Chapter 10:Lily meets Gustav:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Cy Twombly - Cold Stream

We are waiting in the reception area for my son Gustav to meet Lily. He enters and looks at her. Lily catches her breath. He is so like me. His eyes, his hair, the expression on his face, the way he regards her.

“You are my new Maman,” he asks?

“I am another Mother for you, “ says Lily. “You have one in heaven and one here below. That makes two, doesn’t it?”

“Oui,” Gustav says as he flashes a small smile. “And you are American?

“Oui,” replies Lily. “Yes, I am an American. Je suis une américaine . Did I pronounce the words correctly?”

“Oui, parfait. I like your accent.”

“Oh, I hope you will help me with my French. I am just learning it and I have so much to learn that I will need a lot of help. And your English is so good.”

“Yes, I do speak English very well. I have been practicing since Papa left for America to find and return with a Mother for me.”

“Do you like stories? I am asking because I thought maybe we could write some in French and English. That way we could learn together. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes. I do like writing stories. I have already written some that I will show you. Shall I get them?”

“Later,” I say. “We have had a long journey. Tomorrow would be better.”

Lily kneels down to be on a level with him and says, “Whenever you are ready to show them to me, I will be delighted to read them. I can’t wait!”

Gustav smiles and says to her, “I think I am going to like you very much. I hope so. I do not want a wicked stepmother.”

Lily laughs and says, “I would love to hug you and kiss you. Maybe when you know me better you will let me. I will wait until you are ready. But please hurry, as I think I love you already.”

Gustav solemnly holds out his hand and Lily takes it in her own. She has tears in her eyes, and brushes them away. Her mouth trembles. Gustav watches her face carefully.

“Please don’t cry. Please don’t be sad. Bientot, soon, just wait a little.”

“All the time you need is yours,” she says to him.

I am choking and I lean to help Lily to her feet and lead her upstairs. She is sobbing as we climb the stairs, hiding her face from me.

We enter our rooms and she turns to come into my arms, hiding her face in my chest.

“He is so beautiful. Just like you. He looks just like you. He is so beautiful I can’t believe it. Such perfect manners. Such a beautiful little boy. I love him so much I can’t stand it.”

“Hush, hush,” I say to her. Please, it’s perfectly all right. I know he will love you. I know you will make him happy with you.  You are as perfect for him as you are for me. Oh, Lily, I love you so. You are my perfect Lily. I knew that right away when I met you. I just didn’t know how to convince you. That took me some time to learn.” I tilt her face up, and I kiss away her tears until she smiles; then I know everything is all right.

"Tu es parfaite pour moi."

I have fallen in love with her all over again.

Chapter 9:Ecstasy:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Cy Twombly - Leda

Cy Twombly - Leda 3

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Lily rolls over on top of me while I am now soft and still in her. She puts her face on my neck and begins to sob. Her body shakes and I know she still has unresolved tension even after all that. The stored tension of a lifetime is now leaking out in sobbing, but that will never be enough to dispel it. I hold her tightly to me. I don’t want to slip out now as I wait to get hard again. I know what I am going to do next and the thought is making me hard very fast.

I know if I don’t fix this now, she will remain voracious and insatiable for the rest of our lives. She will never be completely sated. I realize the advantages of this, but I am too experienced now to not know the negative, as I remember Madame Walter. No, a sexually crazed Lily is not what I want.

I kiss her tenderly. I am not going to comfort her. She is an adult, not a child like Suzanne. “Ah, Lily, you want more. You have held all your feelings in much too long, much too long.” I begin to caress her, to arouse her again. She is in for it now.

I move inside her slowly, carefully, deeply and dirtily. I am beginning to give her what is known in Paris as a dirty fuck.  My hand seeks her breasts, her nipples which I fondle then pinch, a little roughly. She winces. I move to her clit and rub it in circles until she begins to writhe again.  I hold her ass tight to me, then I slip one finger of my hand around her anus, closer and closer to her opening. I feel her tense. Yes, she is wondering what I am doing.  I hum in her ear and blow into it. She whimpers, then moans. Yes, she is not finished, my Lily. Well, she will be after this.

