Stone's Fall

And then I leaned over and kissed her. Very clumsily, even aggressively, but I could stand the tension no more. I was well aware that she might pull back, that the moment might be ruined by my behaviour, but I did not care. I was a Venetian; I could take what I wanted. I had to know and had to show my intentions, however dishonourable and however much I might risk losing her esteem had I made a mistake. It was appalling behaviour, to try and take advantage of a married woman in an isolated spot when she had trusted me. I can only say that I was overtaken by a sort of madness, the impetuosity that comes from being in a foreign land where the usual demands of behaviour are relaxed, combined with the special magic of a place which encourages emotional display normally kept hidden from view.

She did not pull back. Instead, she responded to my advance with a ferocity that encouraged still more from me, and we lay back on the the ground, bodies entwined and unable to get sufficient of each other, groans being the only communication between us apart from the eloquent conversation of our bodies.

How it happened I do not know; I cannot recall whose initiative it was, but I felt her hands exploring my body so firmly that I was roused to a pitch of excitement greater than anything I had ever experienced before, and I scrabbled vainly at her clothes – oh, the clothes of that period, like medieval castles they were, designed to repel all assault – until she pulled back.

Again I was surprised, for I expected her to come to her senses then, and realise the peril of her situation, but she did not. All she said was, 'Not like that,' and slowly began unbuttoning her blouse, then her skirts, until she was revealed to me in all her beauty, and lay back on the blanket, and held out her arms for me, an expression of desperation and longing on her face.

It was not good, that first time, perhaps it never is between two people so uncertain of each other, so unknowing of the other's needs and desires, but she cried out, almost in pain, towards the end and I could feel the tension seeping from her body as it ebbed slowly from mine. Then we lay together, I slowly caressing her belly, still unable truly to believe that such a thing had happened. What was this woman? What sort of person gives herself up in such a fashion? But again I did not care. I had had such thoughts before, with others, and in each case the result had been a sort of disgust, a separation of lust from respect and an inability to reconcile the two feelings. There was no such difficulty now; I was merely content, blissful, and desired nothing more than to hold her close for ever. I felt whole for the first time in my life.

But as I turned to look on her face, I saw tears trickling slowly down her cheek and was startled into sitting up.

'Oh my dear, I am so sorry, so very sorry,' I said genuinely, convinced that she had, at last, realised the folly of her actions.

She laughed through her tears, and shook her head. 'No, I am not crying for that,' she said.

'What then?'

She said nothing, but reached across and found her blouse, which she put, without any underclothes, across her shoulders.

'Tell me,' I insisted.

'I don't know if I can,' she said. 'It is not easy to say it.'

'Try.'

She looked out to sea for a long while, gathering her thoughts.

'I was twenty-seven when I married Mr Cort,' she began softly. 'An old maid. I had all but given up thought of marrying, and believed I would have to make shift as best I could on my own. Then he appeared and proposed. I accepted, even though I knew there would never be any love between us. He made me no promises, nor I him. He wanted a housekeeper; he has no notion of love or romance. Besides, I was giving nothing up, and I thought we would make do together. I would have children, and they would provide affection enough.

'I learned soon enough that was simply a dream as well. He cannot . . . do what you do.'

'What do you mean?'

'We do not have the intimacy of the sort that is usual between man and wife,' she continued stiffly. 'Nor has he any interest in women in that way. I thought to begin with it was just the shyness of a habitual bachelor, but I soon realised that it was more than that. No! I must say no more!'

'As you wish, but do not keep silent for my sake.'

I could see what she meant by this being difficult; it was hard to listen to. But once she had started she could not stop; it was as though all her words had been blocked in her for years and took the first opportunity to come bursting out into the open, to the first sympathetic listener. I said nothing at all, merely listening cemented our intimacy and drew our lives closer together, made us lovers in the soul as well as the body.

'He has other tastes. Terrible, perverted, disgusting ones. He did his duty, and we had our son, but that was all. When I discovered . . . what he was, I could no longer go near him. I will not have him touch me, if I have the choice. Do you understand?'