Fougeret de Montbron

The Amorous Adventures of Margot

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

Here at long last, is the story of “Margot, the Cobbler.” It is the very story which the General of the Cops misconstrued to accuse the author of high treason. The entire army of Parisian prostitutes and their pimps abetted the General in this distortion of the truth. Since the author has been accused of having attacked religion, the government and the King himself in this story, he could not afford to keep silent and thus virtually admit to any guilt. Therefore, the story is being published so that the readers may judge for themselves where lies the right and the wrong.

CHAPTER ONE. AT HOME

It is not because of vanity, and even less out of modesty, that I expose openly the various roles I played when I was young. It is my honest desire-if at all possible-to debase the egotism of those who have searched for a moderate fortune in ways similar to my own. And, above all, I want to offer the public a glowing testimony of my gratitude with the admission that everything I own is the direct result of their generosity and charity.

I was born in the rue Saint-Paul; my existence is the result of the furtive liaison between an honorable soldier of the guards and a mender of shoes. My mother, who would rather spend her time on her back, taught me the trade of mending and patching-especially shoes-at a very early age, to rid herself of the responsibility of taking care of me as quickly as she possibly could. I was about thirteen years old when my mother decided that she could leave me her mending coop and her customers, provided of course that she would get her share of my daily take.

I fulfilled her hopes so well that it took me only a very short time before I had become a pearl among the menders in our neighborhood. But I did not limit my talents to cobbling because I was also very adept at patching old trousers and mending the seats. Added to my dexterity and greatly enhancing my business was my charming face with which Nature had graced me. There was nobody in the entire neighborhood who did not want to be waited on by me. My mending coop was the gathering point of all the lackeys of the rue Saint-Antoine. Thus, I was continuously exposed to fine company, which gave me my first veneer of good manners and breeding.

My parents had given me, through lineage and good example, such a strong inclination to taste voluptuous pleasures that the desire to walk in their footsteps and try out the sweetness of carnal knowledge almost killed me.

My father, Monsieur Tranche-montagne, my mother and I lived in a single room on the fourth floor. It was furnished with a couple of wicker chairs, an old cupboard with some dirty earthenware dishes, and one wide, miserable bed without curtains and without a blanket upon which the three of us had to sleep.

The older I became the more frequently I awoke during the night because I started to notice the distinct motions of my bed companions. Quite often they were so exuberant that the springs of the bedstead forced me to participate in all of their movements. They were both panting and whispering words of endearment to each other that were dictated by their passion. I suffered unbearable excitement. I was consumed by a smoldering fire which almost took my breath away. At those moments I would have loved to kick and punch my own mother because I was so jealous of the ecstasies she enjoyed. What else could I do when I was plagued by these emotions than resort to the silent lusts of the lonely? It was a blessing that on top of these pressing needs I did not suffer from a cramp in my fingertips. But, alas, what a miserable remedy when compared to the real thing! It was really child's play. I stimulated and wore myself out to no avail and the only result was that I would be more fervent, passionate and frantic than before. I was almost consumed by rage and passion; briefly I wished I could be ravaged by a satyr. A nice disposition for a fourteen-year-old girl but, as the saying goes, I was “a chip off the old block.”

One might well understand how this eternally torturing thorn in my flesh caused me to think seriously about procuring some good solid boy friend who might be able to slake this unbearable thirst which made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. Or at least some person who might be able to bring about some relief!

CHAPTER TWO. PIERROT

Among the many manservants who continually paid me their compliments was a handsome, robust young groom who rated my special attention. His off-the-cuff compliments were always in the special language of his profession and he claimed that he never rubbed down his charger without thinking about me. Whereupon I would answer that I never worked on a pair of trousers that did not remind me of Monsieur Pierrot (that was his name). We were quite serious and paid each other many other similar compliments in elegantly turned phrases which I can no longer remember. It is enough, dear reader, for you to know that Pierrot and I quickly came to an agreement and a few days later we were to seal our covenant in the back room of a local tavern upon the altar of Venus.