I lick my fingers and then I insert one in her anus. She startles, says, “No, no, don’t do that, Georges, please don’t do that.” She starts to move away but I hold her fast. She realizes now that I am not going to let her go, and she begins to pant in fear. What is this man she hardly knows, whom she has married, going to do to her. She is in his power, she thinks.

If she only knew.

Now I insert a second finger and move both of them around. “No! I don’t want you to do this!” she almost screams. I pay no attention to her and just hold her tighter as she pushes harder to escape. Then I still my fingers, and remove them, and hold her, then I take my other hand and put my finger inside her cunt. Slowly, carefully and she is so wet. She sighs, thinking I am obeying. I put two more fingers inside her and move them slowly and purposefully. I kiss her lips, her hair, her ear and taste her all down her neck and throat and breasts, and stomach until I reach her folds and continue. “No, no, please, no not that.” I pay no attention to her and I lick her from her clit down to her entrance and then my tongue enters her and she shivers and moans. “No, please, no,” but she doesn’t mean it.  I suck her into my mouth and she trembles. I begin to take her to the edge but not too close.

I stop and she moans, but I put my cock inside her again and she moves closer to me. Then my fingers begin to move to her ass and she stiffens, wary now. I put one, then two in and circle inside, then I scissor them and she gasps. I feel her surprise. I increase the movement of my fingers and she tries to twist away. I pull out of her, flip her over and my cock is at the entrance to her ass in seconds and I go in an inch or so. She is completely surprised and screams, “No no not that. I won’t have that!”

I whisper in her ear, “You still have all the power, Lily, only you just don’t know it right now.” If she would go completely passive and just lie there, I would immediately stop. It is not too late for that. She twists and tries to get away, but I hold her very tight.

“No, no, no, please not that, please, no, I am not that kind of woman, I am not, no, no, no, please don’t do this.” And she begins to cry.  But I am not going to stop and comfort her. I push in a little more, and I threaten, “Your tears are not going to stop me, Lily. Try something else.”

Then she really tries to get away, twist, writhe, squirm, turns and thrashes but it doesn’t work. I am ready for her. When she calms I push in a little more. So she renews her fight with me. As long as she resists I do not enter her more. But as soon as she exhausts herself and slows, I renew my efforts to get inside her ever more deeply. She is still on her stomach, her face in the pillow. Her sobbing increases, and her head thrashes back and forth.  I push a little deeper and I feel a slight relaxation of her spincter muscles. Now I know it is just barely beginning to feel pleasurable.

I push in just a little more and I feel her give. But I don’t want this. I want her resistance. I provoke her.

“It’s beginning to feel good, isn’t it, Lily. You are beginning to like it, aren’t you. I know you are going to love it!”  Now she really thrashes around. “No, no, stop! I shall throw myself overboard the first chance I get! I won’t live with a man who does this to me!” And she begins to bite and tear at the pillow in her rage.

“You still have all the power, Lily, why don’t you use it?”

Then she screams at me. Her rage is infantile rage, it goes so far back in time. Now she is no longer fighting me, she is fighting herself. This is what I want. Yes, yes, yes, this is what I want. 

She holds up her closed hand. “See this. This is your heart!” she screams. “I am going to dash it on the rocks, throw it into the sea, grind it under my feet, spit on it. I am going to put it in my mouth and tear it to shreds with my teeth, then swallow it and defecate it out, then smear it into the dirt!” And she begins sobbing again. She tears more at the pillow until the feathers start floating out, flying about the room. She is demented now.

“No, you are not. Because I won’t let you,” I say.

I push in deeper but I am barely halfway into her so I go in even deeper, but slower. I have no wish to hurt her.  She twists and twists, so I place my teeth at the nape of her neck and bite carefully. She senses the primal impulse of this, that I could snap her neck, kill her, and then fuck her still warm body. I could throw her overboard and it would be assumed she had jumped. This she knows intuitively. And she knows I am going to get my way with her.

She tries to get up by rising on her knees and I allow this, just a little, as I sink deeper into her. She moans and tries to crawl away, but she doesn’t stand a chance. “Try something else, Lily,” I taunt.

“Oh, you beast, you monster! I should have known! Why didn’t I know! Why did I say yes! I am in your power as I feared!"

“No you are not,” I say. “You are not.”

