Madame Couer-Brulant - The Cousins,volume II

She also decided that the boy needed a good hot bath and plenty of scrubbing with lots of soap and water. When that was done they donned him in Spanish clothing which looked very good on him. In a few days Pedro and little Claire were the best of friends.

“If Michael wants it,” Julia said, “he can do the same for Pedro as I am doing for Claire, and maybe the two children can get married when they have reached the proper age.”

And, since they could not make a decision for Pedro till Michael showed up, the boy stayed at the castle.

The days came and went, almost every one of them brought a passionate letter from Michael, but the story was basically the same. His dear aunt kept hovering between life and death; she did not want her beloved nephew to leave, and it seemed that patience was about the only thing Michael and Julia would be able to exercise.

Julia took her new mother role very seriously-she taught the child to read and write, and to have good manners. One can imagine her fury when, one day, she discovered her adopted daughter on her back in the grass, her little legs spread, allowing Pedro to examine her very carefully. His main interest was in his little companion's lower belly where his fingers were probing with an expertness one would not expect from a little boy barely twelve years old.

The children were so absorbed in their game that they did not notice the arrival of Julia and Dorothy. Julia put her fingers on her lips and with a few quick steps, she suddenly stood in front of the startled children. She yanked Claire by one arm, brushing the girl's skirts down, while Pedro tried to run away.

“Here, boy!” Dorothy jumped forward and grabbed him. “What are you two doing there! I'll sure ask Madame to punish you severely!”

“Pedro wanted it,” the little girl cried.

“That does not mean you have to give it, young lady. And Dorothy is going to teach you that from now on you should not lightly follow a boy's desires.”

Julia broke a few twigs from the nearest bush and handed them to her maid. “Lift the skirts of this foolish girl and give her a sound thrashing.”

Dorothy grabbed the girl around the waist, pulled up her skirts and painted the little white behind with a few furious red stripes. Claire screamed as if she was being slaughtered, her little legs trampled helplessly and she tried to no avail to wriggle out of Dorothy's strong grip.

“And now,” Julia said, when Dorothy put the screaming child back on the ground, “I advise you never to be discovered in such a position again till you are quite a lot older.”

Claire disappeared quickly.

Pedro still stood at the same spot. He had not moved a muscle.

“And you, young man, since you are older than the girl, and since you were the one who seduced her, will get a sounder thrashing than a weak woman can give you. I am going to call the gardener.”

“What for?”

“To give you a sound thrashing.”

“I kill him if he touches me.”

“Is that so? We'll see about that.”

“If I have to be punished,” the boy said with a sigh, “it should be done by my father, and not by a servant.”

“But you don't have a father.”

“Then I'll wait till Monsieur Lompret arrives.”

“That may be some time.”

“I can wait.”

“No nonsense, boy. I am going to call the only man present.”

“I'll never allow that man to touch me. Honest! I'll run away. And since you took me in, you are more or less my mother. You are the only one who has the right to punish me.”

Julia recognized the proud Spaniard in him, and it flashed through her mind that this orphaned boy might once have been from a good family.

“If that's your wish, young man,” she said, “so be it. But don't be deluded. If I set my mind to it, I can give you a solid thrashing.”

“I deserve it,” was the boy's only answer.

Julia did not exactly want to whip the boy out in the open, so she ordered him to go inside and wait for her in her boudoir.

The boy obeyed.

Julia locked the door behind her. Her boudoir was at the end of a long hallway, and no one would be able to hear the protestations she fully expected. She took off her hat, pulled up her sleeves, and Pedro, who till now had been very calm and almost in control of the situation, began to show signs of nervousness. He saw that she rolled the big armchair into the middle of the room and knew that Julia was dead serious. He understood that the critical moment had approached, and he fell on his knees, pleading for mercy in a loud voice.

But Julia's mind remained unchanged. After all, it would have been unfair to punish Claire, and to let Pedro get away with it.

“If you don't obey. I can always call the gardener,” she threatened. The boy quieted down immediately.

“Come on, unbutton your pants.”

And when Pedro did not obey quickly enough, Julia's expert fingers loosened his buttons and the boy's pants fell to the floor before he had had a chance to grab then and hold on to them. Then she pulled him across the arm of the chair with her left hand, lifted his shirt, and with her other hand she gave him twenty resounding slaps till his buttocks began to redden visibly. The boy howled as if Julia was about to murder him.

Madame de Corriero, exhausted by this work, which she was not used to at all, fell down upon the couch. She was astonished to see that Pedro, though crying, did not seem to think about putting his pants back on.

The boy, who was still sobbing, rubbed his sore behind, but remained motionless across the arm of the chair. Julia's surprise became even greater when she noticed something which she had least of all expected.

Either Pedro was far ahead of his age, or he had lied about it. His prick was standing up and had a size which would have made a traveling monk jealous.

“Well, well,” Julia said to herself, “that's funny.”

“Come on, dress yourself,” she said in a loud, commanding voice, “and don't let me ever catch you doing such a thing again. I do not wish to punish you, but I shall not hesitate if the necessity arises.”

The little scene stayed in the back of her mind, and Julia became more than slightly curious about the boy.

And, only a week later, Pedro was again ordered into Julia's boudoir. He had stolen several items from the pantry and was caught red-handed by Dorothy. He denied everything.

Julia was furious this time. She did not mind that the boy had taken some food, but in all the years she had known Dorothy, she knew her maid to be honesty itself.

“If you know what's good for you,” she said to the boy, “you will be in my boudoir at one o'clock sharp.” This was the time when all the servants took their siesta.

Julia had steeled herself, and she was awaiting the penitent with the firm intention of giving him a sound thrashing.

“You have stolen, and you have lied,” she said. “This is almost unforgivable, and you'd better be prepared for severe punishment. Get yourself in position.”

The boy blushed, but he did not obey her.

“Didn't you hear what I said?”

“Yes, but I am ashamed.”

“If you don't feel shame when committing a crime, you shouldn't feel it for the punishment.”

Pedro, who had been called into the boudoir at very short notice, had no time to think about any good excuses. He also wore not much more than a pair of shorts and a shirt. Julia had no trouble at all undressing the boy and he stood mother naked before her in no time at all. Julia took a hazel rod, which she had acquired for this occasion and ordered the boy again to bend over.

“Do you want to use that for punishing me?” he asked, his eyes blazing, pointing at the rod in Julia's hand.

“Yes.”

“I don't want that.”