Rite of Love

After Balthazar's father died his mother moved from the big house off Avenue Foch to a sprawling apartment overlooking the gardens of the Palais Royal. Miss Hortense the English governess with her tall flowing gay willing way came each Christmas. Easter and summer holiday. Taking Balthazar back and forth to Paris from the green zar back and forth to Paris from the green low hills of England and the echoing classrooms of school. While his mother went hither and thither to Baden Baden, Liechtenstein and Biarritz, to one for a cure, to the next for taxes and to the last to swim.

And this summer now hot and dry. A white dust rising to whiten leaves in the Tuileries. Balthazar's mother asleep till late afternoons. At nights to dinners and balls and weekends away from Gare St. Lazare to the country. A Czechoslovakian woman came to cook and a Russian to clean. They had their lunch in the big kitchen with the high walls hung with pots and pans.

Mornings Miss Hortense would sit doing the English paper crossword puzzle and play dominoes between the plates with Balthazar. And in the warm cool at night, hand in hand they sat on the balcony above the garden. The shadowy stone urns with upturned 17 spears, and four fish hook prongs to keep out intruders. And one year ago Miss Hortense said I think it's time you called me Bella.

Each day to laugh down the steps and out across the gardens. To sit a while where the solemn little children played under the thick chestnut trees. Or watch the marionettes in the Tuileries. And the favorite hours to quietly read away an afternoon on the sentinel pale green chairs. Miss Hortense to be seated with her pillow, her elegant long legs crossed in the hot sunshine. By a bed of pink roses while the sparrows pecked and scratched and bathed.

The mornings at dawn Balthazar heard the keeper open the gates. And sometimes alone and dressed, Bella asleep, to go down and skin along the brown and black tiles of the arcade and pirouette on each four leaved shamrock. Bella said it was good for Irish luck. Then pause to read the garden rules which said no writing on the walls, no sound instruments and no games which can bring trouble to the tranquillity of the pedestrian.

And on this soft summer Saturday night. As Balthazar and Bella walked hand in hand past the black fence bars topped with golden spears. By the stamp shop and where the old strange watches stood in the window with colored pictures on their faces. And near to me was Bella. The close up of her gray eyes was green. And her breath as sweet as roses. When she told her secrets in wide eyed words. And whispered dreams. And laughed when she lost at chess.

"Balthazar."

"Yes my Bella."

"What."

"I am going away."

"Where. What do you mean."

"I am going away from you."

"Why."

"It is too complicated to explain."

"Has my mother told you to."

No not yet."

"Then why. Don't you enjoy coming to Paris anymore."

"Yes."

"Then why."

"Because this is all very foolish."

"What is foolish."

"You are growing up. You're getting tall. A full inch above my shoulder last year. And now, see. You come right to the top of my ear. When first we met you were only up to here. Soon you will be thirteen. You don't need me anymore."

"That's rather an unlortunate thing for you to say Bella. I don't understand why you've chosen to discuss this at all."

"Because it is ruining my life coming here three times a year."

Passing the windows of the red carpeted theater. And into the peristyle courtyard. Crossing between the stone pillars, they stood near the restaurant with the golden walls and carved and painted ceilings and the mirror you could look up at from the courtyard and see down from the restaurant ceiling on to tables where customers were leisurely lavishly eating. To see now this moment a gentleman's hand with gold rings, his fingers opening and closing upon a glass stem which he raised to swirl a wine beneath his nose. On the restaurant window it said Sherry Goblers and Lemon Squash. Miss Hortense took a deep breath and raised her eyebrows and bent forward as she walked.

"Bella, I did not know I was ruining your life."

"It was unfair of me to say."

"You told me it was nice these holidays like this. And you could give all the gentlemen about Kensington a merry dance. And you had your nice little change of situations."

"O God what a mess. Don't you see I love you. And you are far too old to be loved like that."

A strange shiver comes upon the back of the head and goes down the spine and lingers between the legs. The sound of our slow feet passing over the waves worn in the tiles. The lace shop. Rooms alight behind curved shiny windows above under the roof of the arcade. And through all the black muddy months there loomed her middle parted brown long hair. And how she bent each thumb backward on her wrist and could spin her skirt high up over her knees and always forgot to castle her king.

To come now through to the empty street and back to the little bell and great dark green enamel door. Climbing up these stairs. The incense smelling vestibule.

"Bella I am lond of you too."

"Don't you see that is the trouble."

Feeling a tender trembling and shaking. Her summer tanned back and the cool brown across her shoulders. The white skin under the straps of her light blue summer frock. My breath seems pushing up against the back of my eyes.

Miss Hortense swept into the salon and went quickly from table to table to turn on all the blazing lights.

"Why have you done that, Bella."

"I don't know. I think it's as well. Your mother is away. There's no one here the whole weekend. I've turned on the lights that's all."

"You're awfully upset."

"The fact of the matter is I'm twenty four and should be married."

But every man will have you."

"That does not mean I want one of them. There's little to choose between a cunning solicitor and a rich dunce. except my choice would be neither of them."

"If you marry the cunning solicitor he's sure to be very rich one day."

"And his heart and soul completely poor."

