Date: Wed, 21 Apr 2010 19:09:41 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Montsabot Charterhouse 02/15 (highschool/historical)

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MONTSABOT CHARTERHOUSE
By Andrej Koymasky © 2010
Written on June 29, 2002
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Brian

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"MONTSABOT CHARTERHOUSE" is a gay story, with some parts containing
graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion,
family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better
not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't
care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my
welcomed guest.

-----------------------------

Chapter 2 - Herve finds a job

"Monsieur Laforest, this is the young Brout? I already mentioned to him
the reason for your visit and our dear young man is really flattered by
the position you are offering him. If you would like to talk for a while
in private, I'm going to read my book of prayers in the corridor?"

The industrialist looked the boy up and down - he was wearing clothes
that were neither humble nor elegant, but they were absolutely clean and
tidy. His shoes, although not new, were flawlessly shining. He didn't
seem nervous about the interview and, even though he had a respectful
attitude, he also seemed to show some pride that didn't displease the
industrialist at all.

"What did the father say your name is?"

"Brout, Monsier, Herve Brout."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen, sir?" the boy answered, somewhat surprised for that question
- as he had just graduated, the man should have guessed it?.

"Therefore you were born?"

"In 1884, sir." the boy preceded him.

"Of course. Well, you see?" the man started to explain to him what he
was expecting from him. He told him about the salary, not so high, but
with meals, room and two complete changes of clothing each year,
therefore quite good all in all. "? so, then, what do you think?"

"And? sorry, sir, what about a free day?"

"A free day? My son needs to be watched three hundred and sixty five
days a year, as I cannot? to be exact, three hundred and sixty six days
next year, as it is a leap year. No, no, no free day, you will be at
full service!" the industrialist answered almost amazed for that
unexpected request.

"Does your son attend a public school?"

"No, I send him to a private school. Why?"

"Therefore, while he is at school, I can presume to be free?" the young
man said, more as a logical deduction than as a question.

"Well? yes? provided that you accompany him to the school and are there
to pick him up at the end of the day, of course."

Herve thought that, as he had neither family nor friends, after all he
didn't care so much about having a vacation day, so these conditions
could be good? and anyway it was worth trying it? He therefore accepted
all of the man's the conditions.

"When should I start my service, sir?" the boy asked.

"At once. I mean? First of all my coachman will see you to our tailor -
I want you better dressed, as you will live with my son? He will then
see you to my villa and then you can start. Your first payday, of
course, is at the end of your first month of work. Today it is July 4th,
therefore you will get paid on August 4th."

"Perfect, sir. Thank you."

"Keep him out of trouble, make sure that he behaves and he studies, I
don't ask anything more of you. Ah, and tell the butler to give you the
former governess's room - the new housekeeper? well, I will assign her
another room on the first floor? Make sure, young man, be ready in one
hour, I will send my coachman to you."

"All right, Monsieur Laforest? and thank you again." the young man said,
saying farewell with a light bow and a smile.

The man answered just waving a hand. He liked the boy's respectful but
not too servile farewell?

Herve went upstairs to prepare his luggage - his clothes, a lot of
books, his graduation diploma, and the small tortoise-shell box he
received from his father for his tenth birthday, a little before he
died. It was his only, true treasure?

He went downstairs carrying his cardboard suitcase, kept closed tightly
by a strong rope, and went to say farewell and to thank the dean. Then
he waited, with joyous anticipation, for the coachman to arrive - a new,
great change was happening in his life and he was filled with curiosity
and expectation.

He would have liked better to be a teacher in a school, but after all  a
tutor is a kind of teacher. It could be a kind of training - when the
kid grew up and didn't need his services any more, he could start to
look for a place as a teacher. He would be more mature and it would be
easier, especially if he got good references.

Monsieur Laforest warned him that the kid was a difficult little thing,
but this didn't worry him; the young Laforest was an orphan of his
mother, and he knew very well what it meant being an orphan - they would
understand each other. Orphaned by his mother and with a father absent,
from what he could understand, therefore an orphan almost like him?

The coachman came. He put his suitcase into the carriage. They stopped
at the tailor's.

The coachman gave the tailor a note, the man read it then, smiling to
Herve, told him, "Ah, so you are the young Monsieur's new tutor? well,
well, well. A complete summer suit with two shirts. Monsieur writes here
only that they have to suit your role? Would you like to see some
fashion pictures? I have several magazines that have just arrived from
Paris?" the man said, having him sit and putting a pile of magazines on
the table in front of him.

Herve started to thumb through them? then pointed to a model that he
thought to be elegant, "This one." he said, self assuredly.

"Well, really? of course you cannot use what you are wearing now for
your job; at least for now, I wouldn't say that fashion to be the most
suitable? You would have to wear it also in social occasions when you
escort the young Monsieur, do you see?"

