Chapter 16: Lily In Paris: Georges DuRoy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Luna Moth

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I am waiting for LIly to finish dressing with Tav who can't contain his excitement waiting for her. At last we can hear her heels as she pauses at the top of the circular staircase. Then she walks down and both of us just gape at her as she descends the stairs.

"Maman, Maman!" Tav cries. "Tu es belle, tres tres belle!" and he runs to the bottom of the stairs holding his hands out to touch her.

"Tres belle," I whisper. Lily is dressed in a pale seafoam green silk chiffon gown with layers and layers of diagonal wisps crossing and floating like moth wings, fluttering as the air catches the filmy silks when she moves down the stairs, revealing a diagonally cut slim but flowing sheath holding her body. But even in this inmost layer, there are whispy cuts that reveal and conceal her silken flesh that only I know is there.

I want to forget about this social event, and carry her upstairs.

"Tu aime?" She says to me, a little uncertain at this, our first social engagement of importance.

I cannot say a word. I am just eating her with my eyes. Tav, however, is not so paralyzed, and he rushes towards her, grabbing her around the waist. She picks him up, holds him to her and kisses him full mouthed on his neck with her eyes closed, and I catch my breath. My god, how am I ever going to get through this evening without............. and, as she reads my face her eyes darken. I can imagine how wet she is now, how she smells of sex, and I am so ready for her. I blink my eyes and take her hand leaning over it to give her the first kiss of the evening. Every other pair of lips will lay over my first imprint. I open my mouth and the tip of my tongue caresses her, just as I did when I first met her.

"I am not sure I can last the entire evening now."  I frown at her for teasing me this way.

Lily laughs her throaty husky laugh, happy at my response.

"You are a pure sorcery Lily. I know what you are going to do to all the men there." I lean in to kiss her lightly, not wanting to disturb her hair, but my special lock has danced out of her arrangement, and I tuck it back in saying, "Now don't you provoke anyone else. No one else is to touch you. Understand?" and I touch my lips to her before I wind her back in.

I hold her fur for her as she shrugs her shoulders to accept my hands around her. And I lead her to the door where our carriage awaits. She turns to lean and kiss Tav one more time telling him, "Please go to sleep and when I come home I will wake you and kiss you goodnight."

Tav smiles and tells her, "I will be very good Mama." and he watches us with wide eyes as we go out the door.
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In the carriage Lily adjusts the layers of her gown turning to me and saying, "Tonight there will be so many other beautiful women. I will no longer be the most beautiful in the room as I was in New York." She bites her lower lip and holds it between her teeth. I gently remove it and I see there is a sheen on her lips I have never seen before.

"Lily you will always be the most beautiful woman in the room to me. Forever."

"That's not what I meant. I am afraid of all the beautiful Parisian women that will devour you with their eyes. I will watch you and not let you out of my sight." She licks her lips and touches me, feeling how hard I am for her. She plays with the buttons and says, "I have been wanting to try something that I heard the girls talking about at the dressmakers." And again she wets her lips.

"Lily, stop this right now. You must, you must or we will never get there. You will not be able to go inside after what I will do to you."

"Ahhhhh. I am looking forward to that. Do you suppose we can find a secluded place for awhile?"

"Oh my god, Lily. I am your husband. You are not supposed to be seducing me like this." I reach out my hand and slide it between one of the diagonal wisps of her dress, then through another and another, my eyes growing wider each second as I realize how this dress has been designed.  "Lily, did you design this dress?"

"There are no wives here tonight," she says.

"Oui. I have been thinking about a couturier shop. But would you approve? Or is that something a Baroness ought not to do?"

"Anything that would please you, you can do."

"Anything?" She asks as she moistens her lips.

We are approaching our destination but I continue with my fingers and finally I gain her entrance through the silken door of her gown. She is wearing nothing between the dress and my fingers and I moan. I can feel her wetness and I can smell her sex mixed with her perfume.

"Do you like my perfume," she says. "I collaborated with my perfumer and I added something to it that he said was perfect." She smiles and I know what she added.

"Lily you are going to drive every man mad in there."

"I only want to drive you mad."

"You have. And now I am going to have to watch your every move tonight. Do not leave my sight."

"Lord Rothschild will be here tonight. I want very much to have the paper extended to Berlin. It will depend on his approval."

"Lord Rothschild?" says Lily and her voice rises an octave.

"What! You know him! How? When? Where?"

"In New York. He was at the soiree  of Mrs. Brys when I directed all the tableaux vivants. I was introduced to him there. I doubt he will remember."

"What tableaux vivants? I never saw one with you."

"It was before we met. I was in the very last scene. It was the night Seldon told me he loved me and I kissed him lightly on the lips and told him never to mention it again."

"Confessions?"

"Not really. Nothing to say. Just fond memories of my friendship with Seldon."

"He was a fool to leave you free for me. I am so blessed he did."

And now we have arrived. I take her hand to help her alight from the carriage and she smiles shyly at me as we go into our first large social event together. I can smell sex in a light misty cloud surrounding her and I shiver, knowing what that smell will do to every man in the room. She will feel like the most beautiful woman in Paris tonight and I must watch her carefully as many of them will swirl around her, as moths do when they wish to mate. Perhaps I can find an empty room to lure her into.

Chapter 15:Hands Free Orgasm:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Cezanne

I am awakened by the rising sun through the window. I turn over wanting Lily as usual, but she is not there. This is strange. She must have gotten up, and she probably went to the big house, the one of my parents. When I gave them the first 50,000 they built the house they had always wanted. My father built much of it with his own hands, using help from his neighbors and friends, and stone building materials available locally. It is typical of the area. Not really large, but comfortable. Their old cottage where I grew up is now where Lily and I have been staying.

