Chapter 4

The Countess believed in two eyes for any eye, and besides this, no witnesses to her shamelessness -no stupid, drunken sots to boast of screwing her highness.

The awful loss of the group of lowly born but physically and carnally useful males was a deep blow to their betrayed families.

The Duke himself bemoaned the loss of so many of his serfs, all strong and active men, and many were the imprecations he levelled against the poisonous wine and the intemperate habits of the peasants. No manner of doubt ever insinuated itself into the minds of the population as to the cause of the disaster. Had not the farmers been accustomed to assemble there in the tavern of Pierre to gassip and gamble and drink together? And of course it was quite plain that for their better security from any sudden intrusion of the part of the local gendarmie, or superintendent of Police, they had locked the door. This was quite evident for had not the key been found, heated almost out of recognition, among the ashes inside? Then they had got too drunk to take care of themselves, and the large fire they had lighted had no doubt communicated itself to the flooring, and before the intoxicated wretches could find the key, -if ever they had had time to look for it, -the while of the tavern was in a blaze. This explanation was so apparent to every one, that there rested on the subject no other means of solution. The truth was fated to slumber unknown for years and years; until that generation, and the next, and the next again, had passed away, had only as a matter of historical and literary interest, it, at last, from amid a dusty pile of state papers, tardily made itself known to a select few.

For some days the guilty Countess and her maid remained very quiet, prudently watching the course of events, until they saw that no suspicion of any crime existed. Meanwhile Marie, although caring little for the fate of her incestuous brother, felt a load of remorse weigh heavily upon her, and it required a large amount of persuasion on the part of her mistress to reassure her waiting-woman.

Time, however, works wonders, and among its other benefits, it confers gradually a certain amount of confidence, even under the most trying circumstances. To both the culprits, therefore, time brought a renewal of their usual occupations, save that the Countess records the fact that she missed the gratifications previously received in the arms of her peasant lover. That his fate was well deserved, neither Countess nor maid ever doubted, and it will be patent to all that he was at best a fool.

We have seen that the heroine of these pages was by now means an ordinary woman. To her glorious beauties of person, she added a powerful will, and an amount of determination which would have been more easily recognized in the opposite sex. Brought up to know no law but the will of her parent, and later on establishing, unrestricted by his control, an independence of her own, her whole tone of thought and feeling freed itself from the common level of the female mind. Freedom from restraint expanded her daring inclinations, and her escapades brought with them the conviction that she must safeguard herself from their consequences. A wonderful amount of selfreliance was thus established in the Countess Marguerite, and the simple intelligence of the waitingmaid leant on the powerful organisation of her mistress with a submission perfectly child-like.

The untoward consequences of her love affair, if such it could be called, with the brutal and treacherous Jean, made the young Countess more cautious in her conduct: not that she in any way reformed her life, -quite the contrary, -but it proved to her now necessary it was to protect herself in the future from any such contretemps.

Fortunately for her, an entertainment on a gigantic scale had been arranged to take place at the Palace of the Governor, her father. The festivities were to last a whole week, guests had been invited from all parts of the Province, each day a plan for their amusement had been selected, and hunting, skating, etc., were of course to form a chief part of the distractions. Each night was to witness a grand ball, and as the visitors numbered over two hundred, it is not difficult to imagine the brilliancy of the assembly, composed, as it necessarily was, of all the elite of the Province under the domination of the Duke De La Villiers.

As the festive period approached, no pains were spared to render the gorgeous entertainment worthy of so rich and distinguished a Governor. The Countess, idolized by her father, had ransacked Paris for costumes and modes. The day at length arrived, and with it the guests, and behold our Heroine, a blaze of such beauty and enchantment as was not often to be found even in that court of handsome women and gallant cavaliers.