"But Bella you said yourself that only money matters, and for a woman it's better even to have her own."

"Yes, I said that and it's true. I'll be cured next week when I buy a new hat."

"Shall we play chess."

"I don't feel like it tonight."

"It is not too late to go to the theater."

"No."

"Do you want me to go away and leave you alone."

"For heaven's sake no."

"I am awfully sorry that I have made you so unhappy."

Miss Hortense against the edge of the high gray marble table where she put back her arms and pressed the heels of her hands. And her fingers whitening a they tightened around the cold hard stone.

"O God it's crazy. It's crazy. In fact it's far too funny. Here I am. good Lord, in love with a twelve year old boy."

Miss Hortense turned from where she leaned and slowly rolled herself over the arm rest and fell deep into the green brocaded sofa of elder down. This still night the end of June. Faint horns honking along Rue St. Honoré and the memory of an afternoon three years ago when I went down into the Métro of the Palais Royal, past the blue smocked woman at a desk with her plateful of centimes and stood to wee wee elbow high to a nearby man. Upon whose gleaming patent leather shoe I peed. And he reared backward stamping his foot, his own pee crazily sprinkling his trousers and tiled floor. I quickly buttoned up and ran. Out past and phalaux of dark brown cubicles and up into the street into Miss Hortense's arms. And when she asked what did you do I said I peed on a man and there he is now with his black briefease shaking his umbrella. And Miss Hortense turned and smiled and made him a flutuering curtsy.

"Bella why do you say this when I have told you that I love you too."

'Balthazar it's not your fault. I can't expect you to understand. What could you ever know about women."

"I want to learn. I have read some most unseemly books."

God you're so sweet. And I mustn't say I could kiss you."

The tinkling 8:30 chime of the gold mantel clock. Miss Hortense's brown long legs shooting akimbo on the gleaming parquet. Her big toes upturned from her sandals. A great heaving sigh whispering out her lips.

"I don't like you staring at me like that Balthazar. Do you think you should go and find something to do."

"Why."

"Because I think it would be proper."

"Why."

"Don't ask me why."

(continued overleat)

"Then I will not go and find something to do."

"Don't."

"I won't."

"I don't care if you don't."

"And I don't care that you don't care that I don't."

"Then don't."

"I'm not."

"Then I am going to go and sew."

Miss Hortense standing. Her sandals making a flapping noise on the floor. Passing by Balthazar as he stood near the door. His blue jacket closed and his flannel trousers long and white. Miss Hortense went by the fruit basket on the dining table and snatched out a pear. The strong muscles in the backs of her legs. And the thin tapering ankle and tendon down into her heels. Her bedroom door closing. I tremble and my heart thumps. Tight and hot in my head above the eyes.

Balthazar turned off the lights of the salon. save one by the window and bookcase where he knelt and pulled volumes from the shelves. A faded green spine which faintly read The Neighborhood of Dublin. His father's large scrawled signature inside the cover. Tales Uncle Edouard told. Of the noble and splendid blood of the Celts flowing through our veins. After the battle of the Boyne our ancestor fled in the Flight of the Wild Geese from Ireland to France. They were brave men of unquenchable principle. And he was one brilliant fellow, a Royal Astronomer of Ireland. He knew much of ether and even electricity. And from this great house he watched by telescope out into the solar system. It was only because of the clouds that he did not get much chance to see the stars. Remember always you are of Irish kings as well as of France. and all Irishmen are kings but not all kings are Irishmen.

With four tomes under arm and Paris bells tolling II o'clock Balthazar passed along the dark hallway to his room. The dry creaking of the boards beneath the feet. Miss Hortense's door with a bright dot of keyhole. To pause to knock. And no. She may never like me anymore. And tomorrow we were going to go to Sévres. To see the porcelain in the museum. All our splendid days we wandered here and there. Along the banks and bookstalls of the Seine. In and out the alley darkened streets. Huchette, Suger. St. André des Arts. passing under gray peeling walls, buildings like full old bellies, buttons bursting and washerwomen's eyes staring sullenly down. Often they stopped at St. Germain des Prés for citron pressé and all the young gentlemen giggled at Miss Hortense's horsy elegant beauty. twitching their shoulders as they went by and laughing in their little groups to catch. Bella's cool gray green eye. She would rise up tall between the café tables. Her white beaded summer bag tucked neatly beneath a breast. And with the othe cool hand to throw her hair back upon her shoulder and putting aloft her head. the tiniest smile across her lips, she stepped out on the boulevard. her hips gently shifting to and fro. A grin on her face as a cry went up from the café table, long live mademoiselle so magnificently callipyge.