I dress and walk up to the house, entering the kitchen quietly. Lily and my mother are preparing food. Lily is plucking a chicken and the feathers are in a pile on the table. She turns and sees me and says, “I seem to have an affinity for feathers,” and then laughs softly and huskily, looking into my eyes.

“Lily,” and I gaze at her in this unexpected activity she is participating in.  Her eyes widen, grow dark and her body trembles and convulses slightly and I immediately see what is happening. I close the distance between us, take her hand and say, “Come. I want to show you something.”

Outside the door I push her up against the side of the house and hold her tight. My left hand is around her neck holding the side of her face into my neck and shoulder and my right hand cups her ass hard and I pull her to me. She feels my desire and shivers, shudders and convulses again. I hold her as tight as I can.

“Lily, Lily, what have I done to you. I am sorry, so sorry. But really I am not. To see you express this level of desire for me is overwhelming. I feel so complete. To hold you like this is more than I had ever dreamed I could feel.”

“When you came in and said my name I just dissolved. It was as if you were in me telling me ‘wait, wait, wait’ and I could not. I am still shuddering for you this minute. I cannot contain the feelings. I cannot hold them in and pretend I am not feeling them. They are too strong, too strong.”

I pick her up and carry her to the rustic bench under the trees and hold her, murmuring and kissing her throat, her face, her arms, and I do not stop. She clings to me, holding me as if she will never let me go. If she does, I won’t let her.

“Did you know about this? Have you ever…..?” She stops, becomes quiet and just looks into my eyes.

“Yes and no,” I say.

“How?” Tell me.

“It began when I was a child. Of course my friends and I were typical boys, we indulged in some bestial sex and soon got around to wondering about doing it with each other. We were too young for girls unless we could find an older girl who would show us how. So we wanted to be experienced and played at it with each other.

“Of course it was very intense in feeling, but we dared not let on and show that we felt that much. So we laughed, joked around, and pretended it was not a momentous thing. I, of course, would never have admitted what I felt, but then I also realized then that our fathers had done the same with their friends, before they found girls and grew out of it. It was like a secret that no one could admit even to themselves, but that bound the boys and men together the rest of their lives. The fact that they had enjoyed each other.

“To escape all this rustic poverty and uneventful life, I went into the military and I saw it there, but with young men it had changed in significance. Some men indulged but were very secretive about it. I could see which ones just by observing them with each other in off duty times. I held myself aloof from it.

“Then when I went to Algeria, saw the Middle East, became acquainted with a different culture, it was clear to me how adolescent boys and even men had relationships with each other that were sexual. None of them seemed troubled by it or even tried to hide it. Naturally I was curious as I had remembered how I felt when an adolescent.

“I became friends with a young Arab man and we smoked hashish together and then one time we drifted into sex with each other. It was pure pleasure, with no feelings of tying oneself to another, just an indulgent pleasure each could  give the other. It was a different experience. No guilt when contemplating it and no need to have to have that person, to keep that person. Just simple pleasure. When we separated, it was without any sorrow or loss, just two friends having to say goodbye when I left the area.

“The women there were either unavailable or prostitutes. There was nothing in between. You could not be friends with a woman, spend any time with her. If you were with her, then you must be having sex.

Of course the prostitutes were very experienced in ways western women are not. They have been cut genitally when they enter puberty to control their sexuality. To compensate, they develop their internal muscles in such a way as to enhance the man’s pleasure while intensifying their own. It is very subtle and very effective. Belly dancing and The Dance of the Seven Veils derive from this practice.

“When I returned to Paris I was intent on making something of myself and despairing that I would be able to do so. Such erotic things were far from my mind and what little contact I had with women was with typical prostitutes  in Paris.

“When I entered the social scene I found women were available to me. I had a few mistresses and Clo, a delightful creature from Bohemia, light and fun, and adventurous began to try to initiate me into anal eroticism. And it was then I saw how intense it was for the woman. Clo became wildly enthusiastic, but not too long after I found my wife cheating on me, cuckholding me in fact, and I set her up with her lover, caught her with witnesses, and divorced her. Then I ruined her lover with journalistic articles and he had to resign from his government post.

Right after that I kidnapped Suzanne, with her exuberant help, and married her. Clo was furious and we terminated our affair in a rather brutal way I am ashamed of. I don’t want secrets from you Lily, but neither do I want to tell you all the details. If you need to hear them I will. Do you?”

“No, no, I don’t. This is almost too much. It’s that I want to hear, but I don’t want to listen to you say it.

"How is it that you are a Baron? Your parents are simple, hard working, not nobility?"

"Madeleine wanted a title. She planned how we were going to do it before we married, so she could have my title, our title, on the wedding announcements. My title is completely fabricated. It is a pretend title, but without it the Duchess of Beltshire would never have confided in me about you, and she would never have assisted me as she did. Any you, my darling, would not have been nearly so impressed."

"It did not matter to me, but it mattered greatly to my so called friends in New York. they stamped on each other's toes to have outlandish events, so as to impress you with their invitations."

"And the only thing that impressed me was you."

"Tell me more."

“On my wedding day Clo was in the reception line greeting me and we both knew we would start up again. We did. Suzanne was pregnant almost immediately and her mother, Madame Walter, influenced her to be chaste while she was carrying a child. She acquiesced to her mother’s advice concerning pregnancy.”

“Were you ever……. I mean…..with Virginie?”

“Virginie! You call her Virginie!”

“Yes. She asked me to do so, when we are alone with each other. She said it was more fitting in front of Tav and when we discussed him. Do you mind?”

“No. Of course not. I am astonished. She has not spoken to me once since she found out I was marrying her daughter. I cannot believe she is any more forgiving of you for taking her place.”