The Countess Marguerite was indeed superbly beautiful, and as they gazed, even the women admitted she was striking. Arrayed in a lovely ball dress of rich, white satin over which fell a graceful arrangement of tulle and lace, her lovely neck, shoulders and arms bare, she was the admiration of all the men and the envy of all the women. Pressed on every side with solicitations to dance, she had not much leisure to pause, but the exercise, of which she was passionately fond, heated her blood and inflamed her vague desires. At length the music ceased for a few moments, and Marguerite, hastily taking advantage of it, slipped out of the ball room and along the corridor to a remote corner for a moment's respite, and for her sensuality to calm down, her under-drawers being wetted at the crotch due to the tittilating desires of her love tunnel, emitting sexual moisture.

In rapidly passing through the passages, closed to the guests but well known to herself, the Couness, heated from the waltz and still half out of breath from the exercise, stumbled against one of the Pages, a favorite of her own. This lad, only eighteen years of age, had conceived a violent passion for his young mistess, of which she was perfectly well aware, but had hitherto given him only the encouragement of a smile. At the collision which now took place, the youth, after recovering himself from the somewhat rude shock, could not do less than beg a thousand pardons for his negligence, all which the Countess graciously received.

"Silly boy, be not so frightened, you have not hurt me, and you know it was an accident," said she, giving the lad a kindly glance of her bright eye, which he had not the experience to fathom.

"Give me your hand, there! now we can pass on together and avoid all further accidents."

The place was silent, removed from all the din of the festivities. She placed her soft, gloved hand within his palm and let him lead her on.

The young Page, a handsome boy of gentle manners and birth, showed evident symptoms of embarrassment. This was the first time the little hand he had so often admired and dreamed of had touched his own, and he trembled in all his body at the sensation as her delicate touch thrilled through him, causing his masculinity to become excited to a hardon which he had trouble hiding from his lovely desire. Nevertheless he led her on through the sombre passages to a point where there was a stove and some plants set in gigantic pots, affording a pleasant verdure, relieving the glaring prospect of snow through the well-fitting windows.

Standing there, negligently waving her fan to cool her heated neck and face, the Countess, her left hand still reposing in that of the Page, turned on him her bright eyes as if to read him through and through. Whatever she found as the result of her scrutiny, she appeared satisfied, for a smile beamed across her sweet features.

"How dark it is here, Roland! I fear they will wonder where I am, and perhaps I shall catch cold. How warm your hand is! -you tremble! -my poor boy, what is the matter?"

"I hardly know, Countess, I feel -I know not what, but oh! I am so happy!"

"Does that make you happy, Roland, to touch my hand? Why, your happiness is easily bought, is it not? I am pleased to be able to give you so much happiness so cheaply; see it costs me nothing," and with a merry laugh she pushed her exquisitely gloved hand well within his own warm palm and actually squeezed his fingers in so doing.

Roland shivered with a sudden sensation of enjoyment too exquisite for words. He bent his head until his lips touched the little hand and imprinted a fervent kiss on the soft glove.

"My poor boy," murmured the Countess, "you suffer and you say nothing. Tell me, am I the reason?"

The boy looked up; his eyes caught hers, his large, blue orbs filled with tears, his lips quivered, but no word passed. Marguerite saw and understood it at a glance.

"I love to give joy, not pain, Roland; you must not be so very sad. Why should you not be gay and happy? See," she cried, pressing her lace kerchief into the front of his open vest, "I will lend you that to wear for me until I call for it, and then I expect it brought to me, -even if it were at the other end of France."

"At the end of the world, Madamoiselle," stammered the handsome boy; and before he could say more, the Countess patting him kindly on the cheek, turned on her feet and fled back towards the ball room alone.

The balls in those days were not conducted with all the propriety and decorum which is practised now. King Louis had found it very necessary to formulate rules and regulations to control the wild license of his court and dependents. A copy of these may yet be seen on the walls of Versailles, where King Louis held his famous soirees.

"No visitor," said one of the rules, "shall be allowed to get drunk before midnight."

"No one, from any cause or consideration whatever, shall strike a lady, under pain of expulsion."

