And victory was inevitable. I might score occasionally in our verbal battles but physically I was no match for him.
But I fought. how I fought! I whipped up my hatred for him and somewhere at the back of my mind I realized that I was fighting not only him but something in myself. some erotic curiosity, some desire for this conflict. some craving for the ultimate satisfaction. I was vanquished but I felt a certain wild exhilaration in defeat and the stronger my hatred, the greater my excitement.
The bed was like a battlefield that night.
The next day passed as the previous one. I was beginning to feel I had spent a lifetime in my prison. I wondered whether his object was to keep me here until he had subdued my spirit to such an extent that I meekly submitted to him. If he ever did that, I felt, he would probably be tired of the adventure and let me go.
Sometimes still I thought I was dreaming. There was such an atmosphere of unreality about the whole matter, and yet, knowing him, I supposed it was natural enough.
He saw a woman; he thought he would like to seduce her and he set about his purpose. But he had known that there would never have been an easy submission with me. It had to be force, and so it had been.
The evening supper was served as before. I thought he was a little different. Was there a shade of regret. tenderness. Oh no. That was too strong a word. He could never be tender. However, there was a change in him and I wondered what it meant.
He said rather soberly as he poured the wine: “Kate, it has been a wonderful experience … our being together.”
I was silent.
“Would you believe me if I told you I had never enjoyed an association so much?”
“No,” I said.
“It’s true. Why should I lie to you? There is no reason, is there?”
“I have not found you reasonable, so why should I expect you to be so now?”
“You will learn that my actions have been well within the bounds of reason. I really acted with a very good reason for doing so.”
“Which was the satisfaction of your lust, your desire to exert your malevolent powers.”
“Absolutely right. Dear Kate, what an observant woman you are.”
“It does not need a great deal of observation to assess a man’s character when his actions are those of a barbarian.”
Not all. “
“You are going to remind me that you launched me on my career. I wish I had never heard of you. I wish I had never come to your castle and learned that there are people in the world who are nothing more than savages.”
“Such tirades are not very interesting and the theme of this one is becoming somewhat repetitious.”
“It must be when everything I say to you has to tell you how much I loathe and despise you.”
“Do you know, I got a different impression last night.”
“You have degraded me. You have treated me as no honourable man would ever treat a woman. What you have done is a criminal offence. In those old days of which you are so fond, you would have been hanged or sent to the galleys for what you have done.”
“Not a man in my position. I believe that one of my ancestors used to waylay travellers, bring them here and hold them to ransom. Yet he was never asked to account for his misdeeds.”
“A little game which might appeal to you.”
“It doesn’t appeal in the least. I have money in plenty.”
“How fortunate for the travellers!”
“If one has sufficient power and er expertise, shall I say, one can do a great deal which other people cannot. I am going to tell you a true story of one of my ancestors. Would you like to hear it?”
“I would prefer to walk out of this place and never see you again.”
“You would continue to see me in your mind’s eye and my voice would haunt your dreams.”
“I shall do everything in my power to wipe them from my memory.”
“Oh, Kate, has it been so hateful for you?”
“Words cannot describe how hateful. When I leave here I shall be able to see it in all its horror and I will never forget or forgive you for what you have done to me.”
“Those are harsh words.”
“Deservedly so.”
“Let me tell you this story of my ancestor. I think it will interest you.”
I did not answer and he went on: “It happened a long time ago, in the thirteenth century to be exact, in the reign of Philippe who was known as Le Bel because he was so handsome. This ancestor of mine was Florence, Earl of Holland. A strange name for a man, you think. But some names are used for men and women here. Florence was a man who had had many love-affairs.”
T can understand your affinity, though love-a. Sa. us seems an odd way to describe them. “
He ignored the interruption.
“Florence had a mistress to whom he was rather grateful. He had many mistresses, of course, but this one had become more important to him than any of the others had been. There came a time when he had finished with her and he wanted to see her settled into respectable marriage.”
“With someone else, I presume, since he no longer had any use for her?”
“Oh, you are listening then. I’m glad of that for I am sure you will find this very interesting. He asked one of his ministers to marry her. This minister indignantly refused, saying that he would never marry one of Florence’s castoff mistresses.”
“I am not surprised that he refused.”
“Florence didn’t like it. He was very powerful. Can you guess what he did?”
I was looking at him intently now and slow horror was beginning to dawn on me. I said: “You want to tell me, don’t you?”
“That minister was at the time enamoured of a woman whom he wished to marry. He married her and snapped his fingers at his master. There was no question then of his being forced to marry Florence’s mistress.”
“So poor Florence did not get his way for once?”
“Oh, he did. He never allowed anyone to get the better of him. Can you guess what he did. He waylaid the new wife one day and had her brought to his castle. Can you guess what happened?”
I stared at him in mounting horror.
“He kept her there for three days,” he said, watching me intently.
“The records say that he violated her against her will. Then he sent her back to his minister with a note saying:
“You were wrong. You see you did marry one of my mistresses.” ” ” What a terrible story. “
He was silent for a few moments, regarding me over the candelabrum.
“I tell you this,” he said, ‘to let you know what my ancestors were like. So what can you expect of me? “
“I knew already that they were barbarians. What happened to the noble Florence?”
“He was murdered later on.”
“Oh!” I’m glad. The story has the right ending after all. The wronged husband murdered him, I suppose. “
“It was generally believed to be so.”
“It should be a lesson to all barbarians.”
“Barbarians never learn that sort of lesson.”
“No, I suppose not.”
He was smiling at me. I felt sick with apprehension. This was beginning to take on a new meaning. Before I had felt I would fight every inch of the way even though the battle was lost. But now . I could not bear to think of what this meant. He was more cynical than I had believed even him to be.
