Gustav Schlling: Memoirs of a Baron

Lady Betty, I thought. None of my acquaintances had that name.

I drove off, stopped at the hotel, was led into a beautiful room, and soon Lady Betty entered.

I was surprised to recognize my beautiful paramour.

She noticed my surprise and assured me in the most charming manner that an irrepressible desire to see me again had caused her to make herself known to me. I pulled her down with me on the sofa and tried every conceivable means to get her passions inflamed. She took me into a bedroom; I undressed her and rubbed her buttocks with a fine woolen cloth till they turned red. The lips of her temple became engorged, her snow-white bosom heaved, her lips quivered and her eyes became very dark and languid.

She admitted that she had never felt such a devouring fire inside her passion pit in all her life and when I laid her down, guiding my prick to its goal, her hips thrashed in the motions for which I had begged so unsuccessfully at our first meeting. It increased my pleasure enormously. With true ecstasy we floated through the clouds of passion.

Lady Betty, too, loved strongly, with passion and intensity. It is very pleasant to see an English woman who is in love. The great and noble way in which they love inspires awe. If you feel like embracing the French girl, you feel like kneeling before the English one. She gives herself either without reserve and restriction, or she does not give herself at all, and she would rather do away with herself than submit to a lover of whose infidelity she is convinced. And if she is sure of infidelity her worst punishment is utter disdain; and an English girl is very seldom carried away by thoughts for revenge. And her soul is too noble to think first and foremost about the possibility of deceit; if she becomes suspicious, she will first investigate before accusing, and if she is satisfied, one way or the other, she will act accordingly. I have been told that an English girl gone astray surpasses anything the imagination might conjure in regards to debauchery. Personally I have never met such a girl.

For a while I visited a young female, a girl of pleasure, and I can assure you that her behavior and demeanor could set an example for many a well-born and noble lady. She guided the conversation with wit, taste and spirit. And everybody who from time to time might taste her highest favor considered himself very lucky. One might say that she only made one lover at a time the happiest man in England.

Shortly before my departure from London, I asked her jokingly if it would not be possible that I could brag in Germany about having tasted the favors of England's most beautiful woman and that I had embraced one whose charms would pale those of the famous Lais of Corinth.

“Sir,” she answered, “if you knew Lais of Corinth as well as I do, then you should be the first one to know that you have said too much. I am a poor girl. I do not even possess her tenderness, let alone her other qualities. But if you believe that you can find pleasure with me, you are invited for tomorrow night.”

That next night my mistress guided me into the sacred halls of love, a room that breathed voluptuousness and passion. Everything one saw or felt was designed to stir even greater passions. Soon she stood before me like Venus arising out of the sea. I looked at her with surprised delight and closed her into my arms. And in her embrace I found the female created to love and experienced everything which a mortal could possibly experience in love's intimate embrace.

I had seen in the home in which I lived one of the most beautiful females, one who seemed to have everything a beautiful Roman girl should have. One night when I was in bed, thinking about this gorgeous female, I suddenly heard an incredible noise downstairs. I rushed out of my bed, opened the door and a half dead girl flung herself into my arms. I quickly closed the door again and carried my unconscious beauty to the bed. It was she! I dressed, saw to it that I could properly defend myself, left my room, locking the door from the outside, and ran downstairs.

“She has escaped,” the landlord said. “Your trouble is in vain.”

A young man, his eyes burning, grabbed me by the arm. “Get my sister back to me immediately, or else…”

The noise started all over again, and I could make neither head nor tail out of the whole affair. Suddenly someone walked up to the furious young man, whispered something into his ear, and everybody suddenly fled out of the front door.

I asked the landlord for clarification.

“A young girl who has lived here for several days now is being followed by them. I don't know why. But it seems she has escaped.”

I ran back to my room. The girl had come to herself, but she turned snow-white when she saw that I was armed.

“Be quiet, beautiful lady,” I said. “You are safe. Command me what you want me to do next.”

She told me that she was the daughter of a Florentine merchant, that she had been abducted from her home which she had left to go to the theater, that she had finally succeeded in fleeing from her abductors, but to her horror she had been discovered again by them.

“And who is the foul robber?”

She gave me the name of a well-known Marquis.

A strange story, but being in Italy, it could very well endanger my life. Meanwhile I had decided to restore the daughter to her parents.

“But, my beautiful girl, even though you are safe now, I doubt whether it is wise to stay in this house.”

“Save me, in whichever way you think best.”

“I will be honored to do that. However, dearest girl, you need to rest and, unfortunately, I have only one bed.”

“There are chairs.”

“Oh, no, I want to be very sure that you are safe, even when sleeping.”

I kissed her and she cast down her eyes in shame.

“I was very foolish, dear sir, to seek safety in your chambers. But yesterday I decided to tell you about my troubles, because you gave me confidence. Could it be possible that my judgment has made so serious a mistake?”

“No, no, my beauty. But when I tell you that I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, what is your answer then?”

(Shrugging her shoulders): “I am at your mercy.”

“Beautiful and gracious darling… ask your heart. It must be out of free will that you consent to happiness in my embraces. If not, I swear to you upon my honor that I will not touch you except for a few harmless kisses.”

“Could you do that? I mean, you would be a saving angel.”

I promised her, and after a long talk I managed to get her to bed. I helped undress her and assured her that it was incredibly hard for me to know so many charms were near me without the possibility of enjoying them.

I made a bed out of clothes and laundry on the floor for myself, lay down upon it, covering myself with an overcoat, and soon I slept peacefully.

It was almost noon when I woke up. I went into the bedroom and stood near the bed. What a beautiful sight! Her face looked like that of an angel. I sat down, not daring to kiss her rosebud lips lest I awaken and frighten her.

She woke up and a pink blush reddened her face; her beautiful eyes looked at me fondly. I took her hand and kissed her cheek. A deep shudder went through me when she returned the kiss.

“Oh, noble man,” she sighed, “I was so apprehensive when I went to sleep, and I feel so secure now that I am awakening.”

“And I will do whatever is in my power so that you may awaken every day as safely as you did today.”

She finally allowed me to be present while she was dressing and making her toilette, and she even accepted my assistance.

We decided that she would travel to Florence in men's clothing, and with the help of my servant, we succeeded in getting everything in order by the next day. I have never traveled more pleasantly than with this 'signer.' A true Adonis whom I could never kiss and caress too much.