My mother made no mention of what had passed with Mr Aumont. She spoke pleasantly as we walked along the boulevards. She often pointed as a pretty dress in a window, or at a fountain with a beautiful water display, or at some interesting scene that had caught her attention.
I tried to converse with her as naturally as I could, but I was puzzled, to say the least, by what I had seen.
When we arrived back to our apartment, she ordered me to purchase some food from one of the shops on our street, while she went upstairs to set things up for our lunch.
I understood she needed some time alone, and I too felt the need to be by myself.
I therefore strolled for a while along our street, looking at the buildings, studying the shop windows. I was much attracted by the displays of the produce. One shop sold vegetables, with the carrots and artichokes and celery, as artfully arranged if pretty bouquets as if they were flowers. Another shop had various meats, terrines, sausages, and cold cuts, red as fire or white as snow, and placed in small pyramids or little groups where the colours alternated and complemented each other. There was a shop who sold yarn of all the colours of the rainbow. There was a shop who sold fish, small, large, red, grey, black, and blue. And, then again, there was the baker who sold breads of all sizes and cakes of all shapes and puddings whose perfume filled the air.
These shops were so different from the ones I had seen in my hometown, which had been smaller, dirtier, and displayed only a few items, which had been placed on display without any eye for beauty.
I finally entered a little shop that sold cooked meats, pies, roasted vegetables, and many more inviting recipes.
Behind the counter, which was of the purest white, were three people: a man of about sixty, a woman that was of a similar age, and finally a much younger man of about five and twenty.
The older man greeted me cheerfully:
'Good morning, miss! How can we be of service?'
I enquired about what they had, their prices. Then I calculated how much I needed and how much I was prepared to spend of the little money I had in my pocket.
I ordered some stew and some blood sausages, hoping that this would suffice for our lunch as well as our dinner.
'Maurice,' the old man said addressing the young, 'please help this young lady with her purchase.'
This second man picked up the packages and walked out with me.
'I don't live far,' I said.
'That's no bother, miss,' he replied.
I studied him, as we walked. He was very pleasing to the eye: he had jet-black hair and dark eyes of nearly the same colour. His skin was pale, but his lips were full and very red, as if he had been eating cherries and their blood had painted over his skin. The most striking feature was his general comportment, which was full of gayety and energy. He seemed to be of very cheerful disposition, always smiling. Apart from my immediate family, he was the first man I had seen who was not a peasant, dirty in his aspect and rough in his manners. He appeared to be well mannered, and the few words he spoke were uttered in the most delicate tone.
'What's your name, miss?' he asked.
I replied that I was called Eloise.
'I haven't seen you before,' he said.
'We have just moved from ***.'
I wanted to ask him some questions too, not just out of politeness, but because I found myself very curious about this man. So, I was sad when we arrived at my destination.
'I hope I will see you again,' he said.
I very much desired the same, and I said so.
I then walked upstairs to eat with my mother.
We ate at the table almost like strangers who had just met. My mother said a few words, in her usual, pleasant tone, but she appeared distant. She said phrases such as:
'I wonder if your brothers have had much luck.'
Or:
'The season has been pleasant.'
Or again:
'Our shoes need much polishing and the hems of our skirts some dusting after our walk.'
But when I said something in response, she seemed not to hear me. Instead, she ate that simple meal with much attention, as if each morsel she forked interested her very much. She also seemed exceedingly thirsty, as our walk must have tired her, and drank copious amounts of water to quench it.
After we finished our meal, she instructed me to change my clothes, as she desired to take another walk and visit another acquaintance of hers.
'No time for resting,' she said.
Once again, we avoided ordering a cab. I looked around as we walked, and I noticed that all the well-dressed people were, as I had expected, in a private barouche or even a hackney cab. Only tradespeople and maids moved about on foot. This filled me with some shame, as well as some fear that this might become my permanent station.
We arrived at a large building, in size not too dissimilar from the one we had visited in the morning, but with a more severe aspect.
'Here lives the Count of ***,' my mother explained. 'His wife gave him no children, so you will have to entertain yourself, if the occasion presents itself.'
A valet walked us through the building, which was decorated in a much more severe style than the other: the furniture was dark and simple; the few paintings on the walls portrayed priests and noblemen in black clothes; and the curtains on the windows were never fully drawn, so that the light of day peered in in thin, cold blades.
The valet opened the door of a small salon and announced us.
'My dear friend,' my mother called out, when we were left alone.
A man of about sixty stood up to shake her hand. I took him to be the Count of ***. There was something sickly about his appearance: his hair had little hair, and this was grey and kept long around the ears and neck; his skin was grey; his aqueous eyes bulged out of their sockets; his teeth were yellow. To add to this remarkable appearance, he was dressed all in black, except for a shirt that had lost its whiteness, and the cuffs and neck that emerged from his jacket were yellow with age.
'Madam, what pleasure your visit brings me!' he said.
'This is Eloise, my daughter,' my mother said.
The gentleman said a few words of compliments, and we sat down on some hard, wooden chairs.
The conversation moved from topic to topic. My mother enquired after the Count's wife, who was in good health, God be praised, and he, in turn, inquired after my father, of whose demise he hadn't heard of, and about which he made a great demonstration of surprise and sympathy.