“I don’t think she thinks of it like that. But you didn’t answer my question. But maybe I should not have asked it.”

“Lily, you can ask me anything you want to know. Yes. Yes, Madame Walter and I had an affair. She was obsessed with me. I could not find a way out of it. Her obsession was tiring, then almost frightening, she was so hysterical. I had no idea how I would ever break with her, and her husband was my employer. But when I married Suzanne it all became settled very abruptly.”

“Yes. I see that it would,” Lily said.

“Do you hate me for this?”

“I can’t even imagine how or what hating you would be. How could I? I don’t think it would be possible. If you found someone else, then I still could not. How could I deny you what you wanted. You have given me everything because you have given me yourself.

Besides,” and Lily smiles radiantly, “I still have your heart in a safe and secret place, so how could you possibly find it to give to another?” and she laughs lightly. “It is no longer in my hand where you might be able to pry it from me.”

“It is yours forever. My heart will never belong to anyone else.” And then I think of Tav and our coming child and I have to revise my thoughts.

“What are you thinking?”

“That you will have to make some of it available for our children. Will you?”

“Oh,” she says, “oh, yes, I will, I will,” and she holds me even tighter. "Please, please, promise me...."

"What. Promise you what?"

"Please," Lily says.

"Anything. Just tell me. Anything."

"I want to give birth to our baby here, here in the country, where your parents are. Here. I want you to deliver our baby. You."

"NO," I scream, "no, you cannot here. This is not the safest place for you. I cannot do that. I am not a doctor. ! No, a thousand no's!"

"You promised. Anything."

"Yes, but I had no idea!"

"You didn't add any conditions."

Oh my god, she has done it again, completely boxed me between Scylla and Charybdis. She always does this. I can never win with her. I know she will have her way and I cannot bear it. Now I must be careful.

"Look Lily," I say, "it would be too dangerous. I have no experience. I cannot risk you. I could not survive it if anything happened to you. Please, don't ask this of me. I cannot. You need to be in Paris. With trained doctors and nurses, just in case."

"But they won't let you be there for me. You will have to wait outside and I can't bear that."

"But they are experts. You will be taken care of by the best."

"Suzanne died, didn't she? Didn't she have the best?"

Oh god, she has me. I cannot refute her logic. I know now she will have her way.

"I will find expert midwives here. They will deliver you."

"You must be with me. Only you can help me. But you may have them there just to feel more comfortable yourself. But you have to be right by my side, right with me the whole time. Promise me you won't leave me for a minute. Promise! Promise me now while I have you!"

"Yes. You have my word. I could not have it otherwise."

"And you have delivered foals and lambs and calves, so you are not inexperienced."

"My god, Lily,They are animals, they are different from our child."

"No, no they are not. Really they are not."

"I promise. I will not leave your side."

As if anything could tear me away.

Chapter 13:Fishing:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Cezanne

Lily and I are walking through the meadow to the spring fed pond to catch some fish. The little ones that we can deep fry in olive oil and eat heads, bones and all. Tiny ones that are so delicious. She has never tasted them like this, fresh from the water. The sun is up and it is warm on our faces. I feel as I did when a child here. We are carrying a hamper with a picnic lunch in it, a blanket and I have a fishnet. It promises to be a lovely day. Lily is lighthearted as we listen to the insects in the field grasses and I hold her hand, happy to be with her like this, with no one else around to share her with.

We pass through the trees surrounding the water and it is cool and secluded here as we watch the movement of small creatures in the water. I spread the net over the surface and as the net becomes heavy with water, it sinks lower and lower until it is lying on the bottom. We sit on the bank and watch as little silvery fish swim up to it and nibble.

After awhile they are accustomed to it and swim over it looking for insects to catch. In an hour or so there is a school of fish on the surface and I begin  to close my trap by pulling up the corners slowly so as not to frighten them away. As the edges fold up and I slowly lift the net higher, the fish swim around still unsuspecting.

“Oh, look,” says Lily. “Now they know they are caught!” They have begun swimming anxiously. Just barely suspecting, then knowing that they have been caught, when they cannot swim off the edges.

I pull it up and close it getting ready to heave it onto the grass. Still concentrating on the net I say, “When did you know you were caught, Lily?” And I turn and look at her.

Her eyes widen and darken as she looks at me. “Are you asking if I am right now, or are you asking about the first time?”

Surprised, I laughingly say, “Both.” I turn back to the silvery fishes.

“When did you know you were caught?” She asks.

Still securing the fishes I say, “When you gave me your two endings to my story. You had accomplished the secret of journalism in a flash, which is to assert one thing while suggesting another, or to negate one thing but imply its opposite. In other words, never to be direct. I was dumbfounded, furious, and madly in love with you from that moment. I wanted to kill you. I had not intended to be caught by you.”

I heave the net onto the grass and turn back to her. I am dumbfounded all over again. She has taken off her skirt and has nothing on under it, and is unbuttoning the last button on her blouse, shifting it off her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare, standing there looking at me with her Wellington boots on. I groan aloud and close the distance between us, grabbing her and falling on the ground with her. She reaches for my pants and I slip them off, enter her quickly and feel her come as I enter, and then I completely let go in her like a seventeen year old boy with a rural girl and no experience.

“My god, Lily! What have I done to you? What have you done to me? I never intended this. How did this happen?” I kiss and lick her face all over, her mouth, her eyes, her neck and slide down to her breasts where I suck her nipples.

“I take an American Cinderella dressed for the ball in exquisite clothes and I bring her to the country, put her in peasant clothes and violate her in the fields like a wench. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Lily laughs her new throaty laugh. “I love it,” she says. “I never had a childhood like this. I shall make up for it. You can be my playmate. I think Cathy and Heathcliff spent lots of time playing like this, don’t you?”