The place of this sacrifice was furnished with an old table and half a dozen chairs that had fallen into decay. The walls were covered with indecent scribblings as is the custom of love-sick couples when they are in a good mood. Our banquet was entirely in keeping with the simplicity of our place of consecration. A small jug of wine for eight pennies, cheese for two and some bread — the entire amount, after careful calculation, was not more than twelve pennies. Nevertheless we celebrated our High Mass with such pleasure as if we had feasted for a gold louis per person at the famous Dupare Inn. One does not have to be surprised at this. Even the coarsest meal becomes a repast when love is a guest.

Finally we had finished. Next we had to solve the difficult problem of how we could make ourselves more comfortable. We were smart enough not to trust either the table or any of the available chairs, so we selected the only remaining possibility: trying to do it standing up. Pierrot made me recline against the wall. Oh, powerful god of the fields! It scared me when I looked down upon what he showed me. Those thrusts! What an attack! The wall creaked and moaned under his monstrous assault. I had made up my mind (because I did not want to have to reproach myself later) that this poor boy was not going to be the only one to suffer from exhaustion after so much hard work. But despite these good intentions, our perseverance and mutual courage, we still had not even made fair to middling progress, and personally I had begun to have my doubts as to whether we were ever going to be able to crown our efforts with some sort of achievement. Then Pierrot got the marvelous idea to wet his enormous tool with some spittle. Oh, Nature, Nature! How marvelous are thy many secrets! The hiding place of love opened itself and he penetrated… what more should I say? I was good and thoroughly — as it should be — deflowered.

From that time on I slept much better. Thousands of flattering dreams ruled my sleep. Monsieur and Madame Tranche-montagne could make the bed groan as loudly as they wanted during their amorous entanglements… I no longer heard them.

Our innocent love affair lasted for almost a year. I adored Pierrot and he loved me. He was quite a man indeed, whose only fault was his continuous lack of money. And since among good friends the rich help the poor, it was I who had to supply him with whatever he needed to pay for his expenses. Though the proverb states that a true cavalier would rather eat his stirrups than accept support from a lady, my boy friend, to the contrary, consumed the proceeds of my business because he loved to drink and gamble and obviously wanted to spare his stirrups. Soon I was even forced to sell my mending coop.

My mother had long since noticed that my business had fallen off sharply and she reproached me sternly. To make things worse, she soon learned from gossip in the neighborhood that my innocence had been thoroughly ruined. But, dear mother did not say anything about that. However, one morning, when I was still in a deep sleep, she armed herself with a brand new cane, and after she had sneakily pulled my nightshirt over my head, she set my buttocks afire before I had a chance to defend myself. Just imagine the incredible humiliation for a grown girl to wake up being punished like that! I was so furious that I decided right then and there to become independent and try to make my own living as I saw fit. And since I had made up my mind, I waited for an opportunity when my mother would be out of the house. I quickly put on my Sunday finery and said goodbye forever to the home of my mother.

CHAPTER THREE. NEW ACQUAINTANCE

I walked around at random and finally arrived at the place Greve; from there I walked along the banks of the Seine toward the Tuileries. I strolled aimlessly about the gardens without giving any thought to what I was going to do. By the time I had calmed down a little I had arrived at the Terrasses des Capucins. I sat there for more than a half hour, thinking about what to do next, when a smartly dressed lady of excellent demeanor sat down next to me. We nodded and started one of those conversations that people often do when they like to talk but actually have nothing of importance to say.

“Oh, Mademoiselle, isn't it hot today?”

“Terribly hot, Madame.”

“Fortunately there is a slight breeze.”

“Yes, Madame, a little.”

“Oh, Mademoiselle, can you imagine when the weather stays this way how many people will go to Saint-Cloud!”

“I am sure, Madame, there will be many.”

“Ah, Mademoiselle, the longer I look at you, the more I am convinced that we have met. Didn't I have the pleasure of seeing you in Bretagne?”

“Oh, no, Madame, I have never been outside of Paris.”

“Well, you look exactly like a young lady I know from Nantes, Mademoiselle. You two could easily be mistaken for one another. I assure you that this in no way is an insult to you, because she is one of the loveliest maidens I have ever seen.”

