The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The sudden, premature death of Michael was a terrible blow for Julia. She had deeply loved him with every fiber of her being, and his parting almost killed her, too.

They had tried to hide the reason of the duel from her, but one of her vicious acquaintances-the moralist type that seems to grow like cancer in every society-had anonymously written her all the sordid details, including the fact that Michael had not even defended himself. She alone, the vituperative letter concluded, has been responsible for her lover's death.

“He must have cursed me upon his deathbed,” Julia said to Dorothy.

That, of course, had not been the case, but like all those who suffer, Julia found a certain comfort in wallowing in her guilt. Her health of body and mind suffered terribly; she did not even notice that her salon was almost empty on visiting days.

Dorothy and Florentine surrounded her with tender and loving care. The influence and the impeccable name of Count Maxim de Berny, who had come to the defense of Julia's honor wherever and whenever possible, made the rumors that spread through Paris slowly die down. De Paliseul was expelled from the Club de Topinambours because of behavior unworthy of a man of his standing, and finally, things returned to normal.

But Julia's future showed nothing but grayness and loneliness. The months of suffering, illness, and pain had taken her youthful beauty, and the sadness of her heart showed in her eyes.

Julia retired completely from society and bestowed all the love of her entire being upon Claire.

“In another year, I'll take her out of the boarding school,” she had said to her trusted maid, “and the girl will be a great comfort to me. She will ban the loneliness from my door step.”

And indeed, Claire, who had grown into a beautiful young woman, brought a ray of sunshine to Julia's heart. A few years went by and time, which heals all wounds, had its healing effect upon Julia. The smile returned to her lips and, though she often cried in silence, her beauty, more mature now, had returned. She was almost light-hearted when, two years after Michael's death, she decided to return to La Bidouze.

One afternoon when she was sitting before the window of one of the rooms overlooking the wide driveway toward the castle bridge, she noticed in the distance the white habit of a Dominican monk. Next to him walked a tall, dark young man. Coming closer, she noticed that the youngster was very good looking.

Dorothy announced the arrival of the venerable Father Martin and his pupil Don Pedro. The boy had received all the instructions which the Dominican College had to offer, and passed his exams with flying colors. The time had come according to the abbot, when he was to be returned to his Mama, as Pedro called Julia.

It had not been easy for him, because his free gypsy nature had been difficult to subdue. The boy had known a life free of all conventions, his body had reached early maturity, and at times the severity of his teachers had seemed almost unbearable. But whenever his school-work had become too boring, or his teachers too severe, Pedro had recalled the lovely body and features of his beautiful “Mama,” and told himself, “Just wait till I am big and grown-up… till I am somebody… she has promised me… she would be the first one…”

Julia barely remembered her rash promise. But for Pedro it had been the one and only motivation to complete his difficult, hard studies for all those years. Julia was very glad to see her boy again, and enjoyed him calling her Mama. She thanked the good father for all his trouble and told him that she intended to keep the boy at La Bidouze till the University would open at the end of the summer. The monk left La Bidouze castle, laden with gifts.

Julia gave Pedro everything he had ever dreamed of. His own apartment in the castle, complete with living room, bedroom, study and library to which he alone had the key. From Paris she ordered everything a young man of standing needs including beautiful books for his library. From her estates she gave him a good dog, a spirited horse, and a hunting rifle.

She had made up her mind to arrange a marriage between Claire and Pedro, to make them her heirs, and she was therefore extremely surprised when, one evening. Pedro suddenly knelt in front of her and kissing her hands, reminded her shyly of that promise given a long, long time ago.

Julia deliberated. “I have,” she thought to herself, “not done wrong when I promised him, after that punishment… And young or old, it's the only way for a woman to get things done… I will keep my word. I shall teach him what my poor Michael understood so well. That ecstasy only reaches its highest peaks when the body is guided by the combination of spirit and heart. The tender expression of love, and all that goes with it, depends upon the first woman a young man possesses. She alone has it in her power to make his love-life beautiful, or a never ending obscenity. But what am I thinking of? He is only expressing his gratitude. He does not really remember what I promised. But, if he does,” she continued to herself, “I will guard and guide him to make sure that my little Claire will be happy with a perfect husband.”