Now she is violent. She has renewed strength as she fights for her life, because that is exactly what she is fighting for. She thinks she cannot live with a filthy disgrace like this. She screams, she pounds the bed, she grabs the pillow bringing it up and tears at it again and now more feathers fly. She twists her neck to bite me and catches my arm. Her teeth sink in and she bites as hard as she can. Blood runs out of her mouth, down my arm, all over the sheets. I laugh at her. She grabs at the pillow with her upraised hands and tears at it more, shredding it with her hands.  The feathers float all over the room now in clouds that fall on us, in our hair, our eyes, our mouths, all over our bodies. My dear god in heaven, she has become Cathy to my Heathcliff. What have I done! She is my darling Lily, but she doesn’t know it yet. She will though.

I go deeper, and she is so hoarse from screaming, she can’t catch her breath. “I am strangling, I am strangling!” She hopes I will believe her and stop. Not a chance. Now I am fully in at last and she feels it. She knows it with all her being. She howls. I pull out a little then thrust in again, harder. “You dirty bastard,” she cries. I will kill you for this. I will kill you. I will murder you. I will wait for my chance and kill you. I won’t kill myself, I will kill you. You will never touch me again. I will be on my guard all the time.!”

I move inside her and she has given way. Now I put my fingers into her cunt. One, then two, then three and I twist them around and my thumb fingers her clit. I am still holding her tight with my other hand and bloody arm. “Feel me inside you Lily,” I say. I curl my fingers up towards her clit on the inside and I push hard with my thumb. She gasps and begins to pant. I stop and move her back from the edge. “Oh!” she screams. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

I speed my thrusting inside her ass, pulling her tight against me each time. “I love you ,” I say. “I love you.” She shrieks and screams blasphemies at me.

I keep increasing the deepness and speed of my thrusting, the movement of my fingers, playing her and then finally, finally she gives up and meets my thrusts, pants like a dog, and howls like a cat in heat on the back fence, rising up on her knees and arching her back and throwing her head back. She is magnificent. Now she is fully animal, all her civilized nuances gone to dust. She has become my Cathy completely. She screams in passion and puts her hands on her breasts and squeezes her nipples. She reaches behind her head and putting her hands around my neck, she pulls me in as close as she can.  She twists and turns but not to get away, to increase her pleasure. She cares nothing for me now. She is completely out of control with Dionysian ecstasy. She is gone. Absolutely gone. I completely let go in her, pumping my semen deep into her rectum, and take her over the edge.

She convulses and screams incoherently, her voice a mish-mash of jumbled words and sounds and animal noises. She convulses with a grand mal seizure. I put my hand in her mouth so she won't bloody her tongue. Her entire body shakes and trembles and I have to hold her tight. Her bladder lets go and then her bowels as she urinates and we are lying in a primal soupy stinking mess of filthy feathers and gruel.

And then finally she is complete and sinks down on the bed, turning up to look at me. Her face is washed clean, newborn, her eyes open wide and luminous like an infant’s eyes. She keeps staring at me. For the second time since I have met her, she is speechless.

I say,“I thought I loved you before, but I could not have. What I feel for you now is so much more than that, that I don’t have words for it. All I can say is I love you, I love you, all day and all night long. Come”, I say, and I pick her up to carry her into another room to wash her. I wash her the way you wash a bloody newborn calf or foal, wrapped in membrane, all bloody and covered with shit.

While I am cleaning her I tell her, “I had to do that. When you were torturing me in New York I had fantasies of doing that to you, humiliating you, dominating you, revenging myself on you. But that was before I loved you. I only wanted to marry you, to have you, to keep you, to make you mine. That’s not love. And then you began your siege of my heart. I was furious."

“You upped the stakes at each turn. Every time I called your cards, you would up the stakes again. I couldn’t win. I could never win. And I began to understand that that was the reason you had never married. You always had an obstacle ready. Always. But what did you want? I had everything you wanted and needed. Why did you keep distracting me, pushing me away, putting beautiful young girls in my path to seduce me. Why? What did you want? I didn’t know. But tonight I found out. Sex finds us out."

“You wanted ecstasy. And none of the men around you could even come close to giving you that. None of them were passionately experienced and brutal enough. And you didn’t even know that that was what you wanted. You just knew that any particular person couldn’t give you what you didn’t know you wanted. There’s a becoming famous doctor in Vienna who treats patients in a different way. He also asks, “What do women want?” He doesn’t know. But I do, because I have always studied women, listened to them. They know things.”

