—MILTON,
Paradise Lost
“THIS MUST BE how syphilis spreads: blokes like me, hopping from place to place.”
“Why, Bob! I don’t believe anyone’s ever said anything quite so romantick to me.”
“I can’t guess what you were expecting when you roger an old sergeant in hay.”
“Come, lace me back up.”
“Would you hold your hair up out of the way? There, that’s better…”
“...”
“...tedious work, ain’t it?”
“Oh, stop complaining.”
“I’ve no complaints. But we could have left this bit on, you know.”
“Yes, and the stockings as well, and we could have done it standing up, and you with your boots and breeches on. But for me to enjoy it, Bob, I require a sense of abandon, of freedom, that only comes with removal of clothes.”
“This tight enough?”
“It is fine…for the same reason, Bob, I could do without your idle ruminations on syphilis, and how it spreads.”
“I don’t have it, mind you. Haven’t rogered anyone in years.”
“Nor do I. And neither have I.”
“What d’you mean, you told me you’ve a baby boy, six months old—”
“Last time we met. Now, seven months.”
“Be that as it may, how can you say you haven’t rogered anyone in years?”
“Sex with my husband I leave out of the reckoning altogether.”
“Strikes me as a large omission.”
“It would not, if you had ever had sex with étienne de Lavardac, duc d’Arcachon.”
“Can’t say as I have, Madame.”
“Unless you did, and forgot about it. At any rate—he has been doing it to me again lately.”
“Lately...ah. You are saying that there was a cessation, round about the time of the birth of number two, and now he is trying for three.”
“In his mind they are One and Two respectively. For the first, being a bastard, is a zero; which means a nullity, something that does not exist.”
“That—the bastard I mean—is the one you had round about the time I shipped out to Dundalk, and you got marooned in Dunkerque?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just refreshing my memory, my lady, no need to be getting all stiff in the spine—cor! It’s gone loose, I shall have to re-lace from the beginning.”
“It is not necessary. Just get to work buttoning up the bodice.”
“Got ripped a bit, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll have it mended. Come, I am apprehensive that someone will happen along and discover us.”
“Ah, but not to worry—I’m naked!”
“How is it better to be naked?”
“As long as I keep my mouth shut, I’ll be indistinguishable from one of your French nobility. They’ll run away in terror.”
“Especially when they see your scars. Very impressive.”
“You would never think so, if you had any notion of the pain that comes with these scars, the weakness, the helplessness—draining pus for months—not knowing from one moment to the next whether you shall live or die—”
“You forget that I have given birth twice.”
“Touché. Ah, but now you’ve brought me back round to my topic.”
“What is your topic?”
“You never talk about the bastard.”
“Perhaps, from that, you should collect that I do not wish to speak of him.”
“I was merely asking as a routine courtesy, as is common among parents.”
“How are Jack’s boys?”
“Jimmy and Danny are Regimental boys like their father and nuncle. If they’re doing as they ought to—which is unlikely—they are, at this moment, peeling potatoes at our camp outside of Cherbourg.”
“Do they have any inkling that you are acting as a spy for Marlborough?”
“Why, what an impolite question, Madame la duchesse! I am in no way certain that I am a spy. Haven’t made up my mind yet. Haven’t sent any information his way.”
“Well, when you decide to do so, you may send it through me.”
“If I decide to do so.”
“You will. An invasion of England is planned, is it not?”
“When French and Irish regiments march up to the tip of the Cotentin Peninsula and form great camps in the spring-time, it does make one tend to think ’long those lines, don’t it?”
“In the end you’ll not suffer England to be invaded. You’ll inform Marlborough.”
“Marlborough’s in disgrace. He and his meddlesome wife got on the wrong side of William and Mary. He had to sell his offices, his commissions. He is nothing now.”
“Yes, it is the talk of every salon in Versailles. But if England is invaded, he will be un-disgraced very rapidly, and put at the head of some regiments. And you will rally to him.”
“As you seem so certain of these things, I deem all your questions answered, madame—so I turn them round. Does the Duke of Arcachon have any inkling that you are a spy?”
“Your supposition is mistaken. I spied for England once. Now I do it for myself.”
“Ah. So, if we are to cross the Channel, you should like to know of it for your own purposes.”