“You are too kind, Madame; I know that I am not lovely at all. It is only your kindness that makes you think this. And besides, it would not help me one whit, even if I were lovely.”

I underscored my last words with a deep sigh and a few tears welled from my eyes.

“But what is the matter, my dear child?” she said, pressing my hand affectionately. “You are crying! What is it that troubles you? What misfortune has befallen you? Please, do tell me, little one. Don't be ashamed; speak your mind frankly. I have taken a great liking to you and you can be assured that I will do whatever is in my power to help you. Come, my little angel, let us walk to the other side of the Terrasses and have some breakfast at Madame La Croix' who owns le Cafe des Tuileries. Then you can pour out your heart and 'talk freely about your sorrows. It is quite possible that I can be of much greater help to you than you think.”

She did not have to twist my arm after this kindly invitation because my poor stomach was very empty. I followed her, and there was no doubt in my mind that she had been sent to me by Heaven and was going to help me with more than just solid advice. I was sure this kind lady was going to rescue me from the terrible dangers that can befall a lonely girl walking the streets of Paris.

After I had fortified myself with two cups of coffee with cream, and some French rolls, I told her quite frankly about my origin and my profession. I was not as candid about certain other things and I felt it would be more appropriate to heap all the blame upon my mother. For that reason I painted a rather bleak picture of her so that I could justify my reason for having run away from home.

“Holy Mother of God!” exclaimed my benign, unknown benefactress. “The tortures you must have suffered to be forced into such a lowly profession. Imagine, such a charming child, year in, year out, exposed to the weather… the heat of the sun, the cold of winter; to be forced to crouch inside a mender's coop and patch up the boots of every passerby. No, my little princess, you were not born to suffer this. Because — and I surely do not have to keep this a secret from you — when one is as pretty as you are, one does not have to perform such menial labors. And I am sure that I could find something much better for you to do, if you are the kind of girl that is willing to take advice and guidance.”

“Oh, my dearest lady,” I exclaimed, “please do tell me! What should I do? Help me in any way you see fit. I deliver myself entirely into your keeping.”

“That is fine,” she resumed. “We will live together. I have four other girls en pension, and you are going to be the fifth.”

“But, Madame,” I answered prematurely, “how could I? Have you so soon forgotten that it would be entirely out of the question in my present miserable condition to pay even one single penny for room and board?”

“You do not have to worry about that at all,” she smiled. “The only thing I ask of you at this time is your obedience and willingness to accept my guidance. We will handle all other details later. I have a small business proposition and I flatter myself that with God's help you will not only be fully able to repay me but also have enough money to support yourself completely ere this month has ended.”

An enormous feeling of gratitude welled up in me and I almost threw myself at her feet and bedewed them with my tears. I felt a great desire to be taken into this blessed little family. Thanks to my lucky stars my impatience was not tried too much.

CHAPTER FOUR. THE HOUSE

It was around noon when we left the Ter-rasses through the Porte-Feuillantine. A venerable fiacre took us in his plush cab and, after the calmly trotting horses had reached the Boulevards, drove us to an isolated home opposite the rue Montmartre.

The house looked very secluded, nestled between a courtyard and a garden, and I presumed that the lucky inhabitants of this fine mansion must be very happy and fortunate indeed. Silently I blessed the humiliating circumstances which had awakened me so rudely earlier this morning, since the result had been this remarkable acquaintanceship.

I was led into a beautifully furnished large room on the ground floor, and soon I was introduced to my future companions. Their coquetry, their charming — albeit slightly sloppy — make-up, their resolute manners and their self-assured demeanor frightened me so much at first that I hardly dared look up. I stammered and stuttered when I tried to answer their friendly greetings. My benefactress, who immediately assumed that the simple clothes I was wearing could be the reason for my nervousness, promised me to change my outfit without delay and added that I would soon be just as finely bedecked as these young ladies. Indeed, I did feel slightly humiliated, being among women whose morning robes were made out of the finest Indian and French cloth, since I wore only the frumpy garments of a girl of the working class. But there was one thing which made me very curious and also slightly worried. I wanted to know what sort of a business I was expected to enter. The luxury which my newfound friends obviously could permit themselves surprised me greatly; I was not capable of imagining how they could possibly afford these expenditures. I was so humble, or rather, still so inexperienced, that I did not have the vaguest notion of what was literally forcing itself into my mind. And while I was still trying very hard to think of a solution to this apparent mystery, the soup was served and we seated ourselves at the table. Even though the cooking was bad, we corrected its preparation with a lot of pepper. We ate so much that the kitchen personnel did not get a single table scrap.