“Only one writer has really written about this with clear insight. She was a very young girl living in a parsonage. She never married, had no experience with friends, just living at home with her father, sisters and brother, walking on the moor with her dogs. She knew in her imagination, and she wrote it. I don’t think you have read Wuthering Heights, but you will. I have it at home. It’s how I learned English.

“And you will know that I am your Heathcliff and you are my Cathy. And when you read this book, you will know me and yourself. I just had to do what I did to allow you to know. You see, few people want to experience ecstasy. Some want to get close and run. Others want nothing to do with it. Most who do go mad. It is dangerous, terribly dangerous, but I know I can protect you. I knew that you did and you didn’t, but that you would never be who you could be, if you kept yearning for what you didn’t know.

“Now you are completely different, changed. Like St. Teresa in her passion. Everything you experience now will be the same and it will be different. You will still be my beautiful perfect Lily, and yet you will not be the same.”

That’s what she is. She has just been born again, my Lily, my perfect Lily. And I clean her, wash her hair, dry her with towels and then I wash myself without letting go of her.  I pick her up and we go to her room and her virginal clean bed and I place her on the sheets, cover her and climb in beside her and hold her in my arms, carefully, tenderly, for she is truly, newly born.

“Sleep, my darling, sleep now. Go to sleep. I will watch over your dreams. You will be safe.” The ship gently rocks on the waves and she is warm and lulled, and she sinks down into slumber.

And I love her beyond belief.

Chapter 8:Wedding Night:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Mapplethorpe

We both stand in the stateroom which is huge. There is a sitting room and two bedrooms on each side. One for Lily and one for me.

Louise Bourgeois - Hamlet and Ophelia

I tell Lily, “I have taken the entire deck for this level. I do not want you to have to meet or consider anyone but yourself. And me, of course. I promise you I won’t touch you. I shall begin to lay siege to your heart. I have laid siege  to your mind, your thoughts, your feelings to obtain your hand. Now I will do the same to win your heart. I will never, never touch you unless you desire me to do so. You still have all the power. I will not touch you without your desire.

“And I can promise you I will use all my charm, all my seductive ways to entice you to want me. I warn you, I will be relentless in possessing your heart. I know I can take you now by the contract we have agreed to, our marriage. But I want more than that. I want all of you. So I can wait for as long as possible for that to come about.”

I move in close to her and I see she is trembling. I reach out to finally touch that lock of her hair which is always escaping from the coil on the nape of her neck. I gently finger it, drawing it over my lips, kissing it, and then tenderly tucking it back in.

“There, now you are back with your sisters. I know you will twist away again to taunt me, to tease me, and you are lovely and charming, but for now please stay quiet.” I laugh and tell her, “That lovely lock of your hair has been beckoning me all this time, telling me to come hither, to touch, to fondle but I did not dare. Now that you are mine, I dare.”

I lightly touch her lips with my finger and outline them so softly she might almost not feel my touch, but I know it burns her and tingles long after I have stopped. I touch her face near her hairline and slowly draw my finger down her cheek and jaw line to her neck, and then I stop, catching my breath. She stares into my eyes, that never leave my face while I look at her.

“Listen Lily, I will not touch you tonight. I may come in later to watch you dream, but do not be afraid. If you lock your door, I will not break it down, although I will want to do so. If you leave your door open I may come in to watch you sleep. I know you are fatigued, so please, just relax, go to bed and rest. You are safe and secure now. No one can hurt you. No one can cause you distress. No one will be on this deck but us. We will have it all  to ourselves. Please, sleep well my darling. I will see you in the morning.

She looks at me in astonishment. She cannot believe I mean what I say.

I return to my room and undress for bed. Keeping the light on I get Madame Bovary from my suitcase to continue reading Flaubert. Perhaps the master will help me with this woman. Someone must. Slowly I enter the world of the book, until there is a soft knock on my door.

“May I come in?” she asks. I look at her standing there in a soft flowing diaphanous cream colored gown, her hair loose and wild, and I think, Dear god, what is she doing to me now?

“Of course.” And I continue to look at her. She who looks like an angel standing there ready to be slaughtered. I lower the light to make her more comfortable.

