along his penis, quivering with delight at such a hellishly soft and pleasurable touch.
— Wow, that's delicious, Choisy exclaimed, Lisette, you're a genius!
Without hurry, Lisette continued for a while to excite her lover with the apron, then, judging that she had better stop if she didn't want to have it all sullied by you-know-what, she suddenly threw it away and lay herself down on top of Choisy, impaling herself savagely on his exacerbated penis. And he was so near the goal that two or three seconds sufficed to procure the most pleasurable orgasm he thought he had ever had.
Lisette, he thought, was really one of the best mistresses he had ever had, and perhaps even the best.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Du Rozan came from a respectable provincial family. He had come to the capital like a moth attracted by the flame and had mixed in the world of Letters and Theatre. He had even written a few poems which he had succeeded in selling, and, on the stage, he had had at first a few minor jobs which had gradually developed into better roles, and now that he was a handsome actor, he believed the world was his oyster.
He deceived himself into thinking that Rosalie would follow in the footsteps of so many other well-known actresses who had fallen for his charms. He used to boast, that he had been the cause of so many deceived husbands that he had lost the count, although he did not give specific names.
But the mocking Rosalie was not keen on being just another of his feminine victories. When he complimented her on the agreeable curves of her body, she replied tartly:
— Why, don't you see anything else in a woman but these superficial qualities?
— Well, I… I see what you show me, he answered lamely.
— But I am not showing anything.
— You make one guess.
— I also have less apparent merits, and that's why I am such an admired woman.
— You have the complexion of a rose and a heart as pure as crystal.
— Mind! Crystal is eminently breakable.
— But yours does not run the risk of being hit.
— Du Rozan, you speaking as at the Hotel de Rambouillet.
— Or as in a scene from Moliere's plays.
— Well, that is surely not the way to get me, she said drily.
Du Rozan was getting desperate. Vainly did he dress and perfume himself as best he could, vainly did he try to be as witty as he could be-Rosalie remained insensible to his charms and to all his advances.
Besides, he frowned up on the too demonstrative friendship between his beloved and Mrs. de Sancy, a friendship that bordered a little too much on tenderness. He tackled her once on that ticklish point.
— Are you by any chance hoping to find in the salon of Mrs. de Sancy the rare bird that will move you?
— Who knows? she answered tauntingly.
And she laughed gaily, thinking of the rare bird that was hidden in the skirt of Mrs. de Sancy, that rare bird which knew so well how to give her a pleasure which du Rozan himself would probably never be able to equal.
Du Rozan's jealousy, as it growed and growed, needed fixing itself on somebody in particular. D'Haucourt was his victim.
— You should be careful, Rosalie, he said, d'Haucourt is looking at you with amorous eyes.
— He doesn't care a whit about me, Rosalie assured him.
— I am well informed, du Rozan insisted.
— But, my dear, he's after Mrs. de Sancy, not me. She's very attractive and well-off and — Well, let him marry her then!
Whereupon Rosalie, who knew the truth about Mrs. de Sancy, laughed at the very idea.
— If d'Haucourt got what he's after, it would be all over with your intimacy with Mrs. de Sancy, du Rozan said, oh, you can laugh. I'm gifted with foresight.
Rosalie became less ironical when she became certain she was pregnant. Choisy gave her some ingenious advice which she followed. She announced to du Rozan that Mrs. de Sancy had accepted to marry d'Haucourt. The comedian triumphantly exclaimed:
— What did I tell you? I knew the knight was playing a double game.
— Alas! sighed Rosalie.
And she played the best scene of her career, this time on the real stage of live.
— Give him a good lesson, du Rozan suggested, jumping at this unforeseen heaven-sent opportunity (or rather “Choisy-sent'), get married, you too: so, the knight won't have the satisfaction of seeing you disconsolate.
He took one of her hands, held it and kissed it with more effusion than he had ever done on the stage.
— I've been looking forward so long to this happiness, he whispered.
Rosalie did not answer but opposed no resistance. And she even gave du Rozan a kiss, which was the first he ever got from her. Secretly she thanked Choisy for the success of his stratagem. She had at last found a father for her child to come. She soon spread the news of her forthcoming marriage with du Rozan. But matters became complicated when du Rozan started bruiting about that Mrs. de Sancy was giving way to d'Haucourt. The latter, joyous with this piece of news, divulged it still more so that it was soon all over the salons. Then he brought an engagement-ring and gave it to Mrs. de Sancy, saying:
— I knew you would give way one day or the other, but I never imagined I would have won your heart with a sword.
— You still have to make your conquest concrete, Choisy said.
— I'll do your bidding, my love, he said, then, falling on his knees before Mrs. de Sancy, he added:
— But not as at Meudon? It's a dangerous game.
— Would you be afraid?
— Yes-to hurt you.
— Or to be hurt by me?
D'Haucourt laid a nervous hand on his beloved's knee and looked at her with burning eyes.
— Will you renounce fencing after we're married? he asked timidly.
— It would make a widow or a widower of one of us, remarked Choisy, and, in this non-committal remark, d'Haucourt read a glimpse of hope.
Nevertheless, he could not help recalling how Mrs. de Sancy, disguised as a knight, had put his life in peril at Meudon, and he wondered if by any chance she was not intending to marry him and then kill him in a duel in order to inherit his riches. That tigress was capable of everything!
Those thoughts made him hesitate to marry. Better, he reflected, become her lover. After all, to make love with her, they did not have to be married. So he continued to court her, but, at the back of his mind, he was seeking the means of springing a new trap on her at the earliest opportunity.