Balthazar bent an eye to the keyhole. A yellow light and golden drapes at the end of the room. To be shut out from all her warmth and love. Across the polished floor an Persian carpet hangs her light blue dressing gown from a chair. And a night three summers ago I awoke to rumbling thunder so stumble afeared out into the corridor. To say outside this door. Nannie, o dear I am most frightened. But not loud enough for her to hear. Too shy to knock and too shy to show my fear. And suddenly her door opened and lightning whitened her window and flashed behind her. Her body so long and slender and outlined against the light through her sleeping grown. She held me there and then said come, get into bed with me. put your head on my pillow and I will tell you why there is no need to be afraid. Because they are playing skittles in the sky and when they want to throw a ball. it's only that God puts on the lightning so that they can see. And then there's the big boom and the rain comes down to wash away all the mess. And in sleep I snuggled and clutched to her and dreamt I flew on a white horse up steps right into the sky and jumped over clouds and put my fingers into soft crushed berries and cream. And at morn to wake and see her brown long hair streaming across the pillow. As the triangle of sunlight rose up the green wall. And the clutch of deep dark small freckles on her back and I put a finger there to rub one away and she rolled over and smiled, her eyes so gaily alight and sparkling and she slowly withdrew one of her long long arms from under the covers and reached out and pushed me on the nose and said hey you, you must get out of here now.

"Balthazar. Is that you out there."

"Yes."

"What are you doing there."

"What can you see."

"Nothing."

"Come in then."

Balthazer turning down the handle on the door. Opening it into the soft light and blinking his eyes. Miss Hortense in her bed. The blue linen counterpane drawn to the bottom and up into the soft preach blanket stuck her knees and toes. The pillows piled high, a book clipped open by her elbow and shiny needle in her hand.

"Goodness Balthazar what are you doing with that awful pile of books."

"Reading."

"Sir down. Reading what."

"This one is about tunnels and railways. And this it's a book about Dublin. Have you ever been there."

"No. My father has, he was born in Belfast."

"What is that."

"That's a city in the north of Ireland. Where they march and beat great drum and say they are up to their knees in Catholic blood and up to their necks in slaughter."

"That's not awfully nice."

"No. It's not."

"Did he ever talk of Dublin."

"Yes he liked it there. And the pints of stout and chunks of cheese that he had in the mornings in a pub. He read Divinity at Trinity College. He said it was the happiest time of his life. And he always said, that there in Dublin, the sun shone in on our lives."

"Bella, you're not cross at me are you."

"No. Of course not, why should I be."

"I don't know. I feel awfully badly when I think you're cross with me. And I feel much worse that perhaps you might be going to go away."

"You're such a silly boy."

"You know I'm not silly."

"Yes I know you're not silly. I'm silly I suppose. And really you're old enough to know. That I am going to have to go. Aren't you. But it's not that I want to. It is nice to be with you. And we do like so many things together. And so you know don't you that it's not that I want to. And that it has been the happiest time of my whole life. That I've ever had. Don't hang your face down like that."

"I'm not."

"You are. Come sit over here on the bed."

Balthazar put his tomes on the floor. And crossed to Miss Hortense's bed. Where the light shone down on the white folded sheet and her slender arms sat in cushioned little white cloth valleys. She lifted up an embroidery frame. Its streaming blue and green and yellow threads.

"Do you think this is nice."

"It looks such a bore to do."

"After all my work that's what you say. Anyway this is what I want to tell you. That this is not good for either of us. Soon you will want to be with girls your won age. And God knows I ought to be putting a rope around some gentleman and tying his ankle to my stove. You see Balthazar when I'm not with you. Well I don't know what I'm going to say. Many men have asked me to marry. It may be me or my little money. They all seem to get to know rather too quickly for my liking that I have a small income. But each time something always goes wrong and either I hate them or they hate me."

(continued on page 98) Rite of Love (continued from page 90)

"I want to marry you."

"Balthazar."

"You mustn't laugh. You are only twelve years older."

"But your whole life, what you are going to do. where you are going to go."

"I think I am going to go to Dublin."

"Ah, that is something nice."

Miss Hortense's arm fell slowly and her hand touched Balthazar's blue serge sleeve. As she always did when she was pleased. reach out and touch me gently. With a closed mouth smile.

"And you know Bella how awfully rich I am. And when I am of age I can go where I want and you can come too."

"Yes."

"To go on big ships. To Africa and America. Will you wait for me to grow up. Will you please, Bella."

"That is the most wonderful proposal I have ever had."

"Will you then. Will you please. When I finish school before I go to college we could be married."

"You're so serious aren't you. And I will then be over thirty."

"I would not care."

"Yes you would. Your eye would be seeking out the young ladies."

"I would never want anyone else."

"Heavens. heavens. And what am I to do then from now till you become of age."

"Three times a year you would be here with me in Paris. We could go to Bucharest and from there to St. Petersburg. We could go to Dublin. And have cheese like your father did and the sun would shine in on us."

"You rascal. You are. You have more daring than on a trapeze. God how girls are going to waste their tears on you."

Balthazar slowly stood up from the bed. Miss Hortense laid her embroidery away at her side. Her dressing table with her ivory brush and mirror and comb. The crimson lining of her open pigskin writing case with envelopes blue and pink. A lone bottle of scent and toilet water. Where his mother's bath was shelved high with colognes and sweet essences of faint colors and perfumes in all their tall fat crystal bottles. To bend now to pick up these tomes.

"O Please don't go away like that."

"I will. Because at least I have told you of what is in my heart."

"Don't go away like this Balthazar."

"I am. Why should I not."

"No. Don't. Come back here."