If such were among the regulations prepared by the King himself, we can but faintly conceive the utter disregard which was accorded to the true polite usages of society, such as they are understood in these days.

The Countess Marguerite had not proceeded many yards on her way back, before she encountered in an alcove adjoining the passage, not far from the dancing hall itself, a couple of the guests. Their position was not even equivocal, they were reclining on a sofa, and were engaged in a combat of love so unrestrained that the lower parts of the lady were completely exposed, and her lover equally exposed, fully mounted upon her body, was engaged in administering the balm which nature provides under such circumstances

The Countess passed on unseen and aroused. At the entrance of the State Ball Room, she was claimed by her partner and was borne away in triumph to take part in the dance.

Towards the end of the evening's entertainment, Marguerite found herself again in her own apartments. She was at length free from the turmoil and the noise. Yet she had no thought of retiring at once. She sat before a blazing fire. The windows of the Duke's apartments opposite had long been dark and the lights in the Palace were gradually being extinguished.

"Marie, go and find Roland, the Page; and tell him to bring me my kerchief here, and at once, you understand? -no noise."

The maid knew perfectly what was expected of her. In less than ten minutes, the boy stood on the threshold.

"Where is my kerchief, Roland?"

"I have it here, Ma Contesse," and advancing he bowed reverently and handed to the Countess her delicate kerchief. Then finding she made no further sign, he turned to go.

The truth was that the young Noble lady had suddenly discovered that a mysterious feeling of physical attraction existed in her own heart towards this handsome young Page. She lost half her usual daring, a kind of an uneasy diffidence came over her, and she even feared a rebuff when she somewhat tardily turned and looked at him, and dropping her eyes, said:

"Stop. -I want to thank you for taking -for taking' -so great an -interest in me-."

Then she raised her glance, and for a moment their eyes met.

She was still in her ball-dress of white satin, even her long kid gloves were yet unremoved. Her neck and shoulders were displayed by the low decolette bodice in all their loveliness of youthful contour of her half exposed titties.

The boy looked confused, he saw that his cherished secret was discovered; he only awaited the contemptuous dismissal which he feared was the only recognition with which his passion could meet. The words, however, of the Countess were so gracious and her soft glance so full of pity and gentleness, that

Roland picked up courage and, casting a hasty glance over his shoulder only to find that the prudent Marie had disappeared, he threw himself at her feet, and covering his burning face with his hands, could only murmur a confession of his passion and an abject prayer for her pardon.

The young Countess thought she had never been so happy; a new and strange sensation stole over her: she loved. Yes, for the first time in her existence, with all her vicious tendencies, all her indulgencies gratified, her fierce passions assuaged, this woman surrendered to the universal emotion, and with all her heart, all her soul, poured forth the whole depth of her really affectionate nature and loved ardently, as she of all women could love, the handsome Page, Roland St. Yves.

Slowly, and as if a great trouble had been lifted from her breast, she extended her lovely arms, and with a soft, sweet emotion, hitherto unknown to her, she whispered:

" My darling! -I a lso lov e, -I love you."

The next moment the happy boy was clasped in her fond embraces, his flushed face lay between her snowy, breasts, her naked arms around his neck, her soft gloved fingers playing with his locks of golden hair and her beautiful head bending over him as he still knelt at her feet and furtively sought her kind eyes.

Neither ventured another word, but her head bent lower and lower until their hot lips met in a long, passionate kiss.

The Countess had lost her nerve for once, her usual audacity quite deserted her. Her vivacity fled, she trembled in every limb. Roland, on the contrary, who could only dream on in the sweet present, regained to some extent his confidence.

One sentiment, however, did not entirely forsake her, for she gradually tightened her embrace until she had drawn him, serpent like, towards her trembling body and he reclined on the luxurious sofa, their faces close together, and their fervent breathing exhaling in troubled sighs.

Marguerite felt a delicacy of desire stealing over her senses, to which she had hitherto been a stranger. She was well aware of his hot genitals throbbing through his trousers, pulsating against her belly.