“I do not wish to sleep alone on my wedding night. I do not wish it.”

“What.” What does she mean?. I will be tortured all night now by her nearness.

“Please,” she says as she approaches the bed.

“Come, sit down,” I say, and she does. I start to breathe again. I turn on my side to face her and draw the covers around me to hide my desire from her.

“Do you remember the first time we met? How you took my hand and kissed it?”

“I remember,” I say.

“How you kissed it with your mouth open, and the tip of your tongue caressed my skin, soft as a shadow, so that I almost thought I was imagining it.”

“I do.” Where is she going with this?

“My skin burned from your touch.”

I look at her and say, “Immediately after I touched you I looked into your eyes and your pupils dilated. Your eyes were still open, friendly, polite. Your mouth warm, still smiling, polite, your face showing nothing but just the proper amount of friendliness, politeness.”

“I remember what you said,” she says.

“Yes,” I say. “Mademoiselle Bart, you are beautiful and incomparable, graceful and perfect. There has been no exaggeration of your loveliness. You still are by the way.”

“And I said, ‘Your exceeding charm has been greatly underestimated.’ I meant it too. I still do.”

I lean over and touch her hand, the same one. Instead of bringing it to my lips, I bend my head down to where it lies beside her thigh, and I turn it over and begin to kiss her palm. My lips open and I press my mouth to her palm and kiss it. I graze it with my teeth, then lick it with my tongue and begin to suck it, kiss it passionately until I feel forced to stop. I curl her fingers closed tenderly.

“I am placing my heart inside as a gift for you to take care of. Please take care of it as I love you very much.” I look up into her eyes. They are brimming with tears that run down her face.

“That is the only thing I ever wanted from you,” she says. “You think you are going to lay siege to my heart, but I have been laying siege to your heart since first I saw you. It is all I want. I will never let it go. I will keep it now forever. It is mine now.” And she closes her hand tightly.

And she moves to kiss my lips and her body presses against mine. Her mouth opens to me and her tongue touches my lips and my tongue finds hers and explores her mouth carefully, slowly. But she won’t have it that way. She moves her mouth harder against mine until I give up and hold her tightly kissing her with all the abandon I feel. She whimpers and then moans and I cannot imagine stopping now. My hands seek her breasts, her nipples and then my mouth begins to move lower on her as my hands explore her stomach. Her breath gasps and I move still lower until I am at her center which is melting hot and very wet.

“Please,” she says, “please.”

Her hand is still in a fist, still holding my heart. I try to loosen her fingers but she won’t allow it. Her other hand moves to my hair and she seizes it, pulling my face towards her.

I put one finger in her and she writhes, twisting her body. She is slippery and wet with desire and so I remove all my covers, pull her close and begin to enter her.

“I am afraid I will hurt you,” I say.

“No. No. You will not. I am not a doll. You will not break me. I promise, I promise. Just. Please. Do not stop. Please don’t stop.”

I enter deeper until I reach her membrane and then I say, “I am afraid this will hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t stop.” And she thrusts her hips at me until I am undone and push suddenly and hard and I am through.

“Oh, god,” she says. “How wonderful. I can’t believe how you feel in me.” And she begins to pant, pasting herself to me then pulling away then rushing back into my arms so hard my breath hitches. I hold her so tight. Then I begin to move in her and she moans aloud and I think she will scream.

“Yes,” she says, “yes yes yes!” And now she is trembling uncontrollably, all control gone, lost forever, as she kisses me wildly, rubbing herself all over me, and crying and moaning, “Yes yes yes more more more.”

And then I realize what she wants. For me to take her like an animal. To be a beast and pound all the holding back of her life from her. To relieve her of all the pressure of conformity, of behaving perfectly, of denying herself all her feelings and spontaneity.  She begins to scream and she becomes something wild and untamed and I am delirious with surprise and joy, not knowing who this woman is.

She reaches the edge and I touch her clit, rubbing it in circles and she convulses and goes over the edge screaming my name over and over and I just let go of all of me and fill her and fill her until I am dripping out of her, and I take my semen and rub it all over her body and then begin to lick it off her. She looks at me with black eyes, breathing like a foundering animal and I kiss her tenderly, hold her face in my hands and say, “I love you. I love you. I love only you.” And then I wrap my arms around her, pull the covers up and hold her so tight even her dreams will have no room to reach her.