Balthazar turned and laid the books on the chair. He walked back to the bed. And as his knees touched the edge. Bella's hand reached out and switched off the table light. And her hand felt and took his hand and she pulled him gently down. Her fingers up through the short hairs on the back of my head, and cool they touch in behind my ear. Tumbling down into her arms she whispers out O God come to me. Her kisses over my mouth. On the cheeks and eyes. Her tongue along the side of my neck and deep into my ringing ear. All the bells of Paris. And stormy choirs sing when it is not yet Mass or Sunday but her silky long slender arms. smooth wrists. and soft slim hands. She breathed her breath catching in her lungs. And I can hardly breathe at all. Her hard teeth as she bites into my mouth. Her hand at my throat to undo my tie. Pulling herself up out of the sheets. Hair strings of shadow hanging round her head. I watched in the gardens once her fingernails as she sat and scratched her thigh and they made big long white marks on her sunny skin. Distant fingers unbuttoning my shirt one by one. And close by lips kissing me upon the breasts. Bella tell me what to do. Nothing nothing. Just take off your clothes. And so strange to wonder. Of all these years of dreams. To reach one day in the laundry room to secretly touch her drying underthings more close to her than I ever hoped to be. And now lie side by side all along her body and feel it pressed to mine, like two bodies all of your own. One here and one you reach around. Bella is what we're doing love. Yes yes. Hurry tell me how. You'll see you'll see. And I see. Bella on top of my mind chewing a cashew nut. Bella what do I do. Nothing nothing now. Like that flush of jealous courage two days ago. Waiting for a seat on the back of the bus to Place du Pont Neuf. When the conductor pinched her on the bottom and Miss Hortense widened her eyes, squared her shoulders, raised her brows and parasol and said in English keep your hands to your-self you miserable little man and the conductor laughed and as they returned once more to alight. he reached to pinch again and her parasol came slashing down across his wrist. It was an unfriendly time. To reach and gouge out his grinning eyes. Or wait one day till I was big enough to slap his cheek and shake his molars. For now I touch. All of this most precious prize. Here from the top of her head to the tip of her big toes. Can I touch and put my hand running over you you're so smooth. Yes you can you can and come on top of me. Bella Bella it's coming out of me. It won't stop. All over you. O darling you mustn't mind. sweetest and dearest, let it come out over me. you must not mind. Bella tell me what did I do. It's all right now. It should have been inside you. Yes but it's all right. you mustn't mind. I know it means you'll never marry me. And I hope I haven't been vile.

Balthazar it's really all right. really it is. I feel all ashamed and all awful inside. You must tell me, Balthazar, tell me if you do. All around in me it's going very strange indeed, you're not a servant or a town girl in the street but if I've done this I can't be in love. O God what are you talking about. love is for everybody wherever it may be no matter what you are. You're so young you see, full of all those tall tales of all those little boys. It's not vile, it's not that at all, but what I'm doing to you is so wrong. Why do you say it's wrong. Because it's my duty to take care of you. But isn't this the best care there could be then. Balthazar you're asking such damn questions and knowing answers too damn fast. but nothing can be answered here. just lie now with your silly sad little face, and maybe a devil too, you know don't you that we should never do this again. If anyone found us I would be in an awful mess.

"But there's no one here but us. And if we never do it again you'll never teach me."

"You know enough already you little rabbit."

"What have you done with men Bella."

"And what have you done with girls Balthazar."

"Please Bella, what have you done."

"You mustn't ask me questions like that."

"I must know."

"Why must you know."

"Because if you did I may never speak to you again."

"O dear. Turn around your head. Come on. Turn around. You're quite spoiled you know. Look at me. Are you jealous. A little aren't you."

"I'm not discussing it. Do you do this. Without your clothes and be in bed with other men."

"And I'm not discussing it."

"If you've been like this with other men I will kill myself. With arsenic."

"O Lord."

"I will."

"Snuggle up close and comfy to me. Don't let me hear you say that again. Or I will be off to Bristol or something like that and go on a ship. To the south seas."

"Bella I love you so much. So awfully awfully much."

"There you mustn't cry. You really mustn't."

"And I never want you to go away for ever and ever."

"I'm here now. You crazy little rabbit. I'm here."

"If you don't stay with me I don't want to grow up at all."

"But you little rabbit you can't stop growing up. You'll know all sorts of girls. Through a whole bunch of years. Innocent and smiling ones who would (continued on page 187) Rite of love (continued from page 98) make you think butter would not melt in their mouths."

"I don't care, if there isn't you I don't want anybody. No one could ever take your place."

"O God."

"Are you cross."

"No no I'm not cross. Just cross eyed. How are you to understand. For months and months. I've wanted to just seize and hug you and hold you to me. And I knew. I knew this would happen. That we never should have been left alone. That all it needed was bumping into you at night in the hall or just the nosey moments in the evening when you get long faced when I tell you not to read my letters. And each time you sulked I had to do everything I could to stop myself hugging and kissing you. Don't you see how it's been for me. O but don't you get cross now."