There was nothing in this passion of the fierce energy of unrestrained indulgence. She was content to sit close pressed to the new found object of her love, nestled by his side, bathed in perfect enjoyment of loving and being loved, gazing in his eyes and basking in the passionate realization of a new and powerful emotion. For the first time in her young life, the Countess Marguerite really loved, and together with the acknowledgement of the delicious emotion, there was mingled something infinitely tender in the

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V sentiment with which she regarded the object.

But her voluptuous, impressionable nature could not long brook such a passive adoration. Her lascivious temperament soon began to exert itself. Her caresses grew more active, more adventurous.

Hardly for an instant quitting his red lips, save to press warm kisses on his forehead, cheeks and neck, she now ran her dainty hands about his body, squeezing, moulding his hands and arms, noting with delight the effect of her caresses, until at last, as if by accident, she allowed her hand to rest upon Roland's thigh. Then she drew him closer to herself, until breast pressed to breast, with sighs they mutely told their tale of passion.

Her furtive fingers closed, and between them bounded all the impetuous evidence of his vigour, the stiff, lewd symbol of the youth's precocious manhood. She squeezed his throbbing, young but sizeable cock through the cloth.

Neither spoke; their love was too deep for expression in words; their eyes alone betrayed the intensity of their emotions.

Roland had already opened the gown about the beautiful bosoms, throbbing with untold desire, naked and palpitating under his gentle pressures, her tits were delightful beneath his palms. Daring everything, with the wild impetuosity of youth, he advanced, unable to restrain his passion under the excitement to which her embraces entirely reduced him, and insinuated his wanton hand within her bodice. Marguerite only laughed at his hardy attempt, which, of course, encouraged him the more. Meanwhile, her own hand, which was still gloved, forcing all obstacles, stormed the citadel, and eye, at once possessed itself of the prisoner confined therein. The first impulse of the conqueror under such circumstances, is to show the magnanimity of his nature and to releave the captive. That which she discovered enchanted her, as with a low sigh of gratified triumph her trembling fingers closed upon the object of her pursuit, her shapely fingers discovered and cupped his bag.

The young Page had dreamed, in his fervid sleep of some such voluptuous happiness as now confronted him in a corporeal shape, but he had never dared to hope for so much indulgence in a waking state, with the connivance of the object of his hopeless affection, and he trembled with passionate desire as he submitted with an unknown feeling of delight to the fond toyings of his turgid pole. Sighs of rapture burst from his lips as her fluttering hand, active and audacious, produced delightful sensations new and exquisitely responsive to her touches. Already his turgid excitement was sufficiently manifest to one of less experience than the amorous Countess. By a sudden movement, she lifted the covering which interposed and stole a furtive glance at the very center of her ardent desires. What a contrast was there! The delicacy of the soft and perfumed kid covered fingers on one side, and on the other, what promise of enjoyment for her salacious nature!

Marguerite found it necessary to relieve the strain upon the emotions of herself and her young lover. She felt as if her heart would burst were not relief obtainable; extricating herself with difficulty from their close embrace therefore, she reluctantly arose and whispered to him to be patient for yet a little while.

"You shall not leave me thus, my darling boy, my own fond love, we will kiss again, you shall remain and be my Page indeed, -and learn how to unrobe your lady; -nay, how you blush! Do not fear I shall not try your skill too far: -Marie shall show you the mysteries of the art."

A touch of her silver bell brought the waiting-maid to her side.

Roland looked on in secret admiration while the process of fastening and removing the lovely costume of the young Countess was in progress. Piece by piece, but with several interludes of kissing and touching, the various portions of her outer clothing, were removed, and then by a deft movement of modesty his mistress disappeared a moment from his view, and in a twinkling of an eye, returned robed in a beautiful peignor, -her luxurious hair thrown loose and flowing far down her back, and her glance beaming with love and happiness.

"Do you love me less, Roland?" exclaimed the lovely girl, as with outstreched arms she invited the boy to embrace her.