So far, everything had gone very well. But when two of the ladies had surpassed the boundaries of moderation and the fumes of Bacchus started to veil their minds, one suddenly punched her fist into the mouth of the other, who in turn revenged herself with a blow in her friend's soup dish. In no time at all the table, the dishes, meat and sauce were spread all over the floor. War had been declared. My two heroines flew at each other with equal animosity. Scarves, bonnets, sleeves, all were tattered in an instance. When the mistress of the house tried to get in between and assert her authority, they pasted her — as if by mistake — in the face with a platter of sauce. Since she was totally unprepared for this peculiar caress and since patience obviously did not belong among her most outstanding virtues, making peace was now out of the question. On the spot she gave a demonstration of her superiority in the heroic art of boxing. Meanwhile, the two others who had so far remained neutral, felt that they could no longer idly stand by, whereupon the entire affair became even more fascinating and an all-out battle ensued.

The moment it all started I had retired to the farthest corner of the room, quaking with fear, and I did not move as long as the brawl lasted. It was a terrifying yet at the same time farcical comedy to see these five creatures tumble over and under each other, biting, scratching, kicking and hitting, simultaneously screaming obscenities at each other and now and then showing in a most unseemly manner their large and small tools of the trade.

There was no indication that this massacre would be over soon were it not for an old man, who looked as if he had lived in the gutter all his life, announcing the arrival of a German baron. And you know how much respected these personages are among demimondaines; almost as much as the Mylords. The word “baron” had hardly been uttered when the entire battle was over and done with instantly. The amazons separated and hastily tidied their tattered gowns. They dried themselves, dusted one another and the distorted, overheated faces assumed momentarily their tender and natural friendliness. Our mistress left quickly to entertain the baron and the ladies hastened to their rooms to dress appropriately and repair their faces in order to be able to receive him suitably.

The reader, who is undoubtedly more experienced than I was in those days, must have already guessed that I had landed in one of the best-run houses of Paris. And he will also be aware that our gracious hostess was one of the most sought after in this business; she called herself Madame Florence.

As soon as she found out that the arrival of the baron had been announced for the sole purpose of putting an end to the fighting, she walked over to me with a very satisfied and happy expression on her face. She lightly kissed my forehead and said, “Just because of this slight disagreement you witnessed a moment ago, I do not want you to think badly of us, my little one. They were very unimportant differences of opinion about nothing and against nobody in particular. They blow over in a minute. After all, one is not always master of one's emotions. And at such times people's feelings are more or less sensitive. Even the worm wriggles when you step on it. When you get to know the ladies a little bit better, you will be enchanted by their charming dispositions. They truly are the most kind-hearted creatures in all the world. Their fury is like passion — short-lived; it dies down as quickly as it flares up. In a minute everything will be forgotten. Thank God that I don't even know how it feels to be vengeful; and I am no more venomous than a turtledove. I feel sorry for those who wish me ill luck, because I surely don't wish it upon anybody. But now we should talk about you.

“You will have to admit, my dear child, that one does not have a chance in today's society when one is not rich. 'No money, no blessings,' is the proverb. But one can also paraphrase and say, 'No money, no pleasures and no comforts in life.' And since it is very simple to appraise comfortable living and other luxuries, I think you will have to agree with me that it would be rather stupid to reject a livelihood, especially if one possesses the means for it and does not do any harm to society. Because that would be very sinful. Yes, my child, may the good Lord protect us. But in this respect I have an absolutely clear conscience and I take careful precautions against any possible accusation. And we are, after all, not among the Turks; we have to think about the salvation of our souls. And, moreover, it is not against the law to earn your living in this or that manner. It is not a question of what profession one takes up. What is important is that you are good at it. As I have already told you, it is rather stupid when one does not use his God-given talents to make a good living as long as one can. And tell me, who could do that better than you, with all the resources good Nature has equipped you? She has certainly not made you so beautiful merely to let it go to waste. I know so many girls who are far less charming and attractive than you who nevertheless manage to make a very fair income. They have discovered the secret! And I may add without bragging that have never taken too much out of their earnings, though their way to riches was entirely my doing. But I pray that the good Lord may have pity upon those ingrates. I don't want to encroach upon their pleasures.”

