The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER FOUR

Time went by, and the two sisters, though separated by distance and by the different societies in which they moved, lived their lives happily. Both were very content with their husbands, though the one was virile and not very legal, and the other was very legal and not so virile any longer.

The influence of married life began to take its inevitable toll upon George Vaudrez. He continued, to adore his wife, but his cheeks were sunken and hollow, his once sparkling eyes had turned dull and reddish, and the pouches under them showed dark rings. His hands trembled continually and his gait had become slow and deliberate.

“God almighty, George!” his friend Albert in Paris exclaimed every time George showed up to pick up his elixir. “You are not supposed to use these drops every night! I had only intended them for your bridal night. If you keep this up, I cannot be responsible for the consequences.”

“What can I do?” answered George with trembling voice. “My wife, my charming wife, who seems so calm and cool by day, turns into a veritable monster of passionate lust by night. I would love to resist; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!”

“You are not kidding. It is very weak, indeed. If you don't take a six-week vacation, you are a dead man!”

George knew that this was true. But how could he leave on a vacation and not take his dear Florentine with him? If he did, farewell to sorely needed rest! He decided to stay home and not to make his condition worse with all the troubles that surround a prolonged vacation trip.

Florentine had nothing to complain about as far as her own intimate pleasures were concerned. As a matter of fact, if they had only talked about George's problem for a few minutes, the poor man could have avoided all the pain and trouble from which he was suffering. But so great was the taboo of openly discussing the intimacies between man and wife, that death was staring him in the face. His young wife did not appreciate his strenuous efforts and infinitely preferred the preliminary caresses which brought her a proficient amount of climaxes. It must be admitted that George, despite his physical condition, still stuck to the age-old rule that husbands and lovers, if they are to be gentlemen, knock before entering.

Under the caresses of George's expert fingers, Florentine experienced the highest flights of lust and passion. As a matter of fact, the climaxes she received from his lips and fingers were far superior to the weak tremor she noticed once the union was completed. If she had only admitted this openly, she would have saved George a lot of unnecessary headaches and worries. But, she was afraid of making him angry. Moreover, a black cloud hung over the blue sky of their happiness. She had been married almost six months now, and as of yet there was no sign of pregnancy. This basically, was the cause of her infinite demands upon George's waning prowess.

Aunt Briquart only smiled when she listened to Florentine's confidences. She was sure that Julia did everything in her power to prevent what Florentine so desperately wanted!

Spring flew by, summer came to a close and Florentine felt somewhat tired from the heat of the season. George had almost neared a stage of total collapse.

“My dear Vaudrez,” his doctor, who had come over for lunch one day, said to him, “you and I have been friends for a long time. I think you have to hear the truth. If you do not leave as quickly as possible for a rest cure on the sea, I am afraid that the bell will toll for you come next spring. Impotence is beating at your door!”

“Doctor, you are joking. What about my wife?”

“My dear friend, your wife can do whatever she pleases. I consider her the main factor of your miserable condition, and as your doctor I order that this factor must be eliminated.”

“But to live a month, or possibly even six weeks away from her!? Impossible!”

“I have no intention to beat around the bush. I trust that I have made myself perfectly clear.”

“You certainly did, doctor. I am sorry that I am not twenty years younger.”

“That, my dear friend, is something which I keep repeating to myself every day,” smiled the doctor.

“Yes, but Florentine is still a young woman of only twenty! I hate to leave her alone.”

“Well, what do you have your aunt for- Madame Briquart?”

“Oh, it would be nice if she would stay here during my absence. But she is convinced that the nearness of the forest gives her rheumatism, that the humid country air contributes to her asthma, and that mosquitoes will drive her crazy! What can I do?”

“We can arrange things! If the Colonel's wife does not have country aspirations, why don't you send the women to St. Gildas in Bretagne? There is a beautiful rest home there close to the beach. It is run by the nuns of a nearby nunnery. As a matter of fact, it was at the same place that Abelard met his Heloise, and you know what happened to him. They cut the tail off the old fox!”

“You mean that men are not allowed?”

“Positively not! Even the husbands have to stay in the village overnight. Oh, you can put your mind fully a ease.”