The youth caught her in his arms and imprinted burning kisses on her fair lips.

"Stay a moment, my dear boy, pray, do not suppose you will escape so easily; we are now going to put you at your ease."

Then followed the undressing of the Page. Both women insisted in performing the operation themselves, until reduced to very scanty raiment, the lovely boy stood before them thankful to conceal his throbbing person and his blushes in a dressing gown of rich brocade which jutted outward from his middle due to the pulsating extension of his teenaged but oversized penis. His cock stuck outward from its roots like a rose-bush almost visible through the silken garment, where the head of his dong pushed the thin cloth, a moist spot appeared, a spot of lubrication from the head of his straining love-pole.

A powerful stove threw a genial warmth throughout the spacious apartments, sumptuously furnished with choicest bric-a-brac collected from time to time by the Duke himself in his far travels. But Roland had no eyes for anything but the lovely girl before him, radiant in her splendour of form, and seductive above all in her youthful grace and dignity, and the two females had eyes only for the jutting extension of his rod.

Hand in hand they passed into the bed chamber of the Countess. Then with a warm glow of love upon her flushed face, she finally drew the boy towards her, and Marie receiving the peignor as it fell, the beautiful figure of the young girl appeared clad only in her night dress, while the maid, equal to the occasion, rapidly removed this gown and substituted a gauzy chemise.

Beneath the heavy hangings of rich, pale blue satin, the soft couch was invitingly prepared with downy pillows and the whitest of linen.

Roland needed no further prompting; with eager arms he lifted the beautiful Countess off her feet, and, forgetting all his bashfulness, plunged her into the midst of the yielding couch. A laughing remonstrance was lost upon his tingling senses, and the next moment, enlaced in each other's tight embrace, they lay, those young and eager lovers, beneath the warm coverlet which the thoughtfulness of the waiting-maid had arranged for them.

At first the full sense of possession so overcame the Countess that she was content to lie, softly yielding kiss for kiss with her young lover. Their naked bodies closely pressed together, they thus remained while the glow of the expectant pleasure spread throughout

Let the Countess tell her own tale:

"An infinite glow of luxurious feeling crept over me; at first I thought I was going to faint. Roland, the darling boy, was in my arms; with all my daintiest art I lavished fond caresses upon him. My hands moved delicately all over his warm, soft flesh. Once again I encountered his prick: it was strong throbbing and swollen with the lascivious emotions I induced. His balls were well developed and swelling, betrayed his seminal vigour. The boy was beautiful from head to foot. His cock, I thought the most charming I had yet experienced. How different this soft, languishing union from the rough and brutal penile satisfaction of my senses with the peasants! How far preferable to hear the gentle words of love and affection, to exchange the warm kisses of sweet rapture, than to be subjected to the onslaught of such rude and furious lust, to be torn and wounded by the huge efforts of their bull-pricks! Roland, not quite a novice, understood well enough how to make love. He mounted on my body almost immediately, he wanted little showing, he struck his pecker in my cunny and we heaved together in the rapturous ecstasies of a first hump. How I loved this boy, how I idolized the lovely flatterer, who now lay entwined with me, his young cock sinking deeper at each fervid thrust into my melting cunny, revelling in an agony of enjoyment

Roland was no mean champion.Without pretending to the gigantic proportions of the peasants, he possessed a large and vigorous prick. His pleasures were frequent and intense, and his gratitude for my favours was freely and prettily expressed and as he lay on top of my open pussied body, his cock filling my tunnel with hot come-juice, with Marie's eager avid eyes taking it all in, even helping by stroking the darling boy's smooth ass, then parting his thighs and tongue-lashing his anus and dangling balls which were parked just outside my cunny-lips. Thus the night passed in thrills unspeakable. I had found the gratification of my passion so absorbing that I let the young lover take his own course, and never tired of love's simplest wooing, he effectually banished sleep until a late hour of the morning.