I stood up. He said: “Are you ready? Where are you going?”
“I would go anywhere to get away from you.”
“Poor Kate!” he said and caught me in his arms.
For the first time I felt as though I want to burst into tears. I could see what he was doing. This was nothing to do with his desire for me. I was a symbol. He had discovered that Bertrand and I were betrothed and he had demanded that Bertrand marry Nicole. Bertrand had refused. So the Baron had taken me so that he could say as his ancestor had before him: “You will marry a mistress of mine after all, even though she is not the one I planned for you.”
I believe I could have killed him if I had been capable of the physical strength. He deserved the same fate as his ancestor.
“Kate,” he said.
“I’m in love with you.”
“I know you are capable of every evil, but you are not capable of loving anyone, so there is no need to tell blatant lies.”
“There is no need, is there, for me to say what I do not mean?”
“You love yourself… your pride … your lust … your greed . that is what you love.”
“I love myself, yes … but next to myself it’s you … for tonight.”
I laid a hand on his arm.
“Let me go … please?” I begged.
“So appealing. So beautiful,” he said and he picked me up in his arms.
I lay on the bed . supine . indifferent almost. Violation had become commonplace. My body was no longer my own. I was weary, tired of reiterating my hatred.
I murmured: “If only I could send time back. If only I could go back to the time when I was in Paris. I could go home … instead of coming here …”
“You would have missed the greatest experience of your life.”
“The greatest degradation.”
Then I lost my indifference and shouted at him . my hatred and contempt.
He did not heed me. He just turned to me and showed me once more that I was his to command.
It was morning. I was awakened by the sound of footsteps and voices. I sat up in bed. My robe was lying on the floor where he had thrown it.
Someone was coming into the room.
It was the Baron and with him . Bertrand.
I saw then that this was the final scene of a farce . comedy. tragedy. whatever he meant it to be. This was the climax towards which he had been working.
“Mademoiselle Collison is here,” he was saying.
“She has been here for three nights … with me. Well, Bertrand, there is no need for me to say more. I wish you a felicitous life together. I can assure you, Kate is a most desirable woman. Many will envy you. I myself for one.
And another time, Bertrand, don’t be a fool. Do as I tell you. You must not think because I have given you some independence you can flout me. “
That moment remains in my memory forever. There was a sudden stillness in the room. It was as though we were all inanimate outlines in a picture.
Bertrand stared at me first in amazement and then in growing understanding. Horror . disbelief. realization . disgust. I saw all those emotions in his face.
His lips formed my name: “Kate …”
I raised myself holding the coverlet about me.
I cried out: “I was brought here … drugged … forced …”
Bertrand continued to stare at me. Then he turned to the Baron who stood there smiling evilly . like the demon-gargoyle on Notre Dame.
He nodded slowly in affirmation.
“She fought like a wild cat,” he said.
“But I think we came to an … understanding.”
Bertrand’s face was distorted. I thought he was going to weep. Then suddenly his expression changed. There was nothing but hatred. He sprang at the Baron but that wicked man was waiting for him. Bertrand was at his throat but the Baron picked him up and threw him from him.
Bertrand went down and slid across the floor.
“Get up,” said the Baron.
“You are making a fool of yourself … and before Kate. Kate, your clothes will be brought up to you. Dress and take a little food.” He laid an envelope on the table.
“Here is the payment for the portrait as we arranged, and here also are the tickets you will need. You may leave in an hour’s time. The carriage will take you to the station. All the connections have been checked. I presume you will want to go straight to England for a rest before you take up your next commission. Bertrand can conduct you as far as he wishes.”
With that he turned away and left us.
Bertrand had picked himself up. He was shaken by the fall but not so much as he had been by what he had seen and heard.
I was sorry for him. I could see that his humiliation was almost as deep as my own; and I knew in that moment that I could never marry him. I could never marry anyone after this.
He stood looking at me.
“Kate,” he said.
“He … is a monster,” I said.
“I want to go home.”
He nodded.
“I want to leave this place at the earliest possible moment.”
The woman came in with my clothes and hot water. Bertrand left us.
“I’ll bring you some petit dejeuner,” said the woman, cosy as ever.
“No, thanks,” I said.
“I want nothing more here. I want to leave at once.”
She did not answer but set down the hot water. I washed hastily and dressed. It seemed strange to be in my own clothes again.
I even found the pins for my hair on the table with the mirror and I laughed a little hysterically to think how precisely everything had been taken-care of.
Dressed, I felt myself again a different person from the one in the furred robe and cloud of hair. Peering closely at my face I detected a difference there. What was it a look of worldliness? Eve must have looked like that after having eaten the forbidden fruit.
I descended the short spiral staircase. The great iron-studded door was open.
I found my way out of the tower and down to the room where it seemed so long ago I had partaken of pot aufeu and drugged wine.
Bertrand was outside with the carriage. There was no sign of the Baron. I supposed he had gone back to the castle. The little adventure which had ruined my life and brought him the satisfaction he had needed, was over.
I said: “Let us go. Let us get away from this place.”
So we went together.
Bertrand said very little during the journey. I thought it would never end. We had left Rouen and were approaching the coast.
I said to him: “There is no need for you to cross the Channel. I don’t need an escort in my own country.”
He nodded again.
When we reached Calais, there was an hour to wait for the packet-boat.
I said: “Don’t stay, Bertrand.”
“I will see you safely on board,” he replied.
He sat looking over the sea. Then he did talk a little.
He said: “I’ll kill him.”
“It would change nothing.”
“It would be a blessing for mankind.”
I 7 I
“Bertrand, don’t talk like that. It would be a double tragedy if you gave way to revenge.”