I’m not paying attention. “Hmmmmm. I am sure of it now.” I nuzzle her neck, biting it and waiting to get hard again so I can ravish her more slowly in the warm sun under the blue sky. I lift my face and hold her face between my hands and look deeply into her eyes.

“So tell me, when did you know you were caught the first time?”

“When you said,  'Tell me now Lily. Yes or not. Now. Tell me now.' And I looked at the frozen faces and I knew I was ruined again. Somehow I would always do something, or be in a situation where I would be ruined. It would be inevitable. It was just like the time in Italy with Prince Verigliano, all the faces that became blank to me after he and his step-son began to fight over me. I knew none of it was my fault, but I would be blamed for it. I had no more resistance to you. I would have fallen in your arms right then, but I was still so unable to  behave any other way than what was expected. And you, you were so spontaneous, so uninhibited, so fully yourself, not under anyone else’s control, that I just knew I could never want anyone else.”

“You are making me free now. I love it. I love you. Have I told you that yet today? I love you,” she murmurs darkly.

“You haven’t told me enough today that you love me. I want more.”

I bring her back into my arms before I get up and spread the blanket under us. Then I hold her tightly and begin to fondle her again. I put my lips all over her, kissing and tonguing her, tasting her until I think I can’t get enough. I move my fingers around her ass and I feel her tense, so I still my fingers.

“I’ve been wanting you to touch me that way for so long now. I thought you never would again. I was getting ready to plead, to beg you to do that. Please, please, don’t stop.”

And my god, I am so ready for her. I wet myself with my semen and her juices, smear myself with them, wet my fingers and begin to enter her. She moans with pleasure and I place my cock at her entrance and begin to push. She is still so tight, but so ready now.

“Be still Lily. It will be very different this time, but just as wonderful. But very very slow, so you will feel so intensely, you will want to crawl out of your skin. You will feel so much more this time. I will take all afternoon torturing you.”

“Do you promise?” she moans and whimpers. And now she is in for it. 

Chapter 12:Train Ride To Rouen:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Monet - The Gare Saint Lazare

Diderot: “Bring your lips to mine / so that out of my mouth / my soul may pass into yours” (Chanson dans le goût de la romance). From Sasha and the Silverfish  
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Lily and I are on the train now and it is beginning to move. The compartment takes half a car and is luxurious, quite different from the last time I took this journey. I put those thoughts from my mind and look at Lily.

Lily removes her coat and she is wearing a new dress, simple, made of a very fine, soft cotton with tiny flowers in an overall pattern. I admire her and say, “You look lovely in that dress. I haven’t seen it before on you.”

“No, I just had my final fitting a few days ago and I wanted to have it for the country. Your Paris dressmakers are everything they are reputed to be. Really mine is a wonder. She understands just the simplicity and cut I want. Maybe I will open a couture house with her.” And she laughs softly in that new throaty, slightly hoarse laugh of hers.

My favorite tendril of hair has come loose again and is teasing me. I reach out to touch her and fondle her through my fingers. Listen, you must go back with the others again. I will try to tuck you in and fasten you securely so you will stay. I tuck her back behind Lily's ear and wind her in the coil at Lily's neck. Then I pat her and and smooth her.

Lily leans forward taking a cigarette from her case. I light it for her. She draws the smoke in lovingly and slowly before she exhales. This is the first time I have been with her when she is smoking in public although our own car is not really public.

It is mid afternoon and as we slide out of Paris the countryside begins to open up and I watch Lily watching the beauty of the unfolding landscape. She is raptly looking and she sighs. Then she looks at me, smiling slowly.

After awhile she says, “Read some more of Wuthering Heights to me, please, would you?  Or would you like me to read to you?”

We have been reading it together. Mostly I read to her so as to practice my pronunciation, but I prefer to listen to her.  So I get the book out and begin and soon we are lost in the story of Heathcliff and Cathy. Cathy is dangerously ill in childbirth, and I know she will die, but Lily as yet does not know the end. I reach the part about the feathers and I look at her feeling desire for her, as I remember our wedding night, so very different from the one I spent with Madeleine on this same train journey.

Tossing about, she increased her feverish bewilderment to madness, and tore the pillow with her teeth; then raising herself  up all burning, desired that I would open the window. We were in the middle of winter, the wind blew strong from the north-east, and I objected. Both the expressions flitting over her face, and the changes of her moods, began to alarm me terribly; and brought to my recollection her former illness, and the doctor's injunction that she should not be crossed.  A minute previously she was violent; now, supported on one arm, and not noticing my refusal to obey her, she seemed to find childish diversion in pulling the feathers from the rents she had just made, and ranging them on the sheet according to their different species: her mind had strayed to other associations.

That’s a turkey’s, she murmured to herself; and this is a wild duck’s; and this is a pigeon’s.  Ah, they put pigeons’ feathers in the pillows _ no wonder I couldn’t die! Let me take care to throw it on the floor when I lie down.  And here is a moor-cock’s; and this _ I should know it among a thousand _ it’s a lapwing’s. Bonny bird; wheeling over our heads  in the middle of the moor. It wanted to get to its nest,  for the clouds had touched the swells, and it felt rain coming. This feather was picked up from the heath, the bird was not shot; we saw its nest in the winter, full of little skeletons.  Heathcliff set a trap over it, and the old ones dare not come. I made him promise he’d never shoot a lapwing after that, and he didn’t. Yes, here are more! Did he shoot my lapwings, Nelly? Are they red, any of them? Let me look.

“Give over with that baby-work!” I interrupted, dragging the pillow away, and turning the holes towards the mattress, for she was removing the contents by handfuls. “Lie down and shut your eyes; you’re wandering. There’s a mess! The down is flying about like snow.”