That night, when Dorothy helped her mistress prepare for bed, she told her maid that she wanted the nightgown with silk and lace, the one with the embroidered butterflies which Michael had liked so much. Under it, she wore nothing.

When Dorothy had left, Julia opened the windows of her bedroom, and leaning upon the sill, she stared up at the pale moon and the sparkling stars.

She heard a sound behind her and suddenly she was caught by two strong, young arms. She turned around slowly, not in the least surprised to see Pedro.

“Mama,” he stammered, barely able to suppress his excitement, “I love you!”

“I love you, too, my dear child. But we have time enough to say that to one another. This hour is hardly fitting to come to me.”

“I love you, Mama,” repeated the young man, “please tell me, what other hour could be more fitting for telling you this. Look at the beautiful moon and stars, listen to the rustling of the brook and wind through the treetops. We are alone, completely alone. I was a poor little gypsy when you found me starving in the bushes. You took me into your home and, I know, also into your heart. You have made me what I am today. But, if you extinguish the flame in my heart which has kept me going through all these years, I wish that you would have left me to die in those bushes. And you know… Mama… what flame I mean!”

Julia knew, but she wanted to hear it.

“Have you forgotten? You promised me! When you found me again after I had run away… you promised me severely, but when you talked to me, I knew that you loved me. Though I was a mere child then, I knew that I deserved the punishment. But we were alone then, and there was nobody to laugh at me. And you took me on your lap, and you said things to me which I have never forgotten. I was naked, and your hands caressed me, giving me a feeling I had never felt before or since. You cradled me in your arms, Mama, without bothering about my nakedness. And it was then that you promised me, if I would behave and do as I was told, that once more I would feel your tender caresses; this time not the pain of punishment, but the secrets of love between man and woman. And that is what I beg of you now!”

“You have really never…”

“No! To have a woman in a boy's college… it's impossible.”

“And other things…”

“Not that, either! The temptation was great, but you had told me that I would become a miserable man without backbone if I were not capable of containing myself. And I have won!

And tonight, dear Mama, tonight, please teach me-not how to love; that is not necessary, because my heart is brimming over. But how to express it, Please, Mama, teach me!”

Julia had always felt some regret that there was no chapter in her memory like that of Florentine and her little Cherub. Long, long ago it seemed, Florentine had told her about the young man she called Cherub. The boy had been a virgin and Florentine, who, had been stranded with the boy in bad weather, had spent the night with him in a little town near Paris, named La Loupe. Nine months later, her sister had been delivered of her beautiful blond boy, a face which had made her husband, George Vaudrez, deliriously happy. George had gone to his rewards, firmly believing that he had fathered a son.

Julia had often dreamed about a virginal Cherub and Pedro's pure words did not fall on deaf ears. She threw her arms around him and looked him deep in the eyes.

“That is your greatest desire?” she asked softly. “Are you very, very sure of that?”

“Oh yes, yes,” Pedro exclaimed with a passion that knew no bounds.

“But my dearest child, do you realize that this heart at whose gates you are pounding, died a long time ago?”

“Please, no… don't talk about that… I know… the other one… that you have lost him… I don't hate him any longer… and the fire of my love for you will make you forget him… forever! Please, I beg of you… be mine. Be mine in the way you used to belong to him. Give me the same caresses… the same kisses… the same little cries of your love and lust… be mine… be mine!!!”

And Pedro kissed Julia, covering her with hot passionate kisses. “Come here…”

Julia squirmed out of his passionate embrace and pulled him toward the couch. Her heart was pounding. And though she did not exactly feel a deep love for the boy in that sense, her body had become excited for the first time in years. And she was afraid that she would destroy Pedro's trusting heart if she were too reserved.

“What do you want to do? Let's go into your bedroom!”

“No my child… here.” And Julia reclined upon the pillows.

Pedro kissed her hair, her forehead, her hands. The child had become a man. A chaste man, but the blood in his veins had reached the boiling point. Julia knew that she could not postpone the crisis, lest it would end in a miserable failure of premature ejaculation.