“Oh, my dear, dear lady,” again I spoke too quickly. “I hope that you never have to accuse me of such ingratitude.”

“Do not commit yourself, my dear,” she replied. “They have all said the same thing, and yet they still have completely forgotten me! When fortune smiles upon them, people show their true color. Ah, if you only knew how many girls go to the Opera who received their entire education from me and who pretend now that they have never known me, then you would be forced to admit that gratitude is not one of the virtues that is practiced in this profession. But, nevertheless, it is always a great pleasure to find someone who is in need of assistance. By the way, my little pussycat, as young and beautiful as you are, have you never had a suitor?”

“Who? Me, Madame?” I answered in a hypocritical tone of voice. “Who would ever take notice of me in my present deplorable situation?”

“I think you prefer not to understand me,” she retorted. “Now you have forced me to be more blunt about it. Are you still a virgin?”

This unexpected question surprised me so much that my cheeks turned blood red and I lost my composure entirely. “I see, you've lost it,” she said. “But that is not too important. We have creams that work wonders and we can restore it so that nobody would know the difference. All the young ladies who decide to go into the profession have to undergo a similar examination and treatment. It is merely a ceremony, and it does not hurt at all. You must admit that it is just good business when a merchant knows his wares.”

While she was talking, Madame Florence had pulled my skirt high above my waist. She turned me around and looked me over very thoroughly. Nothing escaped her experienced eyes.

“Very good,” she said. “I am satisfied. The damage you have suffered is not too great. It can easily be repaired. Thank God you have one of the most beautiful bodies I have ever seen, and you should be able to derive great benefits from it. But one of the most important duties of our profession is not to be stingy with the use of the sponge. And it appears to me that you are totally unfamiliar with this habit. Come with me, and I will show you as long as we still have time.”

She led me immediately into a small dressing room and made me straddle over a bidet. She then taught me my first lesson in hygiene. The remainder of the day was spent with her teaching me various other, less important things about my future profession.

CHAPTER FIVE. MADAME FLORENCE

The next morning, as she had promised, Madame Florence changed me from head to toe. She gave me a gown of rose-colored silk taffeta with a furbelow, a muslin chemise and a large gold-colored timepiece for my belt.

I thought I looked simply devastating in my new outfit and since I experienced the pangs of vanity for the first time in my life, I looked upon myself with a mixture of satisfaction, admiration and respect.

One has to give Madame Florence her proper due; she had planned everything down to the most minute detail. Among the abbesses of Cytherea she was truly the greatest genius. She knew the solutions to every problem. Aside from the boarders that were always in her house, she held many girls in the city in reserve just in case business should pick up suddenly; she did not want to be caught shorthanded. Sometimes she had special requests and always knew a girl able to fulfill such. But that was not all; she also had a warehouse stocked with gowns and dresses in various designs and many colors which she loaned to new and destitute beginners like myself. This, too, increased her income considerably.

To be sure that her outlay would quickly bear interest, Madame Florence had already informed some of her best customers of her new find. And because of this sensible precautionary measure we did not have to wait too long. Monsieur President de L…, who always showed up promptly the moment he was notified of a new discovery, arrived that night at eleven o'clock sharp, just as I had finished my toilette. I saw a man of medium build, completely dressed in black, standing erect with chin held high. He held his neck stiff, so that when he moved his head, his entire torso turned with it. He wore an artificially coiffed wig which was so heavily powdered with poudre a la marechale that three quarters of it covered his jacket. Aside from that, such a heavy smell of ambrosia and musk wafted around this personage that only those who were used to heady perfumes barely managed to keep from fainting.