“Don't think that I am jealous, but…”

“I understand. You can send her there with confidence.”

That night, George painted such a beautiful picture of St. Gildas, that the ladies did nothing but daydream about a vacation in Bretagne. And within fourteen days they arrived at the gates of the nunnery, mildly nonplussed by the primitive simplicity of the place, and totally flabbergasted when they were shown their little bare cells.

Madame Briquart was positively furious at her nephew's stunt. But, Florentine was enchanted by the novelty of the whole thing. The next morning she went out to the beach barefoot in the sand, catching crabs and collecting clams for the evening dinner.

Her simple pleasures were soon to turn into pure elation. The Duchess of Herisey and her son Gordon arrived. The boy was a good-looking youth of about eighteen but the light fuzz on his chin, his large, blue eyes and his rosy complexion did not yet “announce his virility,” as the old nuns whispered to one another during mass.

He looked like the angel guarding the Lord's tomb, they whispered, even though he had passed the age limit beyond which the members of the stronger sex were no longer allowed in the community. But it is always possible to reach a compromise with Heaven, and the Duchess was a true pillar of society, not to mention her immense contributions to charity and to the Church. She firmly declared that Gordon had just reached the age of fifteen and no one dared to question her further.

The boy soon became Florentine's staid companion on her long walks along the beach. Madame Briquart and the Duchess became good friends, and they allowed 'the children'-as they were called in the nunnery-to wander around undisturbed.

Naturally, Cherub, as he was nicknamed, fell hopelessly in love with his companion, and in his overheated imagination he became the greatest scoundrel of all time. But, unfortunately, he was shy, and he did not know how to phrase the desires that made a turmoil out of his brain and put a constant strain on his loins. Only his eyes made no secret of his feelings toward the young woman.

Florentine was highly amused by the passionate admiration of the young chap and for a solid month she flirted with him. Madame Briquart was bored to death and finally came up with the brilliant idea that she simply had to return to Paris for a week to consult her physician.

“I will be back long before it is time for you to leave. Besides, I am leaving you in the good care of the Duchess, and I am sure that George will have no reason to worry, even if he finds out that I am in Paris…”

And really, there was no reason to object. Madame Briquart returned in haste to Paris and for four delicious days she breathed the air of the city she loved so much. Then, suddenly, a telegram from George was delivered to Florentine, “I want to spend the winter in Menton. Come home immediately. Love, George.”

“Madame, what am I supposed to do?” Florentine asked the Duchess.

“My dear child, you are too young to travel alone. You simply must have a companion, and I think that Gordon is the perfect one.”

“Cherub?”

“Why not? He is old enough to take on the responsibilities as your traveling companion, and still young enough not to compromise you. Will you accept my protection?”

“If it is all right with you, I would be delighted.”

“Then it is done! Cable your husband and pick up your aunt on your way through Paris. I am sure that she will be happy not to have to return to the beaches of St. Gildas. You can leave tomorrow.”

The climate of Bretagne has its charms, especially if you like gray skies. It also has a few inconveniences not the least of which is the total unpredictability of the weather. When George's telegram arrived the weather was beautiful and balmy but when Florentine took her leave from the nuns and the Duchess, a raging storm howled around the cliffs, completely drowning out the plaintive cries of the seagulls.

Gordon had received detailed instructions from his mother on how a young gentleman is supposed to behave himself when a young woman does him the honor of accepting his company. Needless to say, the young man did not entirely agree with his mother's views, but he was wise enough no to let her know this. Florentine liked being spoiled by his many attentions, and she treated him as if he were a child. It made it a lot easier for Gordon to be bold and daring, and many of the liberties he took would have been frowned upon had his real age been known. Neither he, nor Florentine, noticed the heavy snowfall till they had reached the outskirts of Nantes. They noticed that the train had slowed down to a crawl, and even a man on horseback could have easily overtaken the huffing and puffing engine. But this did not disturb our two happy voyagers. Gordon had covered up Florentine under a fur blanket, and he had snuggled up very close to her under it. It was nice and warm, and the weather did not look so terrible to them at all.