We parted reluctantly with many vows of love and constancy, and promised ourselves another and a longer night of bliss.

Ah! My heart! -had I stopped here! -It is only a week since I commenced to indite these notes concerning my new-born and passionate attachment, yet in that short time, how my ideal has been profaned, the sacred deity of my adoration thrown down, levelled with the dust and desecrated! -my heart left bare and barren for wolves to fatten on!"

It was thus the Countess wrote of herself at this period, and we shall see how near the sad words came to the truth.

There appears to have been two further meetings between the lovers, closely following the commencement of their intimacy. The exigencies of the guests, and the necessary precautions to avoid scandal, prevented Marguerite from giving the reins to her passion as she desired, and it was not until the third night after the one above noted, that the handsome, young Page was again cautiously introduced by Marie.

Much of the boy's bashfulness had now worn off. The mutual enjoyments passed together with his beloved mistress had inured him to the mystic processes of love, and his own passions, let loose, dominated a temperament naturally amorous. Libertine by instinct, Roland required but little training in the paths of sexual pleasure.

There were therefore no coy preliminaries to be gone through. The happy pair were soon stripped entirely naked, and rushed upon the bed to revel in each other's embraces. Roland was in ecstasies, and his ardor was visibly clear by the erection of his teenaged cock, the standard of his vigour erecting itself with astonishing rigidity and thickness, in all its pulsating, scarlet glory.

"Why, my darling, what a monster!" exclaimed the Countess, inspecting in every part her new and charming acquisition. "I had no idea you could be furnished like that!" and she set herself to kiss and titillate his erected cock and balls.

Roland was not slow to follow her example; his eager lips sought her garden of Venus and his tongue lapped her excitement juices. He parted the not unwilling thighs widely and thrusting his face fully in between, sought at the fountain head the perfection of his lascivious fancies, and she orgasmed, drenching his darling tongue.

A bound of convulsive pleasure, caused the bed to rock, as the Countess, delighted with the aptness of her $protege, yielded to the delicious incentive of his kisses, implanted in a gap so sensitive. Then replying in kind to his endearments, she made her own lips do the office more usually assigned to another part of her body. Her mouth closed about the acorn head of his pulsating shaft and her tongue tittilated the glistening head until the shiny purple knob secreted a drop of lubricating fluid which she eagerly licked up. Thus they lay, speechless and busy by reason of their mutual occupation, their bodies heaving, interwoven in a fast embrace, with humid eyes, and convulsed hands clutching, seizing, only to loosen and clutch anew at some fresh charm, until with a gurgling cry of ecstasy, Roland felt his soul run out of him in a torrent of flame, at the same moment as the energetic pressures of the girl announced her own delirium. They both discharged simultaneously into each others mouths, an ejaculative shower of come juices, the fruits of their ardent, if deviate endeavors.

Both lay bathed in the sweet exhaustion which succeeds to sensuous pleasures. Marguerite, gluttonous of delight, had received with intense enjoyment the spermy evidences of the boy's ecstasy into her mouth, amply filling that orfice with a hot shower of slimy love-juices and Roland's vigorous appetite for pleasure had been as yet only whetted by these soft preliminaries, as his lips sucked deeply the musky results of her liquid orgasm.

After a few minutes repose, their lips humid and wet with their mutual joys, pressed together in fervent union, intermingling the varied fluid releases. The wandering hand of the Countess sought anew the champion of her pleasures, and Roland, springing to arms, at the salacious call, spread himself on the legparted body of his mistress.

The Countess received him with all the ardour of a young and impassioned nature; quickly adjusting himself to the position, she was penetrated to the quick by his smoking, slickly covered prick. The handsome Page, feeling with sensations of voluptuous delight the conjunction of his shaft with her wet-hot pussy, exerted himself so well, that, goaded to the extremity of enjoyment, Marguerite gave vent to cries of rapture, and once more their souls mingled in a climax of intoxicating fluid joys. Thus the night sped on, and Marie, ever alert, at last came to warn them of the hour of separation.

