The Love Child

“What purpose would it serve?”

“It would please me, which is the sole purpose of this occasion, is it not?”

“I was not told of this. It was not in the bargain.”

“You were told that you must do as I ask. I am rendering you a great service. It is not easy at a time like this to snatch a man from the hangman’s rope.”

“I must go.”

“Very well. I shall make no effort to detain you. Shall I ring for the woman? She will give you your clothes and I’ll send the carriage back with you to the inn.”

He was watching me sardonically.

“My poor Priscilla! In two days’ time it will be over. You can return to your home … fatherless but virtue retained. You see, I make no effort to hold you. There shall be no force, although in your present vulnerable position that would be easy.

No. I have promised myself, She shall come of her own free will. That is the bargain and we shall keep to it.”

“Where will you do this… drawing?”

“I will show you.”

There was yet another room leading from the picture gallery. This was small. There was a couch on it covered with black velvet.

“The contrast of the blackness of the velvet and the colour of the skin is delightful,” he said. “Now. Your cloak, my dear.”

He took it from me and studied me with glinting eyes. I thought he was going to seize me then, but he restrained himself. He just let his hands slide over my body and taking a deep breath said: “Later. This first.”

He made me lie on the couch and put me in the required pose, which I found loathsome.

There was an easel at the end of the room.

It was like something out of an impossibly wild dream-myself lying naked on a couch and this strange man, who I was sure was mad, sitting there in the flickering candlelight sketching me.

I wondered what else the night would bring forth.

Whatever it is, I said to myself, I must endure it. Was it true that my father had already heen removed from the terrible prison which he would have shared with many others? Had I succeeded even so far in bringing him a little comfort? I could not let a chance of saving my father pass by. I kept telling myself that it was going to succeed.

I heard him speaking. “It is a rough sketch only. I will complete it later. Then we shall know each other more intimately. That is important to the artist.”

I did not look at the sketch. I did not want to see it and he did not offer to show me.

“Now we shall sup,” he said. “It will be ready for us now. You must be hungry.”

“I never felt less hungry.”

“You must not allow the anticipation to spoil your appetite.”

I put on my cloak and we went back to his bedroom. There was a small fire in his bedroom although it was summer. I stared blankly at the blue flames. Several candles had been lighted, and a table set up. Food was set out most tastefully and there was a flask of wine.

He indicated that I should sit down opposite him.

“This is a great occasion for me,” he said. “I have never forgotten you, you know.

You looked so young, so innocent, there in St. Mark’s Square … so different from the women one meets so frequently in such places. When I saw you in the shop I had a great desire to be your lover.”

“Should that be marvelled at? Has not such a thought occurred to you a thousand times with a thousand women?”

“I admit that I have a fondness for your sex and I have always had a partiality for the virginal. The young are so appealing. There is an urge in us all to instruct, and if we are skilful at some art, that urge is greater. I have loved women from the time I was ten years old, when I was seduced by one of my family’s servants.

I had discovered my metier in life.”

“To be seduced?” I asked.

“You could call it that. But I have become such a master at the art of making love that I have ceased to become the pupil and have taken on the role of tutor.”

“And seducer?”

“When it is necessary. But a man of charm is somewhat sought after, as you can imagine.”

“It is difficult for me to imagine, for no such urge would ever come to me as far as you are concerned.”

“I see I shall be on my mettle. Who knows, you may fall hi love with me, and it will not be I who offers rewards for your company, but you for mine.”

“That is completely impossible.”

“Who shall say? This is not quite what you expected, is it?”

“No.”

“You thought I should seize you, debauch you, and that would be all that was asked.”

I was silent.

“But I am a man of cultured tastes,” he went on. “You and I shall share this bed throughout this blessed night, but our encounter shall be one of refinement.”

“Please,” I replied, “if you are a man of refinement and culture, let me go. Show your gallantry, your courtesy, your perfect manners by behaving like a gentleman and generously give me my father’s life and ask nothing in return.”

He stood up and began to pace the floor.

Wild hope surged up in me. I thought: He is strange. Perhaps he is mad. Could it really be that I had touched a softer side of his nature?