The short distance to Le Mans took two hours to cover and by the time the train had reached La Loupe, the station master announced that it was impossible for the train to go any further. The situation had become serious. Florentine had stopped laughing. Suddenly, her companion did not look so terribly young any longer, and the prospect of being coupled up with him all night in the train did not appeal to her.

But at Bretoncelles, the train stopped abruptly. A half-hour went by, and nothing happened. The train did not budge.

“My God! What are we going to do, little Gordon?”

She had, half-jokingly, adopted this manner of speech in St. Gildas. She called him little Gordon, though he was six feet tall, and he called her Madame.

It was bitterly cold.

Two things had to be done. Telegraph and reassure the family, and try to find a place to spend the night. When the first panic was over, they could laugh again.

There was over two feet of snow. It looked as if they might have to spend three or four days in the village. For the Parisian, who is spoiled by the luxuries of life, this is nothing short of a disaster, but for the two young people who had been hardened during the fall by their stay in the nunnery, it had become a joyous adventure.

“Madame, I shall be your horse,” Gordon said, blushing violently. “I cannot let you walk in this snow. Therefore, I will have to carry you on my shoulders.”

Now it was Florentine's turn to blush deeply.

“Blast!” she said to herself. “He's a little devil!” But she climbed obediently on his surprising strong and muscular shoulders.

It makes no difference how green and inexperienced one is. It is still very exciting to carry the woman you love on your back, and by the time Gordon had reached the nearest inn, he was terribly agitated.

The people of the inn, sensing a windfall, did their best to make the travelers as comfortable as possible and, after a good dinner, taken with a bottle of wine, Florentine's spirits were soon re-animated. The evening flew by quickly, even more so than the ones at St. Gildas.

By nine o'clock they were sitting in front of the cozy fireplace, talking about a thousand different little things. First their conversation was innocent, but soon those little remarks and intimacies under which the little devil god Cupid hides became more and more pronounced. Florentine was very glad that her husband believed her to be in the care of Madame Briquart. Even though Gordon was a mere child, as she told herself, George might not have been entirely pleased with the set-up.

Suddenly, a loud voice interrupted them, “Sir, Madame, your room is ready. You can go upstairs now. The blankets are warm and the mattress is soft. Anyway, two young people like you won't be cold for long when you are together.”

The simple remark paralyzed Florentine and excited Gordon who, not losing his presence of mind, whispered in her ear, “Don't give us away. Don't be afraid, I am a gentleman.”

But these words did not quiet down Florentine's misgivings. “He is a mere child,” she kept telling herself. Nevertheless, she was not very convinced.

“If you tell him, he's going to throw us out in the cold,” Gordon warned her, “and that won't be funny at all!”

It was true. Florentine saw that she had no choice, and she followed the young man upstairs without further protest. When they arrived in the room, they looked at each other and began to laugh.

“Well… you get into the bed, and I spend the night in this chair.”

“Oh no… that is terribly uncomfortable and cold. I couldn't let you do that! Just get out of the room for a few minutes and then come back.”

Gordon left the room and was back within five minutes. He was flushed in the face and threw a bold and curious glance in the direction of the bed. Florentine lay there, her head resting on the pillow, her golden tresses flowing. The covers outlined her lovely body.

Gordon was shivering. Ideas, ideas that his mother had never given him, were bubbling around in his head.

“No,” he said to himself, “no, I will not do that. She is under my protection and I cannot make use of this opportunity. And yet…”

He sat down upon the best chair and watched Florentine like a faithful dog. Within ten minutes his teeth were chattering and, despite his agitation, he was cold as an icicle.

Florentine felt sorry for him. “My God, my little Gordon,” she said, “you are very brave, but you will catch your death on that chair. Honi soit qui mal y pense… come over here and sleep next to me. Completely dressed, of course,” she added hastily.

When he heard those sweet words, Cherub thought he would faint.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Madame Vaudrez.

“I'm frozen.”

“Go get a warm water bottle, and come warm yourself up.”

It didn't take long to find one, and with chaste precautions the young man slid it under Florentine's feet. He shivered voluptuously, but, buttoning up his coat, he stretched out rigidly next to his companion. She began to laugh.