“Ah, Florence,” he exclaimed while staring at me, “that is really something beautiful; truly precious and divine. This time you have outdone yourself. Really, I am serious, Mademoiselle is adorable. She is a hundred times more beautiful than you have told me. Upon my honor, she is an angel. I do not exaggerate when I call her a marvelous specimen. Just look at those beautiful eyes! I have to press a kiss upon them; I simply cannot resist.”

Madame Florence, who had already foreseen the following events, and who knew that the presence of a third person was superfluous, discreetly retired into another room and left the two of us alone. Without giving up his majestic posture, M. President immediately sat me down upon the couch, and after he had amused himself for a while with touching and looking at my most secret charms, he forced me into a posture which was exactly the opposite to the one I used to take with Pierrot. But, I had been advised to be kind and obliging. I spread my legs while bending over as if to touch my toes, unaware of his ultimate goal. He gripped me tightly about the waist and pushed me even farther forward, so that I almost lost my balance. I was completely helpless in this position. I hoped that he would hurry. A sharp pain in my nether hole announced his attack, and I struggled to rise, or at least to correct what I believed to be his faulty aim. But to no avail. The perfidious gentleman did to me what all debauchees dream of doing and I lost my second virginity. My convulsive movements during this unnatural operation, and the loud screams that escaped me against my will, made it clear to M. President that I did not share his passionate ardor at all. To compensate me, and also to make me forget the pains I had suffered, he pressed two louis d'or into my hands.

“This is in addition to your regular fee,” he stated, “and you do not have to tell Madame Florence about it. I take care of all the fees, including yours. Fare-thee-well, my little queen, but first I want to press one more kiss upon your adorable, tiny orifice. So! I hope we will meet again during the next few days. Yes, we will have to see each other again because I am greatly satisfied with you and the way you have behaved yourself.”

Upon those words he left the room with quick small steps. The floorboards of the room creaked because he walked on the tips of his toes and kept his knees stiff. I did not understand in the least what had happened to me and I did not know at all what to think. Either M. President had made a mistake or this peculiar way of taking possession of an innocent girl must be the habit of people of a certain rank and position. Well, if that happens to be the fashion, I told myself, I suppose I have to get used to it. I am not more sensitive than anybody else. Any new method that is tried out for the first time can be rather exhausting. But, after all, there is nothing to which one cannot get used to in time. I had become rather accustomed to Pierrot's methods, though in the beginning I had to strain myself to get used to him.

I was still engrossed in this interesting conversation with myself when Madame Florence entered the room again.

“Well, young lady,” she said, rubbing her hands, “don't you think M. President has a charming personality? Did he give you anything?”

“No, Madame,” I answered.

“Look here,” she countered, “this is a louis d'or. He has ordered me to give this gold piece to you. I hope it will not remain the only token of his great appreciation for you, because he seemed to be extremely satisfied with your services. Please, don't think, my dear child, that all our devotions are so simple or for that matter so richly rewarded. As with every business there are losses and there are gains. The pleasures make up for the disappointments. There is not a single merchant who makes good money all the time. One has to take the gains and the losses with equal good graces. Our profession would be a true goldmine were it not for the fact that we also have to put up with some bad customers. But, never lose your patience. Soon the esteemed members of the clergy will have their conventions. I entertain high hopes that you will then see the money virtually roll into our coffers. Truly — and I don't want to sound vain — my house does not have a bad name. If I had as many thousands in income as I have received prelates, abbots and other high-ranking gentlemen, I would be able to live like a queen. Mind you, I would not be justified if I seem to complain. The Lord has been very good to me and I could stop working right now. But, whosoever is of no use to himself, is of no use to anybody. And, besides, a person has to have some form of occupation. 'Idleness is the root of all evil,' as the proverb says. If everyone were to stick to his business, we would have no troubles in this world.”

While Madame Florence was flooding me with her boring sagacities and proverbs, I almost got a cramp in my jaw from trying to stifle a compulsive yawning. She finally noticed it and sent me up to my room, reminding me to be sure and make good use of the bidet.