left him in the lurch. Did I know of any actress who could play a great part? Without hesitation I took him to Aimee Desclee.
'He knew the whole story of her previous fiasco, but on the way I assured him she had changed, begged him to trust his own judgment, and what I expected happened. He was swept off his balance by her personal magnetism and he staged Phedre for her, only stipulating that no one should know her real name until afterwards.
'Well, we beat the big drum and did all we knew, but the house was almost empty. When Aimee Desclee came on the stage, before she opened her mouth, I thrilled with expectation, and her first words carried us all off our feet. At the end of the first act I went out and sent notes to half a dozen colleagues to come and hear her, but when I returned to the theatre it was full. Paris had already in some magical way got news of the event and in an hour everyone knew that a great actress had been discovered. 'I think,' added Claretie, 'that she was the greatest actress I have ever seen.' '
Claretie told the little story superbly and with strange reticence; yet, to my astonishment, Jeanne heightened the effect. 'I heard her a little later in Froufrou,' she said, 'and agree with you. Not only was she a great actress but a great woman. There were tones in her voice that wrung the heart. It was her own soul's suffering that gave her the power: Dumas fils was wise to choose her for his heroine.'
This lunch taught me that Jeanne in her way was a surprising woman: she was extremely well read, had all the lighter French literature at her fingers' ends, and could find new words to say of Flaubert, and Zola, Daudet and Maupassant even, words that were illuminating. She knew Paris, too, all its heights and depths, was a wonderful companion for a man of letters, and an incomparable mistress.
After a day or two I began to doubt her magic. She never tried to excite me, but whenever I sought her I found the same diabolical power. The French have the word for her: 'Casse Noisettes' they call it, or 'nutcrackers,' a woman's sex with the contractile strength of a hand, and Jeanne knew the exact moment to use it.
I grew more and more infatuated and yet out of fear tried time and again to give her money and tear myself loose, but she would not accept money, though always eager to lunch or dine with me and meet actors, actresses, and men of letters.
One day we had been for a long outing at Fontainebleau, had dined there, and returned. I wanted to kiss her but she turned away. At length I said in pure despite, 'I'll have to be getting back to London to my work.'
Jeanne looked at me. 'I was going to propose something else,' she said. 'I have a place near Algiers, sunbathed, between the mountains and the sea, wonderful. You could have ponies to ride and could give yourself to writing books and leave that silly journalism once for all.'
'I mightn't succeed,' I said, 'and I have too little money to make the trial.'
'I have more money than you think,' she remarked quietly. 'I have three hundred thousand francs saved and that house and farm and-'
'I can't live on your money,' I broke in rudely.
'Why not?' she rejoined. 'We could be married and have an almost perfect life.'
I started. What a prospect! The intercourse of the past month came back to me. Once I had caught Jeanne by chance when she had just washed her face: she had no eyebrows, she painted them in, and gave her light eyelashes, too, a dark tone with some pigment. Marry her? I laughed to myself and could not help shaking my head.
'I am a fairly good mistress, am I not?' she asked.
'The best possible,' I replied. 'No one could deny that, and an excellent companion to boot, but I want to see more of life and the world before settling down; and I've always resolved to go round the world every twenty years or so; and I want to learn a couple of new languages and-'
'You could do all that,' she insisted. 'I should not hinder you. I want to make my house a house beautiful: I want you as husband and companion, but you could always take a whiter off or a summer and go round the world, so long as you came back to me; and you would come back, I know you. You want to make a great reputation as a writer and I'm sure you will, but that means years of hard work, carefree years. Think it over.' I smiled, but shook my head.
A day or two afterwards she said, 'I shall have to send Lisette to school unless we go south together; she's getting to be a big girl and is exquisitely pretty.
You should see her in her bath!'
'I'd love to,' I said without thinking. The next evening when we came in, Jeanne took me to the next floor and opened the door. There was Lisette in the bath, a model of girlish beauty, astonishingly lithe and lovely. She turned her back on us and snatched a towel hanging near, but Jeanne held it back saying, 'Don't be silly, child. Frank won't eat you, and I've told him how pretty and well formed you are.'
At this the girl lifted big inscrutable eyes to her and stood at gaze, a most exquisite picture: the breasts just beginning to be marked, the hips a little fuller than a boy's, the feet and hands smaller-a perfect Tanagra statuette in whitest flesh with a roseate glow on the inside of arms and thighs, while the Mount of Venus was just shadowed with down. She stood there waiting, an entrancing maiden figure. I felt my mouth parching, the pulses in my temples beating. What did it mean? Did Jeanne intend-?
The next moment Jeanne lifted the child out of the bath, and covering her with the towel said, 'Dry yourself and come down, dear. We're all going to dine soon.'
When we were downstairs she asked, 'Well, are you going with us to Algiers?'
'Suppose I wanted Lisette?' I asked boldly.
Jeanne shrugged her shoulders. 'There are sure to be several Lisettes in your life,' she said seriously, 'but only one Jeanne, I hope,' and she set her eyes on mine.
'You are a wonder,' I rejoined, 'a marvel!'
Nothing more was said then, but when Lisette came down in her nightie and dressing-gown, Jeanne encouraged her to sit on my knees after dinner, and I seem still to feel the warm imprint of her lithe body on my legs.
When I went back to the Meurice that night I knew I'd have to fight the greatest temptation of my life. Could I fight it?
It was Shakespeare's word that saved me, I verily believe. I could not be 'the bellows and the fan to cool a harlot's lust.' Yet the temptation was tremendous, for really Jeanne was a most interesting companion and an adorable mistress. I wanted to know why she had selected me. 'How does one know why this man pleases you intimately,' she asked, 'whereas another repels you? You please me physically, interest me mentally, and I know you're hardworking and kind. I think we could have an almost ideal existence, and I'm tired of Paris and lonely, without an object or purpose in life.'
'And Lisette?' I asked.
'Oh! the Lisettes are for later,' she smiled. 'Before she's grown up you'll have found an Arab beauty with even lovelier limbs. It's the artist in you leads you to stray, the attraction of plastic beauty on you. I noticed that at the very beginning, but I can't make my breasts small and round. If I could I would, you may be sure, but I know I can give you more pleasure than any other woman, and so I feel sure you will always come back to me.'
It was true, but could I work with Jeanne: that was the doubt. Already I felt more tired than I had been for years. That night I studied my face in the glass and saw that my features had sharpened, and I had lost my healthy color. I was getting grey and worn, and if a month had this result, what would a year effect or ten years? I could not shut my eyes to the truth. I should be played out. I would have one more gaudy, great night; I'd kiss Lisette, too, and feel if she responded, and then for the train to Calais and my work again in London.
And this I did. I gave a big lunch to people of importance in the theatre and in journalism and invited Jeanne and referred everything to her and drew her out, throning her, and afterwards returned to her house to dinner. While she was changing and titivating, I took Lisette in my arms and kissed her with hot lips again and again while feeling her budding breasts, till she put her arms round my neck and kissed me just as warmly; and then I ventured to touch her little half-fledged sex and caress it, till it opened and grew moist and she nestled up to me and whispered: 'Oh! how you excite me!'
'Have you ever done it to yourself?' I asked. She nodded with bright dancing eyes. 'Often, but I prefer you to touch me.' For the first time I heard the truth from a girl and her courage charmed me. I could not help laying her on the sofa, and turning up her clothes: how lovely her limbs were, and how perfect her sex. She was really exquisite, and I took an almost insane pleasure in studying her beauties, and parting the lips of her sex kisses: in a