Lily interrupts. “Do you know Shakespeare?” she asks.

“No, no I don’t. Not yet.”

I think I remember Ophelia’s speech. We had to memorize it in classes. Ophelia has fallen in love with Prince Hamlet and he is playing with her affections. He begins to seduce her, and she is already in love with him.  But her father wants her to play hard to get, to not be too available lest the Prince take advantage of her.  Then he begins to be hostile to her, saying she should get herself to a nunnery and behaves very cold and ambiguous to her, as madness creeps up on him, or he pretends to be mad.

“What you were doing to me in New York.”

“Yes, a little, but he is very cruel.”

“You were very cruel.” She arches her eyebrow at me and smiles enigmatically, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with me.

“She begins to become unhinged, slightly mad, then more and more so.”

“Ah yes, I know how that feels.” Again she looks at me almost puzzled, then with oncoming desire, as her eyes darken in the fading light from the window.

So when Ophelia becomes completely mad, she enters with a bouquet of flowers and speaks. I am sure Emily Bronte knew this speech of Ophelia’s in Hamlet and is mirroring it with Cathy’s madness. I wonder how you will see it.

And Lily begins to recite it to me.

Oph. They bore him barefac’d on the bier;

          Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny:

          And in his grave rain’d many a tear;_

Fare you well my dove!

“You must sing, Down a- down, an you call I a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master’s daughter.”

“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.”  And Lily pretends to pick single flowers from an imaginary bouquet.

Oph. There’s fennel for you, and columbines: _ there’s rue for you; and here’s some for me: we may call it, herb of grace o’Sundays: _you’may wear your rue with a difference _ There’s a daisy: I would give you some violets; but they withered all when my father died. _ They say, he made a good end, _

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,

And will he not come again?

And will he not come again?

No, no, he is dead;

Go to thy death-bed,

He never will come again.

And oh my god, I am undone. “Lily.” I say hoarsely, “Lily.” We are drowning in each other’s eyes, and she crosses over to me and sits in my lap, then twists around so she is straddling me. I am astonished that she would do such a thing and I grab her waist to hold her tight against me so she won’t change her mind as to its improperness.

My hands reach under her skirts and oh my god she is not wearing any bloomers, just sheer nakedness under her clothes. I catch my breath and look into her eyes, as she smiles at me.

“I thought maybe….maybe…. I wouldn’t want to be encumbered…..in case….in case….”, and then she moans as I feel her hotness and wetness and I am out of control, kissing her and feeling her and wanting her. Caution disappears out the window and flies away.

I am breathing heavily as I undo my pants, sliding them down as I lift her up and place her on me in a perfect position for entering her. I feel I cannot wait, cannot stop, cannot prolong this, so I try to breathe slower, to time my breathing with hers. She has her mouth on my neck, saying, “Yes, yes, please, now, please, I need you so much now, right now….” And she begins to whimper.

I enter her and slide slowly in, deeper and deeper until I am buried inside her. The sound and movement of the wheels of the train increase momentum and drive me mad. I lift her up a little then push down on her shoulders hard. She screams softly against my neck then looks into my eyes. We are both breathing faster and faster now.

She moves forward, then back, then forward again, then begins to twist her body throwing her head back, closing her eyes. She returns to me looking me deeply in the eyes before she stops breathing, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I can’t wait, I…I…I…I can’t , I can’t, I can’t “ and she begins to pulse, then throb and she is so close I can’t stand it. I thrust up into her, then I lift her and slam her down on me hard, and I pour into her shaking and moaning as I feel her letting go and shuddering, shivering , trembling all over. I keep her right where she is as we return to the world together. Quietly breathing I kiss her softly, longingly, my mouth open against hers, breathing into her mouth, feeling my soul passing into her.

“Ma belle parfaite Lily,” I say.

Chapter 11:Lily and Gustav:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart:Bel Ami and House of Mirth:

Cy Twombly - Coronation

Lily has just walked into the room. She comes over to me and touches my hair, then looks as if she is beginning to tell me something when Gustav runs into the room.

“Maman Maman! Ma belle amie! Regarde!”He holds up his closed hand.

He rushes at Lily throwing himself at her and she picks him up laughing at him. “Oh, mon fils, mon bel ami,” she says.

I gasp at the choice of their words. Then she leans into him and places her lips on his neck, closing her eyes and kissing him softly. I feel a lurch in my stomach and god in heaven, I am jealous of my own son!

Lily kisses his closed hand and then smiles, saying, “What a lovely story you wrote today. Your English is parfait and your French also of course. I wish mine were as good as yours.”

“Bientot ma belle amie, soon,” he says.

“All this mixing of French and English in the same sentence, I don’t know about that. I hope it doesn’t confuse the two of you,” I say.

They turn to me with mischievous eyes, laughing at me. I scowl at them.

“Oh, oh,"  Lily says, “we had better behave ourselves. Run now and eat your lunch that your grandmother has fixed for you.”

She comes over to me again and says, “Quel est le probleme?

“I am jealous of my own son,” I say. “When I saw you kissing him, your lips open on his neck, your eyes closed, a knife went through me.”

Lily laughs and laughs a low throaty laugh that I have not heard before. A new laugh. She raises one eyebrow at me.

“If you raise your eyebrow like that you will get a crease in your forehead that won’t rub out.”

She laughs again. “Ah, but it doesn’t matter now. I have already captured my husband. That advice is only for those still hunting.”

“I am thinking myself about jealousy. I expect I am going to experience it soon.”

I look at her in amazement. “Surely you don’t think…….” And she shushes me with her finger to my lips.  Well, Tav has been asking for a little sister, no, begging for a little sister. And one has been coming to me night after night in my dreams, and I have just found out that she will come to us. I dreamed her into existence.” And she smiles joyously at me.