Having heard this news, he demanded if we wanted to pray for the deceased. Then, he began to pray with much fervour. His prayer, which he recited aloud, was filled with notions of earthly temptations and images of the punishments which attended the unrepented sinner in the afterlife.
'… And the guilty will be burned, torn apart, skewed,' he would say, 'He would, the unrepentant, the proud, and the vain, be subject to the just wrath of the Almighty. He won't find refuge and protection under Satan. No, God will find him and punish him!'
This went on for a good five or ten minutes. Finally, he asked for mercy, and he was done.
My mother thanked him for his charitable thought and shook his hand.
The Count's forehead was covered with sweat, and he gasped for air from the effort.
Now, my mother began to perorate her cause. Once again, she repeated that, while her two sons could easily find employment being very well educated, she still had me as her charge. She also required protection, as she didn't have an income of her own, and would this man…?
'Ah, my lady!' he said, rolling his eyes to the heavens. 'Ah, madam! Nothing would please me more than to help a pious and devout lady as yourself…'
He then eyed me.
'I fear such talk might worry this young lady…'
My mother glanced at me.
I said I feared nothing.
My mother elbowed me in the ribs.
To this, I said that, indeed, fear of my future filled me so that I couldn't bear this talk much further.
My mother nodded gravely.
'You may then leave us, while we talk.'
'We have a little chapel at the end of the corridor,' the gentleman said, 'you might find some consolation in prayer.'
I then left the room, leaving my mother and our host to discuss my mother's situation. As I was very curious about this, I stood behind the door, which I had left ajar. This allowed me to spy on the conversation undisturbed, as both my mother and the Count appeared to be quite taken by its content.
Mother asked whether he had the ability to assist us, and he, the Count of ***, reminded her that, as a devout Christian, he always tried to assist the needy.
'However,' he said rolling his eyes to the Heavens making much show of sadness, 'I already commit to many causes. Furthermore, I have a group of very devout ladies who assist me in my works of good. I don't believe I would be able to do much for you.'
Mother said she understood, but she added:
'My good friend, I will show you what help I can give you in your search for redemption, if you allow me.'
The old man's eyes opened widely.
'My lady, I couldn't ask for more. You understand, of course…'
'This is all in the spirit of charity,' she said promptly. 'Now, tell me, have you confessed today?'
The man said that he hadn't confessed since the previous Sunday.
'And have you sinned much since?' Mother pressed him.
'Man is a sinful creature, madame. How can I not? Oh, the flesh is weak!'
Mother then said she would help him.
'Penance is the best way to mortify that mortal sin we are born in.'
He took her hand and said:
'Yes, yes. Please tell me.'
'Very well. Now, you will drop your clothes.'
'My clothes?' asked the gentleman.
'Your clothes,' confirmed my mother. 'God has made this day to such perfection that your clothing is sinful.'
He nodded and began to disrobe:
'I've never known this to be a sin, but, as you explain it so clearly, I see that it is so.'
He was soon naked. He was skinny, like an old moribund dog. His bones showed under the yellow skin, except for a protruding paunch, which appeared swollen.
'I require you to get on your knees and ask for forgiveness,' my mother said.
He obeyed.
She then pushed him so that he went on all fours.
I heard him mumble a prayer, which was soon interrupted when my mother slapped his bony buttocks.
'Oh, my!' he cried, surprised.
'You must repent,' she said.
'Yes, yes. That is true.'
She slapped him again.
'Oh, Good Heavens, madam!'
Mother feigned indignation:
'You want me to cease this just punishment? You refuse to accept it? You wish to live in sin?'
'No, no…' he whined.
Then, she hit him again.
'Ow ow!' he cried.
Now, Mother pushed his head on the floor, so that his ass was raised in the air. She lifted her skirts.
'My friend, this is your penance. Do you accept it?' she asked.
'Madam, I accept my destiny,' he said.
She was now squatting above him, so that her private parts wee right above his anus. She pried it open with her hands, and, to my great surprise, she began to piss.
The jet streamed. Some of the warm liquid went into the orifice, while most of it trickled on the man's back and his legs.
'Madam?' he asked, unused to such treatment.
She replied:
'This is but the preparation to make the medicine easier to take.'
Then, having exhausted her urination, which was copious on account of all the water she had drank during lunch, she began probing his anus with her fingers.
'Repent, sinner!' she cried.
'I repent, I repent.'
'Reject Satan and his temptations!'
His eyes bulged so, and his face was crimson.
'Ow, ow! Yes…'
The urine served as lubricant, and my mother had her full fist into that crypt soon.
The gentleman was crying loudly.
Mother now reached forward with her other hand and began masturbating the man, while penetrating him from the rear.
'Yes, yes!' he was now saying. 'The Lord is just! Oh, how I like it… Aaahhh… Madam… You're breaking me….'
Mother was whispering to his ears all the while:
'Take it all… My friend… I can feel how much you enjoy this…'
'Yes… Ah… My orifice is so stretched…'
'But you're so hard,' she said.
'Ahh… Yes… I'm going to come… Ahhh!'
I saw two little sprays of semen squirt out of his penis.
Mother now extracted her hand from his anus and massaged his penis a little longer.
'You did good, my friend. Let me console you,' she whispered.
'Ah, madam,' he said. 'You have taught me much today.'
'Will you keep my case in mind?'
That gentleman looked up to her and, panting from the exhaustion, whimpered:
'I will see what I can do.'