Guy de Maupassant - The Colonel's Nieces

“It seems that Jonathan isn't back, yet,” Michael yawned. “I wonder who that could be?” And as he walked over to the window to peek through the curtains. He saw his tailor.

Jonathan meanwhile had opened the front door, telling the man that his Master was very busy in his studio and would he, the tailor, please make himself comfortable in the waiting room.

“It's the tailor, darling,” Michael said. “Do you still want to visit me in men's clothing?”

“Heavens no,” Julia said, throwing her arms around his neck. “I have come here as a woman, I have been treated as a woman, and I am very, very glad that I am a woman. I would die of shame if I had to sneak into your home dressed as a man.”

“I, too, don't think that I would really like the switch. It seemed the only way out this morning, but I am afraid that you would lose something in the transformation.”

“Why don't you send him away.”

“Go into my bedroom, and I will call Jonathan.” Julia quickly picked up her clothing and went into Michael's bedroom.

“Jonathan, I am sorry, but please send the tailor away. It was all a mistake. Tell him that he will have to come back next week, and that I need a travel costume. But today I unfortunately cannot give him any of my time.”

Jonathan grumbled something which Michael could not quite understand and then he said more clearly, “I am sorry, Sir, but I could not find that model.”

“Oh, she can go to hell,” Michael said airily.

“To hell,” the old servant thought when he went to tell the tailor about the new orders. “It seems that this latest love has really gotten to his heart. Well, let's face it, the sight of this beautiful woman makes me wish that I could not only get it up, but keep it there.”

“And prepare us something to eat,” Michael called after him.

“It will be ready when you are,” Jonathan answered.

But Michael did not hear him. He was fascinated by his Madcap who was washing herself, douching and combing her beautiful, long black hair. Julia, of course, had no idea that she was being watched and leisurely finished her toilet. Michael was so riled up that he would have pushed open the door, taken her in his arms and started all over again, were it not for the fact that Jonathan would soon be back in the studio with tea and food.

A few minutes later, Julia entered the studio, immaculately dressed and made up. She smiled at him and their hands found one another.

“And, my darling, did you find whatever you needed in my bachelor household?” Michael smiled.

“Oh, yes, everything… and then some.” Michael blushed.

“I must tell you something,” Julia continued. “My heart was dead when I entered your home this morning. And now that I am leaving it is alive again, full of hope and love.”

“Do you have to leave?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But I can't wait till we see each other again.”

“Darling, we have only known each other one week, but we have become one. I know that I belong to you, and that you belong to me. But all I know is that you are Madcap. Please, tell me your name.”

“The world knows me as Donna Jose de Corriero, and some still remember me when I was the Viscountess Saniska. But for you, darling, I am Julia.”

And at the same moment, all the plans which had been hatched for the house in the Rue Charles V were forgotten. Julia was in love, deeply in love, and she had decided to bare her heart to the man to whom she had already given her body to the fullest extent possible.

“Oh, Julia, you have made me happy with your confession. But why, my dear child, do you have to leave? Stay with me for the night.”

“No, I have given orders to be picked up at the station at ten o'clock, and my servants think that I went to see my sister who lives in the country. No, no! I have to be there on time.”

“Fine, then let's see what Jonathan has cooked up for us.”

Just at that moment Jonathan entered to announce that a repast had been served. He saw that Julia looked as immaculate as if she had just come out of the hands of her chambermaid. And his master talked to her as if she were a patron who had come to order some paintings.

“Oh, well,” he thought when he left the studio, “these people of the world seem to enjoy faking it. If it gives them their jollies, who am I to say something about it. But, if I had not looked through the keyhole and seen for myself that they were screwing their hearts out, I would never have guessed.”

Meanwhile Julia and Michael were doing honor to Jonathan's cooking.

“You said, darling,” Michael began, “that your heart was dead when you entered this home. Would it be possible to tell me a little bit more about yourself? Don't you think that I deserve your trust? Surely you have loved and suffered, of that I am sure. And you could no longer believe that happiness was possible for you. Am I right?”

“You are close enough.”

“Would you mind telling me the details?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“I don't want lurid details, but I feel a little possessive toward you, and I have great plans for the future. I would not want to start off with misunderstandings. Tell me about your husband: was he young or old, did you love him?”

“He was seventy-eight…

“Seventy-eight,” Michael exploded, and an icy hand gripped around his heart. This beautiful creature had given herself to a senile old man in exchange for money and a title? Maybe the old man had been very poor… desperately Michael tried to create a thousand excuses, but the word seventy-eight stuck in his throat like the bone of a fish.

Julia noticed his consternation and she continued. “He died two years ago, and I will honor his memory forever, because he was a dear and fatherly friend, as good a friend as any girl could wish for.”

“A father? A friend?” Michael asked.

“Yes! A father,” Julia emphasized.

“Nothing more?”

“No, nothing more.”

But suddenly Julia understood. She could read Michael's mind as if it were an open book, and her eyes blazed.

“Do you think… oh! This thought is disgusting and insulting!”

“Why, darling?”

“Because you think that I belonged to him, and shared his bed!”

“Well, till now I have always believed that a man takes himself a wife so that he can go to bed with her.”

“It so happened that this was not the case of Don Jose de Carriero, and if you care to listen, you doubting Thomas, I shall tell you about my life.”

“Oh, a general confession.”

“If you want to call it that.”

“Well, my dear penitent, I promise complete absolution beforehand.” Michael's tone was light and airy, because he did not want a repeat of Julia's sudden temper flare-up. “Sit down next to me, my daughter, and explain to me how it was that you had a husband who was only a father and friend but, still, managed to lack that which distinguishes an innocent virgin from an experienced woman.”

“I'll confess, dear Father.” Julia fell into the game. She lowered herself and sat between his thighs, her head resting in his lap.

“Now I understand why so many father confessors get into trouble,” Michael jokingly said, to make it easier for Julia to begin. “And, my dear Madcap Julia, I promise you that I will reward your confession with one of mine.”

She told him about her early life with Aunt Briquart who had raised her and her sister, Florentine as if they were own children. How her sister, Florentine had married the only relative of the Colonel, Aunt Briquart's late husband, and how she, shuddering at the thought of becoming an old, rich man's wife, had given herself to the young and dashing Count Saski. How she had become his mistress, and how his Aunt Athena who in faraway Poland held the purse strings had forced him to marry Lady Wilhelmina Soustbacka. Then she told him about the fatherly help she had from General Don Jose de Carriero and how she and the old man had taken care of Don Jose's dearly beloved mistress, the Baroness de Sambreval. She talked about her sorrows, her dashed hopes and about the great help of Don Jose's unwavering friendship. How, when death neared, he had wanted to make her his heir, and had done so by asking her hand in marriage. She talked about everything, except one. She never mentioned her wild night with the Count de Paliseul. It certainly had slipped her mind.