In the dormitory she could hear the girls laughing together, preparing for tonight. She heard her own name mentioned amidst laughter.
“A surprise . . .”
“Why not . . .”
“Safer too . . .”
She did not care for their surprises; she cared only that Manox would kiss her no more. Then it occurred to her that he had merely liked her as a young and attractive man might like a little girl. It was not the same emotion as the older people felt for each other; that emotion of which Catherine thought a good deal, and longed to experience. She must live through the weary years of childhood before that could happen; the thought made her melancholy.
Through her curtains she listened to running footsteps. She heard a young man’s voice; he had brought sweetmeats and dainties for the party tonight, he said. There were exclamations of surprise and delight.
“But how lovely!”
“I declare I can scarce keep my hands off them.”
“Tonight is a special occasion, didst know? Catherine’s coming of age . . .”
What did they mean? They could laugh all they liked; she was not interested in their surprises.
Evening came. Isabel insisted on drawing back the curtains of Catherine’s bed.
“I am weary tonight,” said Catherine. “I wish to sleep.”
“Bah!” laughed Isabel. “I thought you would wish to join in the fun! Great pains have I taken to see that you should enjoy this night.”
“You are very kind, but really I would rather retire.”
“You know not what you say. Come, take a little wine.”
The guests began to arrive; they crept in, suppressing their laughter. The great room was filled with the erotic excitement which was always part of these entertainments. There were slapping and kisses and tickling and laughter; bed curtains pulled back and forth, entreaties for caution, entreaties for less noise.
“You’ll be the death of me, I declare!”
“Hush! Her Grace . . .”
“Her Grace is snoring most elegantly. I heard her.”
“People are often awakened by their snores!”
“The Duchess is. I’ve seen it happen.”
“So has Catherine, has she not, when she is having her lesson on the virginals with Henry Manox!”
That remark seemed to be the signal for great laughter, as though it were the most amusing thing possible.
Catherine said seriously: “That is so. Her snores do awaken her.”
The door opened. There was a moment’s silence. Catherine’s heart began to hammer with an odd mixture of fear and delight. Henry Manox came into the room.
“Welcome!” said Isabel. Then: “Catherine, here is your surprise!”
Catherine raised herself, and turned first red, then white. Manox went swiftly to her and sat on her bed.
“I had no notion . . .” began Catherine breathlessly.
“We decided it should be a secret. . . . You are not displeased to see me?”
“I . . . of course not!”
“Dare I hope that you are pleased?”
“Yes, I am pleased.”
His black eyes flashed. He said: “’Twas dangerous, little Catherine, to kiss you there before the Duchess. I did it because of my need to kiss you.”
She answered: “It is dangerous here.”
“Bah!” he said. “I would not fear the danger here . . . among so many. And I would have you know, Catherine, that no amount of danger would deter me.”
Isabel came over.
“Well, my children? You see how I think of your happiness!”
“This was your surprise, Isabel?” said Catherine.
“Indeed so. Are you not grateful, and is it not a pleasant one?”
“It is,” said Catherine.
One of the young gentlemen came over with a dish of sweetmeats, another with wine.
Catherine and Manox sat on the edge of Catherine’s bed, holding hands, and Catherine thought she had never been so excited nor so happy, for she knew that she had stepped right out of an irksome childhood into womanhood, where life was perpetually exciting and amusing.