"I'm not cross."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"O Balthazar. Don't you see. To you the world is just as you find it. Just as each day it's time to get up, to dress, to cat, to sleep. The trip to school. And to Paris. And here we kind of live in a little estate all of our own. Larking about in each other's hair. But the world is not like that. One day you'll see a creature without whom you think you cannot live. And she'll throw her arms up and spin about and raise her skirt on her legs. And you'll like what you see. And she'll look beautiful and flutter her eyes. Put rouge on her cheeks. And tell you nice little lies. and spueal when you feel her breast. And as she shrinks away she'll say come hither come thither and thazar. O God she'll get her bloody hands into your hair. And you'll marry her. And she will be up to her elbows rummaging in your fortune when she isn't skipping down the Faubourg St. Honoré. For soap and saddles and suits and rose bouquets."

"I hope when all the years have gone by. And I'm retired in my little country cottage somewhere in Devon. With all. I hope, my many emohunents. That you'll come and see me. And put your hat on a hook and a cane against the wall. You may even be tall and straight and gray. And bow as I sit in black and lace near my fire. With probably the same old embroidery frame. And you'll take up and kiss my hand. O God let me kiss you, kiss you. While you're still here here here."

The night hushed and still. Faint breeze out on the garden tree leaves. Paris cools in darkness. The slow slow sounds that transport over the city. A shout. And listen, a strange answer. Some nighttime philosopher advising himself. To avoid hunger perhaps and a treadmill day. Like the shadowy men standing inside the cathedral doors in all their silent poverty. Where do they go at night. And Bella said there they are on the benches and in winter they will lie on the Métro grating. To curl up in wait for another day. And the day Bella said let's, when I said why don't we go on a train. As we stood outside the building of the Légion d'Honneur as the sun shone down the Rue de Bellechasse. She made big eyes on the street and made me laugh. And said maybe we should take a picnic and never come back again. We two. Go in search of the holy grail. And we go. Don't we go. Into the great Gare d'Orsay. And I looked up at her flowing hair as all the eyes watched her trotting by. Searching wide eyed between the wondering citizens. Under the darkened glass roof and monstrous tiled walls. First stop St. Michel and through Gare d'Austerlitz. And when we got off the train at a town, any town. Brétigny. There were kids with a flag marching through the stret. Blowing bugles and workmen putting up colored lights for a fete. When it started to rain. Houses shutterred up. And curtains elsewhere twitching. As we walked hand in hand down the street. And Bella said no holy grail I'm sure will be found, we are Balthazar in a most uninviting town. Would we ever live here. Yes with you. With you I would too. And back on the train in a carriage with three. Of gentlemen. Who stood and turned and sat and sniffed as Bella crossed her legs. And they said ah we are well fixed. I have just come out of the hospital and I am very well placed, to live just far enough outside Paris where it is country and close enough too. Each of them their eyes dropping on Bella's knees and looking when they could at her face. And when they left the carriage and in the corridor, one said my God if I were a young man what I wouldn't give to do what I could do to that one, and I Monsieur would not need to be young to do what I would do to that one. And we came back through the station and the urine smell. A man passed and said to Bella ah up there the unmarried employees live. And she said why tell me. Ah Mademoiselle because to have such beauty passing so close by I feel somehow that it is justice you should know. And we went to a restaurant up through the streets. Where she sat and I thought and thought of the men on the train what did they mean what they would do to that one. What would they do. And Bella let me have a full glass of wine. What would they do to you those men. O it's just talk, men never grow tired of flattering themselves. We raced and ran all the way back up the stairs and into her room. And Bella is this what they do. When I put my hand here and feel your breast the way it swells up from the rest of you. And I don't know yet what you've got down there in your secret hair. Yes dearest it's what they would do. They would kiss me only I'm kissing you. They would grab me tight only I'm grabbing you. And they would do what I'm telling you. Come Balthazar on top of me. On top. Like that. And never would I want you to be them. You're sweet and sweet. And my own loveliest little man of mine. Get in between my legs. There, God it's so hard. I'll guide you in. Don't worry don't worry. O God there you are, there you are, O God Balthazar. You have it up in me. And all the thoughts you never knew you'd know. Of some strange miracle happening to it there. In that part of her. Was it her. Like her face and teeth and hair. These speaking lips so close. Just step out of my brain and into hers. And hello where's the holy grail. Like rolling down in grass in all the wet sweet smell of hay and stop and stare up into a sky of chestnut blossoms. White white planets everywhere. Bella. Have I done it right. Yes yes. O Bella o Bella please it's coming out of me, it's coming out of me, hold me please. Yes yes my dearest let it come. Bella don't let me die. O please. And bleed away all my blood. O Balthazar I won't let you die or bleed away all your blood and God I'm dying too. In all the nooks and crannies and shadows of the sheets. Torn back from bodies one wild one pale. Her hand bumping and counting on my spine. And put my fingers on the hard bone behind her tiny ear. Your face Bella has your eyes closed. And you smile all around your mouth. Everything now so still. Save another long cry from the street philosopher. In search of the holy grail. And you went back up on your shoulders and groaned and groaned. Bella it wasn't unhappy was it. No no not unhappy, you silly boy. I worried you were in pain, you went all so still and shook. Sweet that's the way it is when it happens, with happiness, happiness, happiness. Why then do you have tears in your eyes. I don't know why. Tell me why. Bella. You must. Tell me why you're crying and you are. And her elbows pointed out into the dark as she held up hands. Tips of fingers across her brows, palms flat on her cheeks showing just her lips and nose. I know I'm crying. And try to lift her fingers. O please what's the matter Bella, please tell me what's the matter. O Bella what has happened to you, what have I done. I love you so. I do I love you so dearly so and now I've done something, please speak and don't cry. Please speak. I can't I can't. The mattress trembling. Her stuttering sobs. Bella you're frightening me, please what's the matter. I won't be frightened if you tell me. O Balthazar I wish I were dead. I wish so desperately I were dead. O Bella you must not wish you were dead. You must be alive with me. Let me see under your hand. Bella. I always know what's in your eyes. Please let me see under your hand. No. Please and then I can make you better again and dry up your tears. Come you snuggle in Bella now. I'll take care of you and hold your head and make you nice again. Maybe you have a little stomach ache. Little men with hammers who jump around in your belly tinkering and banging on your pipes that's what you used to say to me when I had a tummy pain. You see Bella I make a cozy corral of arms for you to be in with me. Don't you feel safe. No harm will ever get you now. Balthazar I desperately wish it were so. I like you holding me and I know that everything you say is real and is true and what you believe, you must know that I do. But it just cannot be.

