pleasure exhibited in his countenance, I thought myself lost, feeling certain that he would publish my shame.
“Ha, ha, Brother Silas!” said he; “I did not think you capable of such things-you, the model of the convent! the eagle of theology! the…”
“Come, come,” said I sternly; “let us have no more of your ironical eulogy; you have seen me frig myself; go and tell all the convent; bring whomever you please to see me make my tenth discharge!”
“Brother Silas,” said he coolly, “it is for your own good that I speak; why do you frig yourself?”
“That's quite enough, Father Andrew,” said I; “I neither want your advice nor your jeering. Begone, or I'll…” The anger with which I said this made him lay aside his assumed seriousness, he burst into a laugh, and held out his hand towards me.
“Come, give me your hand,” said he; “I did not think you were so good a fellow; frig yourself no more; you are worthy of better fortune, and shall have something more solid than your expedient.”
I was pleased with this frankness and gave him my hand, and said:
“I am not mistrustful when one treats me in this manner, but accept your offer at once.”
“Good!” said he; “Upon my honor, I will come for you to your chamber at twelve o'clock to-night. Button up your breeches, and do not waste good powder by firing in the air in the meantime, I must now leave you; wait a few minutes before you follow, that we may not be seen together; for it might be productive of mischief. Goodbye!”
After the monk's departure, I was lost in wonder at what all this would end in. Though I could not make out what he meant, I had some reliance on his promise, and thought no more of relieving myself by imitating Onan's invention. “What does he mean,” said I to myself, “by giving me something more solid? If it is some young novice, I will have nothing to do with him.” But here I argued like a blockhead, without knowing anything about the subject. Reader, perhaps you are as much in the dark as I was then?-Exactly so, say you: what, is it true that a novice is not such a very objectionable morsel? You must send your prejudices out to grass; taste is everything. What can be more charming than a pretty lad, with a snow white skin, well shaped shoulders, fine fall of the loins, hard buttocks, an arse of a perfect oval, narrow, close, clean and without hair? This does not resemble your leatherbag-like quims where one can enter head first. But do not reproach me with inconsistency that I sometimes praise the slit, at others the arse. You must learn that I have experience in my favor; that I take a woman whenever I can, and if they run scarce, I have no objection to a fine boy. Go to the school of the Grecian sages, or to that of respectable persons of our own days; and you will learn to live.
At midnight I heard some one knock at the door of my cell, and when I opened, I saw it was the good monk come according to his promise, and he directed me to follow him.
“But where are you going to lead me?”
“To the church.”
“You are joking; what to prayers! Your humble servant, I shall go to bed.”
“Follow me, you simpleton; do you not see that I am going up into the organ loft?” said he, as he opened the door and drew me in.
You would hardly guess what I found there! There stood in the middle a table well supplied with delicacies and wines, at which sat three monks, three novices, and a young girl of twenty, as pretty as an angel. Father Casimir was the leader of the joyous company, and he gave me a kind reception.
“Father Silas,” said he, “you are welcome. Father Andrew has told me of your good qualities, and you deserve his protection. Lovemaking, eating, drinking, and laughing, are our occupation here; are you disposed to join us?”
“Zounds! Will I not?” I replied; “if it is only to keep up the character of the cloth, I will do as much as any one; but,” continued I, turning to the rest of the company, “in so saying, I do not mean to disparage any of those present.”
“You are one of us,” said Father Casimir; “place yourself here between this pretty creature and me, and let us crack a bottle in honor of our new companion.”
While the bottle passes round, I will endeavor to amuse the reader with a sketch of the reverend Father Casimir. His Reverence was of the middle size, dark complexion, and of a right priestly corpulence. He was remarkable for his Socratic propensities, and he indulged them with but little restriction. He was an author and much reputed for his wit; as a writer, he was brutal in his satire, coarse in his humor, and indelicate when ironical. He had acquired a name by writings possessing no merit, but full of malignity; and the success of his lampoons consoled him for the horsewhipping which they occasionally procured him. It must however be confessed that it was wrong to abuse him in this manner, since, although the libels appeared under his name, he had done no more than correct what others had fabricated for him. When he discovered any young persons to be possessed of some talents, he endeavored to cultivate them, by giving them subjects to write upon, revising their work, and having it printed, which latter proceeding was often productive of very disagreeable consequences. But he did not much mind this; and as the miser consoles himself after being hooted in the streets by counting over the riches of his iron chest, so the laughter that he excited in public against others, wiped away the tears that he was at times compelled to shed in private by the wrath of individuals.
Thus while he enjoyed the pleasures of literature in his closet, he was able to gratify all his desires by having recourse to the arses of his myrmidons. As a reward for their complaisance, he gave his niece up to them, and she acquitted his debts. The porter of the convent was altogether in his interest, so that the girl, wine, meat, or whatever else he wanted, was introduced without difficulty. He preferred the organ-loft for the scene of his orgies, as it was less liable to interruption, and all were at hand to attend to the regular services in the church, which prevented any suspicion arising.
In spite of all the precautions of Father Casimir to secure his pupils for himself, he was frequently losing them; and they often used those weapons against him, which he had taught them how to handle, and distributed their pasquinades among their fellows. But now I turn to other matters.
Father Casimir's niece was a little lively brunette; her appearance at first sight was rather against her, but further scrutiny made ample amends for that disadvantage. Her neck and bosom were not exactly what they had once been, but she made the most of them. Her eyes were small, but black and sparkling, and had an expression of refined coquetry, and occasionally a spice of lasciviousness. Her conversation was remarkable for its wit and gaiety. In a word, she was all that was necessary for me; and as soon as I found myself seated beside her, those confused emotions which I experienced when I first saw Father Polycarp with Annette, took full possession of me again. Long privation of sensual enjoyments had rendered my general tone of feeling so different that I seemed to have entered upon another state of existence. I looked at my neighbor, and her laughing and easy air made me fully sensible that I should not languish with my desires unsatisfied any longer than I delayed making the proposal. I was well aware that no damsel who meant to play the vestal would be found in the midst of a band of monks, but my good fortune appeared to me so extraordinary, that I hardly knew what to make of it; I trembled and was so fearful of losing the golden opportunity that I had some difficulty in mustering up courage enough to profit by it. My hand was on her thigh, which was pressed against mine; she took my hand and put it through the pocket-hole of her petticoat; I guessed what she wanted and did not hesitate to put my hand where it was required. The touch of a place which I had been so long deprived of, gave me such a thrill of pleasure that all the company perceived it, and one of them cried out.
“Bravo, Father Silas, you are at it!”
I might probably have been somewhat disconcerted by this exclamation if she had not at the very moment given me a kiss and unbuttoned my breeches, when she seized my member with one hand and put the other arms round my neck.
“Look here, my good fathers,” said she, as she drew my weapon from its lurking place; “can any of you show me such a beauty as this?”-.'
The whole company burst into a noisy expression of their admiration, and each congratulated her on the treat she was about to have. Afterwards Father Casimir requested silence, and addressed me in the following terms:
“Father Silas, you have Marianne at your disposal; you see her, and may you excuse me the necessity of proclaiming her good qualities.
“She is accomplished, and will soon make you participate the highest pleasures imagination can conceive; but this enjoyment must be on one condition.”
“What is this condition?” I asked; “must I give my blood?”