“You are mine,” I say. “No one else will ever touch you. I will kill anyone who tries. And I will never want anyone but you ever again.” 

Chapter 7:Georges Proposes:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Yellow Diamond

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“Lily, stop this! Stop right now! Please, please, stop! Now! I surrender! I surrender! You have all the power. All of it. You can make me the happiest man on earth or you can destroy me by saying no. I can’t go on with this charade any longer. You stalemate me at every turn. Marry me, marry me, please, please, please marry me. I will give you anything you want. I will make you happy. I love you beyond belief. Please, please say yes.”

She has put her hand to her throat. Her face is astonished and horrified. For the first time since I have met her she can say nothing, do nothing but stand there, struck dumb. She sits down in the chair. I fall to my knees in front of her and grasp her hand.

I notice how quiet it is, how all the murmuring has stopped. Lily’s eyes are darting left and right now. I see that everyone near us has stopped. They are not talking. They are just standing there looking at us. And now I know. Lily is ruined. I have made such a scene that she will be blamed for this scene for the rest of her life. She will be damned forever having let me get this far, this close to her to compromise her reputation.

I don’t care. This is good. Now she will have to say yes. She cannot go back to her life with this ghastly occurrence that will be talked about for two hundred years! Yes, she is ruined. I am delirious with gratitude for these miniscule minds that would blame her for what I have created. I want to kiss their feet.

Lily holds out her palm to quiet me but it is too late. “No, Lily,” I say, “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what all of them think. The only person whose thinking or feelings I care about are yours. Yours, only yours. You are the only important person to me in this huge crowd of people. You are the only person here for me.

Lily shudders. Her face is white and she is still speechless. For once, she is speechless. She cannot even move.

“Lily, Lily, please listen to me. Please. Listen to me. None of these people matter. They cannot hurt you. They cannot even take up the tiniest space in my mind. My mind only has room for you. Please, please give me your answer. Now. I don’t want you to have time to think about it. Not any more. Tell me now,” I command her.

I look up at her. In the corner of my eye I see Selden standing there with her wrap, wishing he could disappear, just drop her wrap on the floor and melt into the stones of the terrace. “Lily,” I say. “Now. Tell me, yes or not. Now.”

Her eyes look around and she sees nothing but incomprehension and absolute horror. She looks at me, full in the face, deep into my eyes and whispers, “Yes, yes, yes I will. And then louder, “Yes.”

I am radiant with joy. I grasp a small box from my pocket, pull out the ring, and I don’t even give her time to look at it as I put it on her finger. It is huge and ugly. An eight carat diamond, with ruby baguettes on each side from Tiffany’s.

“Yes.” I say. “I know it is ostentatious. Worse than ostentatious. It is obscene. Over the border into the land of the vulgar. It is exactly what I wanted.” Lily is looking at it on her hand with dismay on her face.

“When we get to Paris we both will go get another one. A beautiful one that you will pick out. We can throw this one in the Seine. Drown it. These people wouldn’t know what a beautiful ring looks like if they saw one. I know these people because I used to be just like them. You have changed me utterly. I do not even recognize myself anymore. The only thing they know is how much it is worth by looking at its size. I wanted them to see just how much I worship you, how much you mean to me, because to them, that’s what an engagement ring signifies. How much you are loved by how big the diamond is. I want to silence their tongues permanently.

I never want you to have to consider them again, all their foolish, simpering, stupid thoughts, perceptions and comments that you so carefully rephrase to sound intelligent, to make them feel important. They are not important. You are important. You are important and precious to me. You are all I care about in this pompous miserable copy of what they think is a Parisian court from Louis the XV or XVI at Versailles.”

“And it is no better where we are going. Even worse. But I will have you and that will make all the difference. Let us go now. We can take a carriage ride around the park, and I can calm down, and you can begin to breathe again. We will sail as soon as I can book passage. The Captain of the ship can marry us as soon as we are in international waters. Unless you want to stay to plan a big wedding here for these fools. I will do what you want.” Lily shakes her head. “Come. Take my arm and flash your diamond in their eyes.”