"Bella I love you and have told you everything in my heart."

"I know you have. I know you have."

"I will love you through all of my life."

"You can't Balthazar, you can't."

"I can I can."

"I've got to give my notice to your mother. I'm twenty four, twenty four."

"You'll not give it."

"I have to. We're sure to get caught at this."

"We won't we will go to hotels."

"O Christ."

"And I will go to my lawyers for the money. I like doing this to you."

"O Lord. But for God's sakes Balthazar you must never never breathe a word of this. Never never no matter what happens."

"Why not if we're in love."

"Now listen to me, people just won't understand. You would never be that foolish would you."

"Yes."

"O God please now Balthazar I'm very serious. This is no joke. You would not want to see me ruined and that's what would happen if ever a word of this were breathed. To anyone."

"Promise then you'll stay."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"But what can we do together now. I mean you see it's all different now."

"You can teach me more about antiques."

"You know more than I do."

"Well then I'll teach you. Bella I won't tell anyone. But you must not go. I want everything to stay just like today."

"I know sweet but dearest, things change. Everything will be different in just a very few years. And you'll not care at all that I'm gone. Now hush. Listen. Balthazar, nothing stays the same. I won't and you won't. Even a day can come when I really will be dead. Yes. I will."

"If that day ever comes, all I will do as long as I live is remember you. I would build you a big monument too. In the Passy cemetery. I would have it have a big high roof. And it would be the grandest there was. With tall bronze doors. And inside I would have pictures of you and all your favorite flowers every day. I would come and sweep it out myself and polish the way all those old ladies do."

"Hey, you little devil. I'm not dead yet."

"Only if you were."

"I should hope so. Now maybe it's a good idea if you get out of here."

"It's only just rung half past twelve. I heard it."

"Gather up all your things now. Come on."

"No."

"You mischief."

"Bella Bella I'm a mischief, that's what I am. A mischief."

"Push you out then."

"Push, push."

"Stop stop get your hands away. Stop it Balthazar. O stop. O you've got to stop. O you really really must stop. You must. But o not yet. O God Balthazar. Not yet not yet."