“Lily, no no no! You can’t be serious. Please tell me it’s all a mistake, that you didn’t say that, that it isn’t true!” I am frantic with fear. She cannot be pregnant. She cannot, she cannot. “Lily, I cannot risk you. I wouldn’t survive it!”

Lily continues to smile happily, saying, “Women throughout time have had babies. Would you deny me, deny us? I am overjoyed. I wished this child into being for us. Please be happy with me, please. Please don’t spoil this moment for me, for us.”

“Lily, I am terrified.” I pull her into my lap and hold her so tight. “I cannot be without you. I cannot.”

I am not going to die, Georges. Yes, I know Suzanne did, but I am not Suzanne. I cannot leave you. I cannot. I will not. And that’s that. I have never known what it is to be so happy. You have changed my life completely. When I think of your scene and my utter horror at all those blank faces listening to your outburst, I can only laugh now in joy. What if you had not lost your temper, lost your control? Where would we or I be now? And your doing this has permitted me to lose all my control, although not in front of a crowd of people.” And she looks darkly at me.

“Please be happy with me. If you are worried then so will I be. That will not be good. You must forget about fear. I have lived with it far too long. I know what it does. It stops you from living and you forget that it has stopped you and you begin to survive, forgetting that you have forgotten. To live fully is to risk.

"I tremble when I think of how I love you, how I love our son, how very dangerous it is to love that much, and I choke up and feel I cannot move, that I cannot let either one of you out of my sight. But I must not allow my feelings to dampen my happiness, our happiness depends on my not allowing that. Now my happiness, our happiness, Tav’s happiness, our daughter’s happiness depend on your not allowing that fear to enter your heart.

Anyway it can’t enter your heart because I won’t let it. I am holding it, remember,” and she holds up her closed hand so I can see it, so I can know that I am safe.

I pull her to me, and my favorite little lock of her hair is loose again, so I scold her and tell her to stay with her sisters in the coil of hair, that I am busy now and cannot keep folding her back in. I kiss her hair, her face, her neck and her lips.

“Shall we go upstairs to our apartment?” I ask. “Now I won’t have to think about tricking you so as to be careful anymore. No use now.” And I smile at her looking deep into her eyes. 

I see them darken and I will not frighten her with my fear.

Tu es parfaite pour moi et pour Tav.
______________________________________________________________________

“I have a favor to ask,” says Lily.

“What,” I say cautiously, knowing I may get trapped again. “Tell me what you want. I will try to give it to you.”

“Ah, you are being more careful about your promises, now, so I will be more careful. You see I want to visit your parents, that part of France where you grew up. Do you suppose I could meet them? They are going to have a new grandchild, and I think it might be a happy occasion for them to know.”

“You are asking very diplomatically, aren’t you, Lily? Suzanne never met them. They have never met Tav, as you have gotten me calling him now. He was named Gustav after Flaubert, you know. But you are right, it is a heavy name for such a little boy.” I am trying to distract her now.

“Hmmmm. You are being  very careful, my husband. Shall I ask again?”

“I don’t want to take you there. I gave in to Madeleine and took her there right after we were married. I told her it wasn’t a good idea, but she insisted, just like you are doing now, only much more firmly. And when we were there she was appalled at the rustic primitiveness of the place, of my parents, of the surrounding forest that frightened her, and wanted to return immediately. My mother hated her. My mother is a simple, very hard working woman, who is foreign to anything you have known. She will be polite to you, but she will not be welcoming.”

“Oh, now you are comparing me to Madeleine. Will I ever get these ex-wives out of your mind! I am not Madeleine. I want to meet her. I want to know her. She is your mother. She raised you, and I am grateful for the way she did.”

“No, who I am now was a result of the women I have known in Paris. They took all the rough edges off me and then began to polish me. I was happy to put myself in their hands, to transfer my will over to them. They have made me who I am. Who I was when I first knew them would never have interested you at all.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know. And I do not want to explain or convince you. You cannot imagine how crass I was and I do not want to relive myself in that guise even in words.”

“How did we get in this conversation? I just asked a simple question, a simple request. Please. Please let us go visit. Please keep an open mind about me.”

“Ah, Lily, how can I say no when you ask like that. You always get your way with me. Yes, yes, we will go. We can take the train to Rouen. I will book a large private compartment for us, maybe even a full car as it will be an overnight journey. But if you are the least bit uncomfortable, then we will leave and come home. I will not have you feel  anxious, especially not now. And my lock of hair has escaped again and wishes me to touch her." I reach out to touch Lily’s face, and tuck my curl into its coil again. “Do not worry little one, tonight you can be free again. Just wait. Be patient. I love you.” And I kiss her hair.

 

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 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.

Chapter 3 - Georges Du Roy Meets Lily Bart: Du Roy and Lily Bart: Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Lily - Georgia O'Keeffe

The informal gathering at Mrs. Trenor’s that evening was a familiar social gathering for Lily. She arrived with Amelia and Lady Skiddaw and they entered together.

“Why Lily,” said Mrs. Trenor. “Where have you been keeping yourself since you returned from Monaco? We have missed you, and she kissed each of her cheeks in welcome.”

“My Aunt, Mrs. Peniston, has not been well, and I have been attending to her, that’s all. But here I am and so happy to see you.”

Soon people were conversing, mixing with each other, partaking of tidbits of food and listening to the music and Lily began to feel that maybe Amelia was right, that being here was all that was needed to dispel the ugly stories spread by Bertha Dorset.

Wearing a bias cut pale rose silk gown, with a deep scalloped neckline, Lily looked more wonderful than anyone else in the room, as usual. Her head high on her slender neck, her eyes bright with contentment at being there, she was ready to forgive all for their  shunning of her.

