J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

What I wish perhaps. To marry a white haired man with so much money with whom I would not sleep and do the things I do with you and he should die within the year. And I would come and be your mistress. All dressed in black. And maybe just a light blue ribbon in my hair. Would you treat me well and take me on boats up and down the Rhine. I would say you were my son. You would keep your head down and walk around on your knees and squeak out when people asked, that you were Master Hortense and this was your big great old mother. We would sneak around the watering places. Sipping up the minerals. And go as you said from Bucharest to St. Petersburgh through all the towns and places you showed me on the map. Along green valleys and around white mountains. To Budapest and Prague, and whoops, I nearly missed Vienna. Then east to Warsaw across Poland all flat and lonely. No one would ever know us if we went wading in the Baltic Sea. We would be lost together and hold hands on an ice floe on the Gulf of Finland. And somewhere it's always black in sleep at night. And Bella faded away from shore. She stood in a long white lacy gown and waved back to the little boy. Further and further she floated. Out on the grey icy sea. Licked by salty cold waves. Then I was the little boy. Running back through my life asking dark shadows the way to go. And they stood and looked down at me with jelly fish eyes and said we don't know. On I ran. Towards the arms of God. When first a country summer I was an altar boy. And carried a candle high. And in the rose garden stood the holiest Slouch. I shouted don't devour me you bloodthirsty priest. He was looking rather awkward in long winter underwear. Muttering that he was delegated to cast out the indecent apparelled. And put to shame all those suddenly found nose deep in smut. And the bicycle seat sniffers' band paraded by. As Masterdon swaggered across the cricket pitch saying in his loud boasting voice that he had quite fairly rogered his father's gardener's daughter right down between the green house tomato plants. And two footed gavotting Slouch said as he waved his tennis racket on high, I know that my redeemer liveth you damn devious boys, I know that he liveth and delivereth us from fleshy tomfoolery. Here spoken, my villainish boys, from verse nine of erotica. And Masterdon was waving his small penis in saucy applause and Beefy sat in a nearby tree eating an apple, and singing O For The Wings Of A Dove. And awake. Dark and the ticking clock. Bella. Don't leave me and are you gone. Run to you out of my bed now. Clutch you. Bury my face in your soft welcoming breasts. Hold me away from all that darkness. Like the narrow Rue Allent. The notice up on the wall. Urinators Will Be Prosecuted. And that day we went to the church of St. Louis where I was baptised. Nearly thirteen years ago from this morning of dismay.

Miss Hortense came in with breakfast. Her eyes red and cheeks blotched. And put the tray on my bed. Opened my window and lowered the awning on a rising sun. In her white frilly blouse, grey skirt and black shoes. A locket round her neck. I reach to kiss her. And she pulls my arms from around her neck. And holds my face between her hands and let me please cut a strand of your hair. It curled round her finger.

And she tied it tight with a long strand of her own brown 98 hair. And put it in the locket on top of my picture when I was six years old and standing by the sea.

"Bella what does it mean.'

"Balthazar listen to me. Listen. I am going to have to go away. Just as I always knew I would. This evening on the train. I am packed. No listen to me. I must. I love you. A war is coming. And I somehow know it is when they say it isn't.

You'll be gone to your new school."

"Will you visit me."

"I will try."

"O Bella say you will."

"I will."

"And write to me."

"Yes."

"I don't want you to go. Or ever leave me. I love you so dearly."

"Then you would do one thing for me wouldn't you."

"Yes, what is it."

"Let me speak to your mother alone. There are things I would like to say. That I would not like you to hear. And you mustn't mind too much when I go. We've had some awfully happy times. True love is always sure disaster."

"O please Bella, don't say such a harsh thing."

"I must go."

At nine thirty the salon doors closed. And Balthazar tip toes there. He waved away the cook who lurked in the pantry hall. She wiped her hands in her apron and scurried when Balthazar said shoo. And on the silk soft carpet he stood in his bare feet and robe and peeked through the keyhole.

His mother sat on a golden legged chair. In a white linen suit. String of pearls at her tan neck and her blond hair brushed back from her temples. A great diamond pin stuck from the bun gently golden at the back of her head. And she tapped a small silver pencil on her engagement book.

To see only Bella's legs and hands folded in her lap. And wish that my penis would not go hard and stiff. When anyone can look at you and say you are a naughty boy.

"Miss Hortense. I am a woman. It will be less painful if I do not beat around the bush. I will say what I have to say. I am, perhaps, not a good mother. I have no wish to make anyone unhappy. But I could not do otherwise than what I am doing now. I must give you your notice. That is understood."

"Madam I love your son and want to marry him."

"What. Do you want me to go and jump off the balcony.

He is a child."

"He is a man."

"Come come my dear girl, what do you take me for. We are grown people and he is but a boy. You should know what you are doing, Miss Hortense. It is far too easy to seduce such a sheltered little creature as Balthazar. I would like to know before you leave that you shall not have contact with him again. That is clear."

"Yes."

"And very wise of you. You are of good family. And I do not blame you or Balthazar as I should have seen what was happening myself. It is a troublesome world. One does as one likes, if one can. There are rules. Be discreet and do not get caught. But believe me Miss Hortense you were lucky to get caught. A beautiful girl like you should have better things to do. Balthazar will be a bit lovesick but he will get over it."

Miss Hortense; standing. A white handkerchief clutched in her hand.

"You awful awful woman. I love him. I love him."

"Your envelope Miss Hortense has been put under your door. Do not forget it."

"You're evil."

"You are wrong but also how sad you are my dear. How sad. Some thoughts are best unsaid. I don't suppose you will be foolish enough to try any tricks. I leave in half an hour.

And you may stay till it is time for your train."

Miss Hortense pulled open the salon door as Balthazar stepped quietly back against the wall. He followed her along the hall to her room. She said you mustn't come in. And he went to the bath, and came back and came in. Her case packed and open on her bed.

"Balthazar you shouldn't have listened. That was a mean thing to do."

"Bella you said you wanted to marry me.' "Yes. But it wasn't for you to hear."

"Why.' "Because we could never marry. O God I'm going out of my mind."

"I have a cold cloth here for your eyes."

"You're sweet. I don't mean to be angry at you. But your mother thinks I've corrupted you. That I want to get you in my clutches. Get your money and get your life. That's what she thinks. Maybe it's true. But I love you too."

"Bella, don't be sad and cry."

"I want to leave and go right away now."

"Please wait till it's time for your train."

"No."

"Then I shall get dressed and go with you."

"No."

"Yes. I should be at your side. And please do not wear your hat and cover up your hair."

Miss Hortense stood, her knees against the blue linen counterpane. Her hands hang down and the veins are long and swollen blue. Her lips are open and her eyelids hang gently down. Where under lurk her eyes with just their touch of laughter left in their gallant green. And she takes off her hat.