The festivities at the Palace of the Duke De La Villiers came to an end, and the last of the guests departed; the fame of these magnificent entertainments had gone forth far and wide, and had served to increase the influence of the Duke and further to ingratiate him in the good opinion of the people. But the effort had cost him dear, the anxiety and the worry of entertaining so vast an assemblage had done what years of the burden of judicial dignity had failed to accomplish. The health of the Dule gave way. A fatal weakness of the heart declared itself, and from grave anxiety there grew the certainty that life was ebbing fast.

Within the week of the end of the festivities, the Duke De La Villiers lay a corpse in his own Palace, his only child stunned by the suddeness of the bereavement.

Then followed a long investigation into affairs and testamentary dispositions; after about a month of careful sorting, docketing and compiling of accounts, the Countess woke up one morning to find herself one of the richest women of the French Nobility, and her own mistress, being of full age according to the French law.

These important events had naturally put a stop for the time to any thought for her own pleasures, and the Countess, occupied with the cares of mourning and the ceremonies thereunto appertaining, found neither opportunity, nor inducement for the indulgence of her former extravagances. She had however, maintained a secret correspondence with the Page Roland, and only awaited a fitting time to renew her clandestine sexual unions.

Much of her time was now devoted to the consideration of her father's late affairs, and she undertook with brilliant success the sorting and arranging of his private papers. Among these she found some which threw a vivid light on his past life and amours. It seemed that the Duke had relations with a lady of the Province, whom he had seduced, and who had borne him a son. There were the letters of the lady herself, full of confident affection, of hope, of patience, for the Duke had long been a widower, and it was highly probably he might marry again. Whatever may have been his views in this respect, they were doomed to disappointment; the lady herself, whose name for many reasons we suppress, died, leaving her young son to the care of her seducer.

So far the Countess had read the correspondence with a certain amount of indifference; such liaisons were too common to excite much emotion in her mind. But at length a passage in one of these epistles struck her, -she read again: -she sought further, made inquiries and confirmed the suspicion which had crossed her mind. The lady had gone through the ceremony of marriage with the Duke; the fact was proved to her secret conviction, and therefore the child was legitimate. To him belonged the right to the vast dominions and domains, the thousand and odd peasants, the Palaces and Chateaus which stood in her name.

The Countess Marguerite was not the woman to abandon so momentous a question without endeavouring by every means in her power to make herself financially secure. She therefore carefully concealed all evidence of her discovery, and at once instituted a search for the child whose existence might be of so much consequence to herself.

In a very short time, having conducted the investigation personally and in secret, Marguerite arrived at the truth; what that was, we shall see presently. The first effects of her discovery were to overwhelm her with confusion. She saw the vast possessions of her father trembling in the balance between herself and this new found brother, of whose very existence she had previously no idea, and returning in haste to her own apartments, she shut herself up therein, refusing to be disturbed.

Then a message was dispatched in hot haste to the Major Domo, desiring him to send off to Paris the Page Roland, in charge of a packet of dispatches which the Countess prepared and sent him with her own hand.

Let us see what she says herself:

"I sent down the letters enclosed in a packet addressed to the custodian of our residence in Paris. I desired that the Page Roland might be sent with them at once. In reply to the inquiry whether I would see him and inform him more particularly myself, I sent a message to the effect that if the Major Domo did not feel himself equal to the duties I required of him, he could resign at once. I heard no further objections.

Then I sat myself down and wept; -bitter tears of outraged love, of hopeless, unfathomable passion, of injured dignity, -of despair, pure and simple, burst from me. I wrung my hands and swayed backwards and forwards with the intensity of my emotion.

How long this mood lasted, I know not. At last I rose, I paced my solitary apartments by the hour together, then slowly a resolution shaped itself out of the clouds of despair, of doubt and uncertainty, which oppressed me. Gradually, out of the mist, arose a gigantic fabric of visionary beatitude. I would live still as the Sovereign I had been before my great discovery. Love had guided me blindfold, by Love I would still be governed; my life should be given to his service and in my person he should find a willing votary. I rang my bell.