“What do you think my husband would say if he saw us?”

“He would probably not like it,” said the boy who, despite the miserable cold outside, was beginning to get pretty warm.

Neither one of them could sleep and they began to talk again. Suddenly, Gordon could no longer contain himself. He embraced Florentine and told her. “I cannot resist any longer, I think I am in love with you.”

“Oho, my little baby, what's getting into your mind?” Florentine asked, trying to be lighthearted.

“You call me a little baby, but it is a little baby who loves to go back to his mother's breast.”

“Really? And what about my husband?”

Poor Cherub. Huge beads of perspiration appeared upon his forehead and his beautifully formed nostrils flared like those of a snorting bull. Florentine was so beautiful, and Gordon was a newcomer. But there are things which one knows instinctively, because his charming neighbor called out suddenly:

“Good God, Gordon, stop it! You are tickling me!”

But he did not stop.

“What do you think you are doing!”

“It means I adore you!”

“And what does that prove?”

“I would like you to be the first person I make love to.”

“Your virginity? You are offering it to me? That's sweet of you. But… haven't you ever…? Oh, come on, tell me about your little affairs!”

“No, no… I swear. I have never touched a woman like I touch you. Either my mother, or one of my tutors is always there.”

“Oh, what a horrible situation. Now that you have told me this, I cannot keep you any longer in my arms. It's your own fault that you have to freeze. But we must be good. What you have in mind is terribly evil, Gordon. I am a married woman! It's… it's terrible!”

“Oh, no! It's very nice, and I love you!”

“Scoundrel! Go away!”

Florentine tried to push him out of the bed, but she must have made the wrong calculation, because instead of on the floor, Gordon wound up in the middle of the bed.

“Oh, you rascal… stop monkeying around! Gordon, get out of the bed!”

Actually, Florentine was surprised when Gordon instantly obeyed. He got up and quietly began to unbutton his pants. Suddenly, Florentine let out a little cry of surprise. “Stop… stop it, I tell you… Baby, I am really beginning to get mad. Your virginity, you say… really, the idea is very amusing, and if I were not a decent woman, we could… but I love my husband. Come on… don't… oh, you little devil… stop it! Don't… don't tickle me… you are tickling me! I'll tell your mother!”

But Gordon continued to tickle her, and the pleasant stimulation made the young woman giggle nervously. Soon her giggling turned into a stifled sigh.

Cherub took full advantage of her changing mood and Florentine was incapable of refusing the offering he made her. She had to admit to herself that she no longer just permitted Gordon his little games, but that she was fully cooperating. And she also did not fail to notice a remarkable difference between this feeling of passion and the one she was used to. Her resistance lessened and the happy Gordon received full pardon.

A first time… a second… a third…

even a fourth! Suddenly, in a flash, Florentine understood. Little Baby was not offering at the doorstep. His fourth climax was as strong as the first, and Florentine could feel the hot liquid squirt deep inside her belly. It was so entirely different from her husband's feeble drippings that she suddenly realized she would never have any children by George.

She thought, “In this world, faith is our only salvation. I'll conserve that of my husband and do my best to make him a happy father, even if it has to be without his participation.”

And, to give joy to her dearly beloved husband, Florentine overwhelmed the boy with her attention. Gordon showed himself extremely prodigal and the night, and that next day, and the night that followed were very well employed.

The snowfall had stopped. The train could get through to Paris, and Gordon, according to his mother's instructions, delivered the young wife at her aunt's home. The perfect gentleman.

Thereupon, Florentine went with her aunt to Charmettes, where she rejoined her husband.

Six months later the doctor told Monsieur Vaudrez, who was concerned about his wife's health, “Don't worry, my dear friend. Another three months, and the final crisis will produce a beautiful baby.”

“Doctor, do you really think so?”

“I not only think so… I am certain of it. The vacation I prescribed for you did you a lot of good, my friend. You are still a very healthy man. I wish you a boy.”

George was elated. He embraced his young wife passionately. Florentine blushed deeply- no doubt from happiness and devotion.