Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book I

To my surprise, he accepted the message curtly and sulkily. He frowned and his face grew dull.

I must not make myself out too clever. This change of countenance when I spoke of his daughter struck me as strange at the time, but I did not attach the importance to it that I do now. In fact, I am certain that all through the year 1898, I was not as perspicacious as before. I suppose my illness must have dulled my brain. I am perfectly sure that at any other time of my life I should not have been so patient as I was with Miss Arvel, nor should I have continued my liaison with her.

I am certain now that I was blinded by my great desire for her, and that my ordinary power of reasoning had been shaken by the severe trial I had undergone.

I did hunger for the girl, in spite of her mercenary disposition, and I fancied that she had some sort of love for me. I ventured to think that there was a little affection for me in her selfish soul.

LILIAN TO JACKY.

Tuesday. (No date or place.) Received April 26, 1898.

My dear little Papa,

Two of my letters with no reply from you. I do not understand it. That my last from Monaco did not get an answer, I allow, but how about my second? You have been ill and to prove to you that I have a little heart more tender than yours, I send you this note, but I swear it will be the last, if it is not more successful than the others. Then I shall understand that you wish to forget the end of the year 1897.

I have been bitten by Blackamoor in trying to prevent him killing another dog. As my right hand is damaged, I am obliged to use the machine to write to you.

I am anxious to have news of your health, which is only given to me very imperfectly by Papa, from what he hears of your people at the Bourse.

Therefore I pray you to answer me as quickly as possible, if you care to make me forget your gross rudeness.

I suppose you will honor us with your presence soon. Perhaps that is asking too much?

I count absolutely upon a scribble as soon as possible,

LILIAN.

JACKY TO LILIAN.

Wednesday, April 27, 1898.

My dear little girl,

I had much pleasure in receiving news of your dear self. I have been thinking about you for a long time. In my thoughts you possess a double personality. Firstly, you are my sweet little woman with an intoxicating mouth, and then you change into an amiable and demure young lady. I have been asking myself which you were going to be for me in the future?

I see that you have not forgotten the end of November, any more than I have.

The two last communications I received from you from Monaco, were a letter, to hand February 20th, and a souvenir postcard on the twenty-first. Since then I have two letters from Mr. Arvel and that is all. Have you posted me another letter which I never received? That is surprising.

Yes, I was angry, I confess, when I received your last letter from Monaco. Ill, exhausted by pain, I wrote you a few words in pencil from my bed. You answer me quite coolly, without saying a word about me or my health. I lost my temper and wrote to you no more. I will tell you about this when I see you.

Since the tenth of February up to Good Friday, I have been in bed, then confined to my room, with lots of ups and downs-more of the latter-and now I get out, but not yet at night. I think it is all over.

I hope your bite will be nothing. I will teach you how to separate two fighting dogs. I pose as a cunning professor, but nevertheless, I was bitten myself last September, through tearing Smike away from a big hound. I never told anybody, not knowing the strange cur. But I am not frightened of going mad. I am perhaps mad already, who knows?

My poor Sally Brass, the mother of your Lili, died Saturday night last. She took cold. There was congestion of the lungs. Friday, they put on her a mustard plaster; then another Saturday night, and she dropped down dead. It was impossible to foresee this. I've had enough of dumb animals. Never again, after those I have are gone. Smike is wonderfully well. My two little bitches also, except Sally's daughter. She is unhappy. She keeps seeking for her mother.

The closing sentence of your letter ”… honor us with your presence-that is perhaps asking too much,” is a pretty little piece of impertinence, which I certainly do not deserve. Our private petty quarrels have nothing to do with my visits to Sonis, I think. Have I not always been correct? You deserve to be severely punished. If you want to be chastised, come quickly to Paris, one afternoon when it is fine-will you?

Little Lilian, do you feel naughty and wicked? Answer me quickly and fix a day for your coming, no matter when. I will await you, as on the last occasion, to kiss you all over and make you enjoy as much as I can. It will be very lovely. Come! I want you-entirely.

You see that I am not very bad and that my anger does not last long, especially with you, my daughter treasure.

My lips on yours,

YOUR PAPA.

I can see now as I write, that either by the effect of my illness itself, or possibly on account of the enormous quantity of salicylate of soda I had absorbed, I did not see things as clearly as I ought to have done.

For instance, I reproached Lilian with not having mentioned my malady in the letter where she asked for the two hundred francs. This was quite wrong on my part, as the reader will have seen.

At the same time, I ought to have been more impressed with her story of the letter which was mislaid. I have received hundreds of letters in Paris at various addresses, business missives and love-letters, either at my dwelling, wherever it may have been, or even at post-offices, during the course of my various intrigues, and I cannot remember that one single one was ever lost.

I have not the slightest doubt that Lilian told a lie. She never wrote to me on her return from the South. If she had, she would have shown some anxiety for the ultimate fate of her letter, and would have been uneasy lest it should have fallen into the hands of some of my numerous relatives, who were daily at my bedside, or been stolen by a servant. I shall allude to the lost letter mania later on in my narrative. And when I tell her that I never received the epistle she mentions, she takes it as a matter of course, as the reader will see in the ensuing translation:

LILIAN TO JACKY.

(No date or place.) Received April 28, 1898.

Beloved little Papa,

Your note has poured some balm into my heart, although it caused me to shed two big tears. Yes, I must confess that the death of Sally Brass made me weep, when I think she was neglected during your illness! If I had had the care of her, how different it would have been. Happily, my big darling Smike is well, but then you look after him yourself.

The reproach you make to me about my last letter from Monaco is unmerited. If you had read it properly you would have seen that on the contrary it was full of allusions to your health. The only thing that might have wounded your feelings was the demand I made, for naturally you have now classed me in the ranks of mercenary females.

And yet if you knew me well you would never have dreamt of such a thing. I was in a fix and worried. I supposed that I could tell you my troubles and even ask you to help me. I see that I made a mistake; let us say no more about it!

One of my letters has gone astray. I wrote to you immediately on my return home.

My health is good. I am slightly unwell at present, but that is nothing.

I can only see you in some little time from now. At present, I have no customers in Paris. I must therefore find a plausible excuse. But you will lose nothing by waiting.

I send you my best caresses, grumbling Papa!

LILIAN.

This letter was useful to me, as by reason of the mention of her slight indisposition, which I took to be her menstrual derangement, it fixed for me certain monthly dates.