I walk in the door and look around for the Duchess hoping to see Lily Bart with her. And then I see Lily, as she is the only one in the room. My god, she is beautiful, tall, slender, her hair piled high, lovely white face, arms, shoulders. Yes, Amelia was exactly right. I would not hesitate to ask her right this minute, book passage and take her away. Perfect.

The Duchess sees me and glances at Lily. I nod to let her know I have already seen and to indicate that she was correct. I am grateful to her for enticing me here. She comes to my side, introduces me to her hostess, then says, “There is someone I want you to meet.” We both know who that is.

She arrives at Lily’s side after greeting a number of people on the way, and she touches Lily’s arm and says, “Lily, I have been wanting you to meet a friend of mine from Paris, the Baron Du Roy of Cantel”

I bow to Lily, take her hand, and kiss her skin with open lips. The barest touch of the tip of my tongue licks her. I immediately look into her eyes and I see that her pupils have dilated. Excellent, I think, excellent.

Her face gives nothing away, her eyes cool, polite, friendly, warm, her mouth and face the same, and I say to her,

“Mademoiselle Bart, you are beautiful and incomparable, graceful and perfect. There has been no exaggeration of your loveliness.”

She replies, “Your exceeding charm has been greatly underestimated.”

She has mirrored me. And precisely. I am surprised.  Her voice is beautifully modulated.  She is perceptive, intelligent, well the adjectives would flow but are not necessary.

Already I am enchanted with her. 

Chapter 2: The Duchess Conspires-Lily Bart and Georges Du Roy - Bel Ami and House of Mirth

Louise Bourgeois - Red Flowers

“Lily, I am so glad you could come. Lady Skiddaw and I would like to spend as much time with you as possible while we are here. Are you going to be free enough for that?”

“Since I got back from Monte Carlo I have all the free time in the world, Duchess. Or haven’t you heard the news?”

“Amelia, please. My title is only for those fogies to whom it is so important. Not for my friends. Yes, I did hear, but it will blow over and things will get back to normal for you. Actually I hope they don’t but that is for our next topic of conversation.”

“I think not. Bertha Dorset seems intent on ruining me. She imagines things until she believes they are true.”

“Well, no one believes her, certainly?”

“No, but she has all the money and power over the social network here, and I have none. They can’t afford to displease her.”

“When I am here, if they want me, they will have to have you. By the time my visit is over, you will be integrated back in their set, and she will have to plan something else.  I see you are laughing Lily.Does that mean you agree with me?”

“Not at all, but we will see, won’t we? Where shall we go tonight? I had some ideas, but what are yours?”

Mrs. Trenor invited Lady Skiddaw and myself to a small intimate party she is having. I told her we were already engaged with you and that I would check with you to see if you could reschedule. She immediately asked me to bring you, by all means. See how it works! Voila! I also mentioned Baron Du Roy is here and wishes to meet some English women. But he is here to meet you and marry you, Lily.”

“Oh, Amelia,” Lily laughs. “I’ve never met him. How could he want that. He knows nothing about me. What happened to all the beauties in Paris? Did they all disappear?” And Lily laughs softly again.

“My dear, he does not need to know anything about you. He knows me, and that is all that is needed. I told him about you and he decided to come to New York with me to meet you.  Don’t look so astonished. He is looking for a wife. His young wife died in childbirth almost three years ago, and he has a young child, a boy, who has never had a mother. He, for some reason I don’t know, prefers to find an English speaking woman for himself and his son.”

“Really, Amelia, you can’t mean this.”

“But I do. He is here now, staying at my hotel. He is titled, very, very rich, very handsome, is the editor of the largest most influential newspaper in all of Paris, La Vie Francaise, an accomplished political journalist, author of some short stories, is working on a novel, and his son is heir to the Walter fortune – Walter owns the newspaper and he was married to his daughter “

“He certainly sounds very busy. Where can he find the time to find a wife and marry?’ laughs Lily.

“You may laugh, Lily, but there are many people who take me far more seriously than you do.” Amelia puts on a pouting face and Lily laughs again.

“I will certainly meet your Baron and help him find a more suitable choice than I.”

“Oh, Lily, you foolish girl. He is perfect for you. Why wouldn’t you want to marry him?”

“Well, that’s hard to say since I’ve never laid eyes on him.”

“You will tonight. I have told him he must come to meet you there. So that’s that. I want you to dress lovely, but then you always do anyway, so just prepare yourself to greet him without any prior judgments, will you please?”

“I will,” says Lily, “I will.”

Chapter 1: Du Roy Wants a Wife:Georges Du Roy and Lily Bart - Bel Ami and House of MIrth

Robert Pattinson As Georges DuRoy

Suzanne has been gone almost three years now. My son is growing up and Madame Walter is not the best influence for him. I live in the Walter mansion and she still has not said a word to me unless it is about my son. I have employed nursemaids but they do not satisfy my aspirations for my son, so I have continued looking, until I finally understood that no one is going to be perfect for him. This presents me with a problem, because I do not wish to marry again. I am content with Clo and others with no one making demands on me.

Suzanne was so lovely and fun. We had barely gotten to really know each other when she became pregnant. Her mother insisted on her being much more confined than I wished and I was furious, as I knew the real reason. She had her convinced that sex would be harmful and Suzanne was fearful with me after that. We were just learning each other. I still saw Clo, of course, but I did not have the same desire for her as I had had before my marriage to Suzanne. It was a trying time for Suzanne and me, but I thought that after the child was born, things would improve.