I pull her up, she takes my arm, and we walk from the terrace into the room. Bertha Dorset stands near the door and Lily walks up to her and says, “Dear Mrs. Dorset, we shall be leaving now. It has been an eventful and joyous evening for me that I will remember all my life. Thank you so much for inviting us. Goodnight and again thank you for the most unimaginable, wonderful evening of my life.” She gives her her hand, the one with the ring on it, and touches her goodbye.

And with immense grace she walks out the door, her head high on her slender neck, her eyes straight ahead into the dark, where I see a carriage and hail it.

She is my beautiful, my perfect Lily.

Chapter 6:Du Roy Ready to Propose:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Georges Du Roy

I’m watching her out there on the terrace with Selden. I look at the way they stand with each other facing the soon to be setting sun. I hope it sets on them very soon.

They do like each other, but he does not love her enough. He loves her the way Linton loved Cathy. However, she is not a Cathy, and I love her about the way he does. The way bookish Linton loved Cathy. Only I have assets, so my less than torrid romantic interest in her is acceptable and proper. Since he has nothing, he needs to have a passion for her, which he does not.  She is talking earnestly to him. I wonder if she is talking about me.

I see Rosedale starting out to greet her. She turns disinterestedly towards him, but he pretends not to notice. She nods to him about something and he comes back into the room.

I plan to go out on the terrace and propose to her. I intend to listen to her story ending choice first. If she ends it with a no, then I am prepared to soothe and reassure her; to convince her otherwise, which I am sure I can do. If she has chosen the yes ending, then the deal is closed.

It’s time, I say to myself, and I start out there. She sees me before I am too close to the terrace to surprise her. Her face is friendly as I walk up to her. “Mademoiselle Bart”, I say, picking up her hand to kiss it lightly but with my mouth open on her skin. She smells lovely. She smiles and greets me, “Baron Du Roy,” she nods. She turns to Selden and says, “I think it is getting chilly now that the sun is setting. May I please ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” he says.

“My fluffy pink feather wrap is back in there. Would you find it for me and bring it to me, please?” Selden nods and leaves the terrace leaving Lily and me alone. 

“I received your letter this morning and I have read your story, both parts. It’s charming. Thank you for asking my advice on which ending. You’re under no obligation to use my choice, however,” she smiles.

Lily is unusually  direct. This means she has given this some serious thought.

I bow to her, raising my one eyebrow and ask, “Which one did you liked the best?” This confuses her as she has expected my using the word choose.  

“Hmmmm. It was difficult to choose. Actually I started writing  my own.”

“C’est vrai?” I respond.

“Oui,” she answers me in French.

Returning to English she puzzles her face a little and says, "I also had two endings in mind. Perhaps a little more complex than yours, I think. But that seems to be the way women are."

“In one she is thinking of saying no. Her reason is the interesting part. She is really very attracted to him, but she has observed things about him that puzzle her. He is handsome, rich, titled and very charming. He has perfect manners, but they seem to her to have an artificial veneer. They are almost, but not quite natural, as if he has studied manners and their perfect practice. His behavior is well, not quite orthodox, a little spontaneous. This makes her uneasy as she will be traveling to China with him if she agrees to marry him, and she has no friends there, no one to go to if her situation becomes uncomfortable. Simply put, she fears him enough to be wary about falling into his power. This would happen to her if she says yes. She wants to but she is equally afraid, so I have left the ending ambiguous, ending before she finally decides and chooses. She is saying no to herself at this point but really wants to say yes.

“The second one she is thinking of saying yes. She is aware that she will live with him in a foreign country, which is unsettling, but she has arranged her reply to  acknowledge the honor he has paid her by asking her to be his wife. She replies by telling him this, saying that she understands he wishes a wife who will keep order in his house, have superb aesthetic taste in furnishing it, in arranging social affairs, ensuring his name and reputation will continue to be spotless. She also adds that she has come to this decision not only for the security it offers her, her ability to know what he wishes her to be for him, but primarily because she yearns for this little boy who has been without a mother all his life. In this way she intends to structure the relationship to be compatible for herself and for him. So she has stressed the contractual obligations, but has softened this with her concern for the child. She has also masked her attraction to him.

She has watched my expression the entire time she has been talking.

I am ready to kill her. I am also ready to throw her on the terrace stones and ravish her.