"Had Roland departed?" I demanded.

Marie did not know, she would find out. In less than ten minutes she returned. The coach was in the entrance court. The boy was prepared for his long and arduous journey. The escort had already mounted.

"Send him here."

I paced up and down my room, -my little boudoir. I saw again in my memory our first meeting, our caresses, I felt anew his warm, sweet breath on my cheek, I held him again in imagination in my arms; his dainty form, his robust proportions, his hot, lascivious kisses were all once more in my mind. Ah! never, -never -again to be, -and yet, the struggle was killing me; -creature of flame, I was about to perish, Phoenix-like, in the blaze of my own passion. I threw myself on my fauteuil, I buried my face in my hands. "Ah! darling! my darling! my Roland!"

The door slowly opened. Roland stood before me, wrapped in a heavy furred, travelling cloak, cap in hand and booted for the road. I instinctively knew it was he. Then the door closed; we were alone. His sweet, low voice responded to my call; -all calmness, -all propriety.

"High Excellency, I am here!"

There was something inexpressibly touching to me in this resignation. I knew it could not be otherwise than most distasteful to him to have to do, -to leave me on so long, so distant and so perilous a journey. It might well have been that he would have blamed me for requiring it of him, for not having selected some other of my many dependents for the accomplishment of so arduous an undertaking. But no; Roland met my nervous glance with downcast eyes; the embodification of respect and of obedience.

And how I loved him! -Oh, my heart!

Timidly as I gazed at him, there came a feeling of exquisite tenderness over my weakened senses. I rose and stood upright; slowly my steps led me towards my sweet, young lover. I stretched out my arms to meet his. I folded him to my heart, and in one long, babbling kiss my senses left me.

When I returned to consciousness, I found Marie bending over me. I inquired for Roland; he awaited my orders in the ante-chamber. Faintly I directed her to delay his departure to the morrow. Then, fatigued with the excess of my emotions, I resigned myself to sleep.

That night, by my orders I had issued, the Page Roland was secretly brought to my apartments as before. I was already in bed. Marie admitted him, clad only in the silken garment she had provided him, she led him to my side. She opened the warm coverlet, he slipped between. My darling was in my arms. His passion knew no bounds. Pressed by material desires for immediate satisfaction, his hands roved over my intimate parts and sought my inmost sexual treasures. My hand seized his hot vigorous prick, bursting with luxury in my eager grasp. No thought of prudence stayed my hand. I squeezed, I tickled, and then fearing, the premature explosion which my movements threatened to excite, I voluptuously sought and guided his bursting organ into the humid pussy of our joys. It entered, aided by my profuse lustlubrication -I received its whole throbbing length with diabolical emotion. He pierced me to my core, my womb throbbed in the possession of his swollen, burning cock. His fierce thrusts pierced me to the quick. Harder, faster grew his movements, more rigid and stiffer his delicious cock. Our bodies connected by this sweet carnal link, we writhed together continually in the enjoyments of the senses. Buried in my vaginal hole to the full extent of his length, one moment, half-withdrawn the next, Ifelthim about to exhale the hot and pent up fluids of his lust. With groans of delicious poignancy, too powerful for verbal expression, his hot load shot out in torrents of liquid rapture, and loaded my quivering womb, while, as it spurted in rapid jets from his vigorous loins, my ecstasy broke into a single cry, but in words he had never heard, as my own release intermingled with his fiery volcanic release. Our combined love juices drowned his jerking, throbbing cock and the taut vulval tunnel it so adequately filled. In fact, our intermingled come juices trickled out of my spasming cunt and drenched his throbbing, emptying ballocks that were trying to part my pussy lips and join his urgent prick inside. The warm trickle of his and my orgasmic release ran down his ball-sac and down my thighs. It was a fitting and meaningful farewell.