Miss Hortense with her hard little knuckled fists dug into Balthazar's sides. Opened out her hands. And reached his head to pull it smothering down upon her breasts. Cushion his silky blond face back and forth in all the milky softness. Her arms so tight around. And I press my sallow body to hers. To snake my own arms under and put them round her back. And I hold her now. More than she holds me. Why did God give her so much beauty and make her born before me. To give her years to flash teeth with love and laughter. And make me race and chase after her and feel before she should go, her warm soft tongue in my mouth and whisper of rabbit rabbit in my ear. I want to catch up. Ask you to wait for me. The most nicest people are always taken away. And Bella I feel I have climbed up on a dark and strange tree. Flowering dewy wet and new. Your bottom Bella turns up as you roll over on top of me. Down there on your big spacious mounds I can put my fingers pressing softly. Where the conductor tried to pinch. On that white bright sunny day under all the trees' full greenery. And the hot silence against the stone walls along the Seine. Where we crossed the Pont Neuf and went down the dark stone steps to the Vert Galant and walked along the cobbles and sandy path. The barges throbbing by on the green gray river like your eyes. And we came to the point of this little island land. Dark figures grouped together by the park wall. I said look Bella. A man and woman clutching a greasy gathering of belongings, lay next each other in rags. The sun burned down on their dirt and dust encrusted faces dried and cracking. Toothless heads, lips drawn in over gums, strange purple swollen lips and mucous covered eyes. And before I could ask why. Were they so poor and why were they there. Bella said come along Balthazar we mustn't stay here. And I stood. Bella waiting. Three ragged men each with a bottle clutched in his blackened fist, came to stand over the sleeping couple. They began to kick them in the sides and head and bottom of their feet. And they awoke from sleep shielding their heads with raised tattered arms. And the kicks rained upon them and shouts, get out of our place. The man slowly struggled under the blows to his knees, his eyes blinking up into the sunshine. A foot smashed against his face and he fell forward as blood poured from both his eyes. The woman clawed screaming at the striking feet. The dark legs closed in on her. They struck sending dust from her ragged covered bosoms and she crumbled groaning to the ground. And as I stood there watching, the man and woman clutching at the sandy stony ground slowly began to crawl away. More blows raining on their backs and heads as they howled. Bella said you must not watch and pulled me by the arm. A day that grew gray and dark over Paris. And cast shadows through the museums, on the boats, and along the boulevards. In the passing Paris eyes were cunning monsters brooding. To lift aside some shallow gaiety and see all the writhing sewer fears. To wish to be back in England. Upon a green unworried day. The crack of a cricket bat, the choir voices of evensong. Prayerful hands and glowing altars. Lay my head as it is now between Bella's soft neck and shoulder. Gone is my fever. I felt all these long days. And listen. Another shout out on the streets. He looks for his mother. On a golden most narrow day. To fit lips upon her breast. To lie quietly now on top of one another. She's mine. No one will ever take her from me. The summer light comes up all over the sky. Bella it's morning. Yes dearest the sun came racing across the Ukraine over the Danube and valleys of the Rhone and Rhine. And it's coming in your window now. Yes. Up south over the Seine. And Bella northward to Metz and Reims. And now across your naked golden legs. Do you hear the birds. I stayed with you the whole night. I'm glad you did. Hear the gardenkeeper singing. Yes I do. Bella promise me you'll never forget this night. Of course I won't, go away now and brush your teeth. And I'll bring you breakfast. Bella I want to shout and sing and go dancing down the street. Yes I know, now really you must must go. But it's nice, you were a boy when you came in last night. And I am happy for you.

For

Now

Out walks

A man.

•

And this waking and dying of all strange Sundays. Miss Hortense walking naked to the bath, barefoot on the parquet.

"Balthazar you're following me around like a little dog and you must not do that after today."

And in the afternoon they went to Sèvres. Through all the rooms and gleaming cases of porcelain. And later by the Seine on a grassy hill. Where fishermen sat with sleeves rolled up and elbows on their knees. Factory chimneys away on the sky. And back in Paris they walked up the steps across Rue Beaujolais and through the streets behind the Bourse. They sat in a tiny Russian restaurant. And the wife cooked and the husband served and played the piano. And they had asparagus and steak tartar.

Pushing shoving and peeking in and out they waltzed back to the Palais Royal. And kissed behind the closed front door. And Bella lit a candle in her room and said you are getting your good innings indeed. And together they undressed. And danced and played. Bella did what she called the prismatic prance. And stood in front of her mirror as the candlelight shone. And said I dare you try and catch me. And I did. After all the games. And we lay locked and moist in bed.

Until the sound of an opening door. Just before the chimes rang ten. And Pierre's voice and the scrape of bags sliding on the foyer floor. Bella sat upright drawing in her breath.

"O my God I didn't bolt the door, get out of here. Pick up your clothes someone is coming."

The light faint and flickering, Balthazar ran grabbing and tripping across the floor to get out the door. Fingers clutching in a shoe, an arm squeezing together jacket and shirt. The click of his mother's heels in the foyer the end of the hall. To close Bella's door and get behind one's own. Leave the clothes strewn or be found skipping nude. To run with jacket and trousers clutched against the breast. And feel a faint sandy grit on the bottom of my feet. As a voice comes down from the dim light up the hall.

"Is that you Balthazar."

"No."

"What. Of course it is. Is it you Balthazar."

"I'm just going to my room."

"O. Well I'd thought I'd return and pack tonight and leave early tomorrow for Menton. Chantilly was such a bore. How are you getting on. Why don't you put on the light. That is you Balthazar."

"Yes."

"Switch on, I can't see you. Is something the matter."

"No."

"Would you help Pierre, he has to fetch four more bags. Put on the light for heaven's sake."

"No."

"I'll put it on. It's irritating to speak to someone in the dark. Good God. What are you doing standing in the hall clutching your clothes like that."

"Nothing. I have come from the bath."

"Well wear a robe. What's that stuck in Miss Hortense's door."

Balthazar slowly stepping backward toward his door. His mother in a dark blue flowered dress, its silky sheen gleaming in the chandelier light. Her blonde hair drawn tightly back on her head. The great diamonds on a finger flickering blue and pink as it pointed to the white cloth hanging from Miss Hortense's door.

"I think it would appear to be a curtain."

"A curtain. No it's not. Is she in there. Miss Hortense, are you in there."

In solemn dry history books Miss Hortense said. There are times of treaty and times of war. When no one is poor and there's nowhere to go and many guns to make. And people feel better because they don't always have to think of themselves. And love is sadder and stronger then. Because you might be killed.

"Yes Madam."

"Something is stuck in your door."

"Thank you Madam."