She motioned for him to undress himself and this time there was no punishment forthcoming. Pedro did not have to be asked twice. In no time he stood before Julia in all his glorious nakedness. Slowly she got up and walked toward him. “You are beautiful,” she, said simply. The silken negligee which covered her body was soon loosened by Pedro's feverish hands. Despite her sufferings, Julia's body was still as gorgeous as ever. Pedro had soon cupped one of her breasts, covering it with wild, passionate kisses.

“Lie down here, close to me, my darling,” Julia said. Passion had her in its grip now. “Put your chest upon my bosom, your lips against mine. Our breath should mix… let your tongue search for mine… put your hands around my hips and move wherever your feeling tell you to do so… and here, here… deep inside me… let my love juices baptize you… flood me with those of your loins and let us enjoy together the rites of love!”

Pedro fumbled a little, but Julia was very understanding and she guided his throbbing spear toward her love grotto so that Pedro might enjoy his initiation, and he soon found his spear firmly imbedded in Julia's warm sheath. He had never been so happy. His entire nervous system vibrated from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, and he shook as if he had been hit by lightning.

Julia had stretched herself upon the wide bed, receiving Pedro with wide open thighs, taking his libation deep inside her belly. She had, without the boy's knowledge, played with her clitoris to augment her feelings. She wanted to be able to come at the same moment Pedro did.

The moment came quickly. For the first time in his life, a groan escaped Pedro's panting chest which announced the highest ecstasy of carnal pleasure. Because of its enormous intensity, it had almost been painful.

For a long time afterward he remained motionless in Julia's tender embrace. It seemed indescribably delicious to him to smell this undefined, intoxicating woman smell.

Usually the first experience is so weakening for a young man that he would want to fall asleep in the arms of his loved one. But here Julia drew the line. Reluctantly Pedro left her bed, after having made her promise him to teach him all there was to know in the art of love. They kissed tenderly, and Pedro went to his own quarters to spend the rest of the night.

During the three months they stayed at La Bidouze, Julia taught Pedro all she had learned about love. She also made it plain that in the final analysis, the goal of theory is the exercise of practice. She did not spoil the boy. On the contrary, she never failed to point out the disastrous results of licentiousness, intemperance and debauchery. She also warned him against the unnatural practices with members of his own sex which might cause him to waver between man and woman forever, and did not fail to tell him that a clean whore was, if the necessity truly arose, infinitely better than masturbation. The fantasies which he might create in his mind, while playing with himself, could never be approached by reality. She warned him that no fate was worse than the loneliness of the masturbator.

She combined the good care of a mother with those of a practiced teacher and she succeeded in moving the strings of the boy's heart so that she was sure of a beautiful melody of love within it.

The day arrived and Pedro had to leave for the University. Madame de Corriero had a long, last talk with the boy who had wanted to become her lover, and whom she wanted to be her son. She talked to him about his future, warned him against the dangers of excess and told him not to return till he had his degree.

Pedro protested, but he knew that the tiny body of his Mama hid a will of iron. As soon as she had said, “I want it,” he knew that he could only obey.

Three years went by, and Pedro left the University with his doctorate. Marame de Corriero was at La Bidouze, and he counted the hours as the train crawled through the countryside. When he arrived late that night, leaping up the stairs, she did not answer his knocking, and the door to her bedroom was securely bolted. The next morning Julia explained to him, as tenderly as possible that the things which then were a necessity, would today have been positively nasty.

“Youth belongs to youth, my boy,” she said. “I hope that you will always remember your Mama with love and tenderness. I have punished a little brat with the rod, I have made a man out of an adolescent. And that is the end of my role. I hope that you will save your love for one whose heart will beat your rhythm. The future, happiness and love… my dear son, there goes the very embodiment…” and she pointed at Claire who slowly walked toward them.

Pedro's protestations were very feeble indeed. Claire, who looked like a brilliant spring morning, made the beautiful image he held of Julia in his mind fade quickly.

And so it happened that Julia's wish came true. Her two foster children fell in love, and they needed no help from her. It did Julia's heart incredible good when she saw the tender love bloom between these two beautiful young people.

Before she left La Bidouze, she was happy to see Pedro and Claire get married. She settled a large tract of land in their names, which included a marble quarry. With his mining degree Pedro would undoubtedly know how to extract the riches out of his mountains.

“I believe that I have made two people very happy,” Madame de Corriero said to herself when she returned to Paris.