Guy de Maupassant
The Colonel's Nieces
CHAPTER ONE
One of those typical December rains, mixed with sleet and ice, was drizzling down upon the city of Paris. The number of people who were walking the Rue D'Assas could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The water collected in the gutters and its gurgling could be heard in the homes, where the inhabitants were huddled around their fireplaces.
One of those homes was the abode of Madame Briquart, the respectable widow of a colonel from His Majesty's regiments, and her two adorable nieces Florentine and Julia.
That night there were four people gathered around the fireplace, because Cousin George was reading out loud from one of the latest novels. The two girls and Madame Briquart were listening, at least they pretended to do so. Julia was leafing through an old family album, Florentine was busy with her needle point, and Madame Briquart leaned back comfortably in her rocking chair.
She was a charming woman who carried her age well. She had been a widow for a long time and thanked God for His good graces. Though rumor had it that her husband was a hero on the battlefield but that in his home his wife wore the pants, one look at the fragile lady belied such ridiculous gossip.
The howling of the wind, the beating of the rain upon the window panes and the monotonous droning of Cousin George's voice had a hypnotizing effect upon the older woman.
She shivered voluptuously and her thoughts raced back through time. It must have been something George was reading about, because suddenly she was reminded of something which she had spent a lifetime to forget-her wedding night.
She vividly remembered her white gown, the handsome cavalier in splendid uniform who now had become her lord and master, the stern intonement of the bishop's “till death do us part,” and her mother's tearful advice. “You must allow him to do what he wants, it will make a woman out of you.” Of course, she had not the slightest idea what her mother meant, but an instinctive fear had come over her when she was alone with her husband in their bedroom and she noticed the terrible glint in his eyes.
“Well,” he said, “are you still dressed in that ridiculous outfit? Why aren't you in bed?” She hadn't understood and looked at him in bewilderment. He walked over to her, ripped the wedding gown, and exposed her breasts. She tried to cover up, but he roughly pulled her hands away and pressed his burning lips upon the nipple. She had been petrified, and he used her moment of fear to remove all her clothing. Then he picked her up and threw her unceremoniously upon the bed. “That's where you belong, my little dove,” he had said, “and don't ever forget that.” He suddenly jumped upon her, roaring like a wild animal. In her confusion she had not even noticed that he, too, was completely naked. What had happened to the man, she wondered. He was such a gallant young officer. Could it be that the events of this hectic day had deranged his mind?
She wanted to scream but was unable to do so, because he pressed his lips hotly upon hers, and his tongue was trying to enter her mouth. She kept her lips firmly closed when all of a sudden she had to scream out loud! Without any warning she had felt a hot, glowing thing between her legs, searching for that little orifice which, her mother had told her, God had put there for certain natural functions.
It found that spot without any hesitation and Madame Briquart shuddered again when she remembered the terrible scream she had uttered. An incredible pain tore through her body-she thought that a white-hot branding iron penetrated her, splitting her belly in half. The pain was so terrible that she sank into deep unconsciousness.