To stand so frozen here. Covering all this pain. Why doesn't she go away. Don't ever come close to me.

"Good God, your tie there Balthazar, and this. This is your shirt. What is it doing here. May I ask. In Miss Hortense's door. What is going on."

"Miss Hortense was sewing my sock."

"And you have to take off your shirt and trousers and underwear."

"I have been to the bath."

"Yes and I think it is time you should go to your room. If it is not a little nudist colony here. And I think I should have perhaps a word with Miss Hortense."

"Stay away from her."

"What did you say."

"I said to stay away from Bella."

"I will do what I choose in my flat, my dear boy."

"Do not open her door."

"And what if I do."

"I will not return here ever again."

"You are taking such a privilege away. What foolish talk. This is my house. Miss Hortense is my employee."

"She is paid with my money."

"To be sure. We are suddenly so aware of our rights. She is still my employee. And if I choose to speak to an employee I shall."

"You shan't refer to her in that fashion."

"And what fashion would you have me choose. To find your clothes strewn about. Stuck in Miss Hortense's door. You have some other term for Miss Hortense perhaps. I think so. Miss Hortense, may I have your attention a moment please."

"Just a moment."

"I can wait. It is no trouble. Yes I think perhaps I ought to know more of what is taking place while I am away. Why don't you go to your room. Balthazar."

Miss Hortense opening her door. The pale profile of her face.

"It is just to ask, my dear, that I should like to chat with you tomorrow morning. About nine thirty. Sharp, please. I think we may have some things to discuss."

"Very well Madam."

His mother turning. Her eyes of cold blue steel. Her back stiff and straight. And legs long and elegant. Click click click like a soldier she walks away.

"Bella please don't worry."

"Balthazar please good night get your clothes and go to bed."

To fall down through white tumbling sheets in a night of dreaming. And wake wide eyed to remember last morning Sunday, as Bella sat with breakfast tray and read the black headlines across the newspapers and said o Balthazar I think there is going to be war. It comes like that with photographs of men in high white collars with briefcases stepping from grand trains. They sit at great tables with glasses of water. Never any trust with treaties and someone will wield the sword. And that awful war there was before. My father said the rats roamed and ate the bodies of the dead and the whole sky smelled for miles. Like a yellow suffocating dust. And those horrid men with their black ties, smiling with their pens signing papers. Dearest Balthazar if ever guns spit red and smoke and fire please be far away. Tears in Bella's eyes as she poured our coffee in our white cups and the sheet dropped down from her breasts. She clutched it up and let it drop again and smiled. Her bosoms so strange and big when she leaned that way and nipples bright and hard. And then so tall and slender like a reed in the candlelight. I chased her and her breasts bounced up and down. I caught her round the waist. She laughed to push down my arms. Her thighs so long and strong and so much bigger than mine. Just to know and know I could touch them and feel a long straight muscle hardening there. And not be pushed away. Bully you without clothes she said and tickle. Everything's unfair in this game. Now Balthazar stand still. I want to see you. Like a little statue so white and thin. You are a fountain and water should come out of here. And now, o now. I turn it on. With her open palm to reach and touch me, stay still, so still, you tremble. Fingers touching so lightly there. All along this funny little line underneath. Balthazar my beauty. Your splendid flower, its pink rose tip. And white blue veined stem. And all its tiny blond new leaves of hair. Bella am I brave to stand still. Yes. And beautiful. And I closed my eyes.

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 baptized. Nearly 13 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, gray 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 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 9:30 the salon doors closed. And Balthazar tiptoes 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 blonde 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 trouble-some 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. And under lurk her eyes with just their touch of laughter left in their gallant green. And she takes off her hat.

"God what have you done to me Balthazar. What have you done to me."

At Gare St. Lazare. Out on the train quay at nearly six o'clock. They went that afternoon up to Sacré Coeur, climbing all the steps. And sat in the church while a procession moved around the aisles. Sacristans with crosses held high in their dark blue and red robes. Followed by women with empty married eyes. Their white pasty skins that held in their fat. And as they left the Palais Royal, his mother stood in the foyer and waved her wrists and sniffed and shook her head slowly back and forth.

The train doors slamming. Heads sticking farewell from windows. A whistle blowing. A green flag waving. A chug of steam. And the tall green carriage begins to move. I look up. The last thing we did together was to sit each with a sandwich jambon in a café across the street. To say little and then nothing at all. We were two lonely persons. Like we had never been before. And she put her hand across the table to me and bent her head. And the tears poured from her eyes. And I knew it was time just to touch her. And not say we will meet again or write. Because she would never walk out of my mind. While there was a glowing light. I knew because I could see her sitting there. Just crossing her knees. Where my lamp was lit and other lamps were out. And up in this window now. Her teeth over her lip. Her hand touching the blue ribbon she put in her hair. Choo choo choo. I cannot move or run. I stand. The train is gathering speed. Taking with it so many years. Dragging them away. Faces staring out the big glass windows. Wheels turning. Hard white steel on steel. Goodbye Miss Hortense, goodbye.

And when

The Channel

Comes

And you slip out

On the

Gray and greeny

White

Whisper to it

And say

God love you

Tonight.