She has upped the stakes to Double or Quits. She has managed to say no while implying yes, and she has managed to say yes while implying that she will acquiesce to conjugal embraces without passion. I am completely out maneuvered. If she says no I will not be able to convince her, as the more attraction she feels, the more likely she will be to say no. Now I must propose without any advance knowing. How did she manage to do this. She has thrown another blasted obstacle into this strategy of mine. The situation is identical to my first meeting with Madeleine. My writing edited and made superior by this slip of a woman who has never written professionally, who is going to be a cool and careful wife – partner. All her affection and love and tenderness will go to my son. I do not want another Madeleine.

She will always do this. I will never get the best of her. She is just too intuitively intelligent. This is why she has never married. She has done this to every last one of them. What in God’s name does she want?

And at this moment while gazing at her, I realize I have fallen hopelessly in love with her, that I am completely in love with her, completely in her power, and I love her with the ferocity that Heathcliff loves Cathy.

What a beastly dilemma. This is not what I had planned at all. Now I must have her, and I must win her heart after we are married. Very well, I will do that.

I still want to kill her.

Chapter 5:Baron Du Roy Is Outfoxed Again:Georges Du Roy and Lily BartBel Ami and House of Mirth

Whistler - Head - Symphony In White

I see Bertha Dorset leave Lily and I approach her hoping to surprise her. She turns just as I am almost to her and smiles. Did she feel me coming with an eye in the back of her head? How does she always know when I am stalking her?

I take her hand to place my lips on her palm this time, and say, “At last the evening takes on new pleasure for me since you are here. I have been waiting to see you.”

“And I was just wondering where you were this evening, just a few moments ago. You must have read my mind,” and she laughs lightly and softly.

“I want to ask you if I may engage you for the first dance this evening?”

She has turned to catch someone’s eye and then she turns back to me saying, “I am so flattered that you asked me, but I am not dancing this evening. I turned my ankle a bit today and I would like to rest it, but I see Miss Lucinda Wetherall coming this way. A lovely young girl who made her debut last year. I am sure she will more than perfectly take my place in the dance for you.”

“Lucinda, please come over here and say hello to me. I have not seen you since your  beautiful debut this past year. Please allow me to present the Baron Du Roy de Cantel from Paris. He has noticed you and is desirous of a dance partner, is not that true Baron Du Roy? Baron Du Roy, may I present Miss Lucinda Wetherall.

Curses. How did she do that!  Now I cannot do otherwise than dance with this pretty doll without seeming totally ignorant and gauche. I bow over her hand and say, “Mademoiselle Wetherall, I am most pleased to meet you. May I please have the honor of this dance?” I pray she will say no.

“Why, I would be delighted Baron. It would be an honor for me also.”

I lead her to the dance floor after I tuck her hand in my arm, and I curse Lily to the bottom pits of hell for this. 

Chapter 4:Bertha Dorset's Dance:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Louise Bourgeois - To Unravel a Torment

Bertha Dorset was holding an informal supper and dance. She was forced to invite Lily Bart because she wanted the Duchess and Baron Du Roy to attend. She had been furious but was now over it and looking forward to her great success in getting these two people to come to her social event. She would take care of Lily in the near future when the Duchess and the Baron had returned to their travels.

The evening is festive, but not crowded, more an intimate gathering in honor of the two celebrities from Europe. There are a number of last year’s debutantes that have been invited to  be presented to the Baron. Bertha hopes to be a matchmaker for one of them, to assure her a place in the society of Paris. A grateful girl will welcome her to her new place in the future.

“Lily, I would like to ask you a favor,” she requests.

“Of course, Bertha, what can I do for you?” says Lily.

“Well I would like you to advance a few of the younger women to ensure that the Baron notices them.”

Lily laughs saying, “Of course. I already promised Amelia that I would do so.”

So she calls the Duchess Amelia, does she, thought Bertha.

“Then I can count on you?”

“Absolutely,” replies Lily. “Consider it done. I have my eye on Lucinda Wetherall. What do you think?”

“Oh, she would be perfect. She is lovely and such an accomplished pianist, I know she will charm him.”

“Good. We are in agreement then, but I shall introduce him to the others so it will not look too contrived.”

“Oh, Lily, you are so good at all this. We have missed you lately. Don’t stay away so much,” Bertha says as she turns away to greet a new arrival.

 I think if I can manage this, all will be well for me, thinks Lily.