'Well, that's not bad for a double entente,' said the Father, laughing, 'but now tell us candidly, before Mr. Clinton was intimate with you in our presence just now, had you ever before had a similar experience?'
'Once,' said Lucy, simpering and examining the pattern of the carpet.
'Good God,' said the astonished churchman, as with deathlike silence he waited for an answer to his next question-'When was it and with whom?'
'With Mr. Clinton himself, in the drawing-room here, about an hour ago.'
I refused the money of course, but had the laugh on all of them, and as we rolled home to De Vaux's chambers in a hansom about an hour later I could not help admitting to him that I considered the evening we had passed through the most agreeable I had ever known.
'You will soon forget it in the midst of other pleasures.'
'Never,' I said. 'If Calais was graven on Mary's heart, I am quite sure that this date will be found inscribed on mine if ever they should hold an inquest upon my remains.'
CHAPTER 9
Having become a frequent visitor at The Priory, the name Monsignor's hospitable mansion was generally known by, I had numberless opportunities for fucking Lucy, Madeline and two of the domestics, but somehow I never properly took to flagellation in its true sense.
There was a housemaid of Monsignor's, a pretty and intelligent girl called Martha, the sight of whose large, fleshy bum, with an outline which would have crushed Hogarth's line of beauty out of time, used to excite me beyond measure, but I was not an enthusiast, and when Monsignor recognised this, and found that as a birch performer I laid it on far too sparingly, his invitations were less pressing, and gradually my visits became few and far between.
De Vaux, on the other hand, had become a qualified practitioner, and would dilate for hours on the celestial pleasures to be derived from skilful bum-scoring, in fact, so perfect a disciple of Monsignor's did he get to be that the pupil in some peculiar phases has outstripped the master, and his work now in the press, entitled The Glory of the Birch, or Heaven on Earth, may fairly claim, from an original point of view, to be catalogued with the more abstruse volumes penned by the Fathers, and collated and enlarged by Messrs Peter, Price and Boniface upon the same subject.
As I stated before, I could not enter so thoroughly into the felicity of birching. I saw that, physically speaking, it was productive of forced emission, but I preferred cunt moreau naturel. The easy transition from a kiss to a feel, from a feel to a finger frig, and eventually by a more natural sequence to a gentle insertion of the jock, were a series of gradations more suited to my unimaginative temperament, and I, therefore, to quote the regretful valediction of De Vaux, relapsed into that condition of Paphian barbarism in which he found me.
But I was by no means idle. My income, which was nearly?7,000 per annum, was utilised in one direction only, and as you shall hear, I employed it judiciously in the gratification of my taste.
In the next suite of chambers to mine lived a young barrister, Sydney Mitchell, a daredevil dog, and one whose penchant for the fair sex was only equalled by his impecuniosity, for he was one of that many-headed legion who are known as briefless.
I had occasionally, when he had been pounced upon by a bailiff, which occurred on an average of about once a month, rescued him by a small advance, which he had gratefully repaid by keeping me company in my lonely rooms, drinking my claret and smoking my best Havanas.
But this was to me sufficient repayment, for Sydney had an inexhaustible store of comic anecdotes, and his smartly told stories were always so happily related that they never offended the ear, while they did not fail to tickle the erective organs.
One morning Sydney came to me in a devil of a stew.
'My very dear Clinton,' he said, 'I'm in a hell of a scrape again; can you help me out of it?'
'Is it much?' I said, remembering that I had paid?25 for him a few days before.
'Listen, and you may judge for yourself. I was at my Buffalo lodge last night, got drunk, and invited about half a dozen fellows to my chambers this evening to dinner.'
'Well,' I remarked, 'there's nothing very dreadful about that.'
'Yes, there is, for I have to appear as substitute for a chum on the Queen's Bench in an hour, and my wig is at the dresser's, who won't part with it until I've paid up what I owe, which will swallow up every penny I had intended for the dinner.'
'Oh, that's easily got over,' I said. 'Ask them to dine here instead, say you quite forgot you were engaged to me, and that I won't let you off, but desire they accompany you.'
'I'm your eternal debtor once more,' cried Sydney, and he rushed off to plead as happy as a butterfly.
I ordered a slap-up dinner for eight from the neighbouring restaurant, and as my 'Inn dinners' were well known by repute, not one of the invites was missing.
We had a capital dinner, and as Sydney's companions were a jolly set, I made up my mind for a glorious evening. Little did I know then how much more glorious it was to wind up than ever I had anticipated.
When the cigars and the port came on, and the meeting was beginning to assume a rather uproarious character, Sydney proposed that his friend Wheeler should oblige with a song, and after that gentleman had enquired whether my fastidiousness would be shocked at anything ultra drawing-room, and had been assured that nothing would give me greater pleasure, he began in a rich clear voice the following:
As Mary, dear Mary, one day was a-lying, As Mary, sweet Mary, one day was a-lying, She spotted her John, at the door he was spying, With his tol de riddle, tol de riddle, lol de rol lay.
And then came the chorus, rolled out by the whole company, for the refrain was so catching that I found myself unconsciously joining in withHis tol de riddle, tol de riddle, lol de rol lay.
Oh Johnny, dear Johnny, now do not come to me, Oh Johnny, pray Johnny, oh do not come to me, Or else I'm quite certain that you will undo me, With your tol de riddle, tol de riddle, lol de rol lay.
ChorusWith your tol de riddle, etc.
But Johnny, dear Johnny, not liking to look shady, But Johnny, sweet Johnny, not liking to seem shady, Why he downed with his breeches and treated his lad To his tol de riddle, tol de riddle, lol de rol lay.
ChorusWith your tol de riddle, etc.
Oh, Johnny, dear Johnny, you'll make me cry murder.
Oh, Johnny, pray cease this, you'll make me scream murder.
But she soon changed her note, and she murmured 'in further'
With your tol de riddle, tol de riddle, lol de rol lay.
Chorus — With your tol de riddle, etc.
Now Mary, dear Mary, grew fatter and fatter, Now Mary's, sweet Mary's plump belly grew fatter, Which plainly did prove that her John had been at her, With his tol de riddle, tol de riddle, lol de rol lay.
ChorusWith your tol de riddle, etc.
MORAL
Now all you young ladies take warning had better, Now amorous damsels take warning you'd better, When you treat John make him wear a French letter.
On his tol de riddle, tol de riddle, lol de rol lay.
The singing of this song, which I was assured was quite original, was greeted with loud plaudits, then one of the young gentlemen volunteered a recitation, which ran as follows:
On the banks of a silvery river,
A youth and a maiden reclined;
The youth could be scarce twenty summers, The maiden some two years behind.
Full up and a neck well developed,
That youth's ardent nature bespoke,
And he gazed on that virtuous maiden