Only she died in childbirth. I was left with an infant and, not exactly a broken heart, but a sense of real loss for what might have been. After two years I began to think about what I might do to find a mother for my son and a wife for myself. Young women were no longer acceptable to me as I could not see them as mothers. In bed I knew they would be ardent, for a while anyway, and that was agreeable to me. What I really wanted was someone who could preside over my life as I lived it with calm and tact, who would be good for my son and compatible with me. But she had to be beautiful. And she had to have integrity. I did not wish another highly polished cocotte like Madeleine. I no longer needed to marry wealth as I now had the millions from Suzanne’s death and my son was the legal heir to the Walter fortune. Strange how things twist and turn according to fate.

With my melancholy I read more to console myself and I began to see different possibilities beyond my journalistic career. My confidence in my writing had grown as my understanding grew. I began to write short stories, to publish them and I was trying to work on a novel with not much luck. I needed the atmosphere my own wife could provide.  I was never the kind of man who can be content living alone indefinitely.

I decided I didn’t want a French woman. My tastes had changed.  I wanted an English woman or an American one. I had a working knowledge of English, but after reading Madame Bovary I read some of the English women writers and then I read Wuthering Heights and I saw myself in Heathcliff. This had never happened to me before. I had not been a student at all when young. I had to make my way in the world as best I could. I knew Heathcliff so deeply and also the part of him that was wounded. But I had never loved like Heathcliff, and I was not looking for that, but as a character he intrigued me and I gained in self-knowledge knowing that we were so close. I had escaped his fate as Suzanne was more courageous than Cathy, but then she was so young and the young are often like that.

I think I wanted an English speaking woman because I was so infatuated with Emily Bronte. I decided that if I married an English speaking woman that the language would be a barrier between us. So I worked on fluency with Emily Bronte. She is a genius with language and her imagination is unrivaled. Was it wise of me to absorb her so completely? I didn’t know, but no other writer had captured me like this girl I would have loved to know.

But an American woman was more of a decided challenge to me. We French have such a love affair with the New World. And then at an event I met the Duchess of Beltshire and her companion Lady Skiddaw. As she was my dinner partner, she began to tell me of a most remarkable woman she had been recently reacquainted with at Monte Carlo.

“You know Georges, I may call you that may I not, well, I will anyway whether or no, it is time you remarried. I have heard your young wife died almost three years ago now and your young son must need a mother’s care and supervision. I have recently come back from the Riviera and I again met a most remarkable young woman there. I tried to get her to accompany myself and Lady Skiddaw back to the continent, but she felt it was imperative that she return to America. Why, I don’t know. She is astonishingly beautiful and has such amazing social graces she makes it such a pleasure to be with her. She is fun, gracious, considerate, has exquisite taste, really just perfect.

"But she is unmarried, and no one really understands exactly why. Ten years ago at Aix an Italian Prince, Prince Virigliano, rich and the real thing, was determined to marry her. As the marriage papers were being drawn up his good-looking stepson arrived and Lily, that’s her name, Lily Bart, apparently flirted with him and the two men argued openly. A scandal irrupted. Everyone began looking at her so queerly. Her horrible aunt, Mrs. Peniston, with whom she lives, felt a little ill, and thinking it was the food or climate or some such stupid thing, decided she would return home with her ward. Lily’s parents are dead and she has no money of her own, but is desired by the best people in New York City because of her beauty, her grace and her infallible tact.

"The Crown Princess of Macedonia was so taken with her when she stopped for a week at Monte Carlo she invited her to stay with her at Cimiez, wishing to bring Lily into her traveling entourage. Bertha Dorset had invited her to cruise the Mediterranean with a party of friends on her yacht the Sabrina, to occupy her husband while she dallied with a young poet. She was so jealous of Lily’s success everywhere she set sail for Monaco and the Casino at Monte Carlo, bringing Lily with her. It was there that I met her again. Bertha Dorset just did not understand that it is Lily's beauty that does it, that attracts everyone to her.  And she cannot transfer it to the people who invite her to social gatherings and voyages, so they blame her. Her face is so beautiful that it opens endless doors for her, but it also creates terrible destruction for her. Men want her and women are livid with jealousy. It's both a gift from the gods and a terrible curse.

"A Mrs. Fisher who knows her has discussed her with me. I have heard other stories too of course. A very suitable match becomes infatuated with her, and she seems ready to accept him, but then she oversleeps, goes on a picnic, etc. and the whole thing is ruined. My acquaintance Mrs. Fisher says she thinks it is because Lily despises the things she is trying for. She is twenty-nine now and more beautiful than she ever was. All of her friends’ husbands are infatuated with her, but she is lovely and polite and chaste, wanting nothing to do with them in the way they wish. She has a friend in Lawrence Selden, but he is an attorney with no assets, wealth, inherited or otherwise. He is not a possibility for Lily. She is poor, but as she often chides, she is a very expensive woman.

"I think you must meet her. She is perfect for you, and you, of course, are perfect for her. You are a Baron, exceptionally wealthy, an accomplished journalist, a writer, widowed and definitely looking for a wife and a mother for your very young son. You are not under the influence of anyone else, family or otherwise," and here the Duchess winks, "and I daresay you are experienced. You will know how to get her to say yes very quickly. I am going to New York City very soon, and I can arrange for you to meet her. The rest will be up to you naturally, but you will know how to proceed.

The Duchess winks again at me. She is known to be a liberal uninhibited person as she travels around the world of the privileged. They seek her company and pout when she tosses them off as bores. Obviously this Lily Bart does not bore her at all. In fact she is still quite taken with her. And I am intrigued to meet this American Cinderella, who does not sit by the fire in rags, but is always exquisitely dressed, sought by royalty and wealth, and looking for a husband. A husband who can offer her what I can offer. What could be more perfect.

"My gracious thanks to you. I think I shall take your advice. When are you sailing? We shall go together?" I take her hand and kiss it lingeringly.