"Ah. So, then, what do you advise to me?"

"Well? this one, or this one? or this."

"Oh my God! But they all are? sombre!"

"Yes, I agree, but?"

"Something more? bright, I don't know?"

"Brighter? Well? this model has a freer cut?"

"But it is so dark!"

"What about this cloth?" the tailor said taking a roll and showing it to
the boy.

"Well? if something brighter isn't possible? that one could be all
right? Do you think that Monsieur Laforest will have no objections?"

"No, I really don't think he would, as he always leaves the choice to
me?" the man answered with some pride, then added, "Good, let's take
your measurements, then."

The coachman was sitting in a corner of the shop and was looking at
Herve, now in his shirtsleeves, studying him without being too
conspicuous - a new inhabitant of the villa, the youngest one of the
personnel; he hoped he would not make passes, especially at the young
cook as he already had his eye on her?

When the measurements were taken, Herve wore his jacket again and with
the coachman resumed the way to the villa.

"How is Monsieur Laforest?" the youth asked the man.

"The old master or the young master?" the man asked, turning his head
barely back to look at him.

"The old master? or to better say, both of them."

"We don't see so much of the old master at the villa. He is a man of few
words and it's enough to carry on one's own duty well, and there are no
problems. The young master, besides with the governesses, is a good boy.
He resembles his poor mother very much, God rest her soul."

"How did Madame pass away? How old was the kid?"

"Oh, the poor lady? Madame came from a noble family, don't you know?
Napoleonic nobility, but anyway an aristocrat. She was really
good-hearted, although she had a strong personality? She passed away
when the child was just two years old, that is twelve years ago. It
seemed like a common cold, but on the contrary?"

"Therefore the child has been looked after by a governess." Herve
commented.

"A governess? yes, or better to say no, they were at least six
governesses. Only the first one and the last one held out for a longer
time. But the first one married and so had to resign. The other ones? in
one way or another, the young master made all them run away."

"Yes, I know, Monsieur Laforest told me. But why did the first one
resign when she married? Did she have to move away?"

"No, it's just that our master doesn't want married people in his
service - either singles or widows, at least the women."

"Are you married?"

"Not yet. The gardener is, but his family lives downtown - our master
doesn't want snotty kids in his way?"

Herve thought that the boy would have had a rather lonely life as he
had, even though for different reasons. He instinctively felt sympathy
for the "enfant terrible" he was about to meet and who had been
entrusted to his care.

They reached the villa.

It stood on the boundaries of a wood that grew up to the top of the
hill, and in front of the villa there were tilled fields. The wood
covered one half of the hill as the other half was entirely planted with
vineyards.

It was a building of the beginning of the 1800s in Empire style, wide,
solemn, agreeable to sight, set as it was in that green nature.

A long wrought iron railing surrounded its front, leaving just the room
for a long and narrow garden, then was replaced by two walls that bent
behind it and went up to the hill, disappearing in the thick greenery.
The railing was all painted in black and gold and the gate was wide
open. The coach stopped in front of the central colonnade.

While Herve was taking out his suitcase, the coachman climbed the stairs
and called the butler. He gave him another note from their master then,
with a gesture goodbye, went back to town.

The butler was a man in his fifties, not very tall, lean, wearing a
black suit and only his white gloves revealed his role.

"I am Clement, the butler. So, then, you are the young Master's new
tutor? Good, here the master wrote that you will use the former
governess' quarters. You will be fine there? as long as you last. Follow
me."

They went in - a wide entrance hall with an elegant double stairway,
columns in a vaguely Egyptian style, a big chandelier at its centre and
there were rows of doors both on the ground floor and on the first one
behind an elegant balcony.

The man was explaining, "Only you, the maidservant and I sleep here in
the villa, all the rest of the personnel sleep above the stables. The
maidservant and I sleep here on the ground floor, behind the kitchens;
you will sleep on the first floor, near the bedrooms of the masters. I
will show you now your quarters, then the rest of the house. The Master
wrote here that you should assume service at once?" he said waving the
note received from the master. "Here you are, you will sleep here." he
then added, opening a door on the first floor and moving aside to make
him enter.

They were two small rooms in a row - the first one was a kind of sitting
room with an armchair and a low table, an empty corner cupboard with
glasses. The colours, the patterns and all the furnishing denoted long
use by a woman. But the real surprise was the bedroom - it seemed a
dolls' room, filled with flounces and laces on a pink tonality decorated
with flowers - flowers printed on the wallpapers, flowers on the
curtains, flowers on the bed cover. Herve grimaced.

The butler noticed it and said, "If you would like to change something,
you can, - one half at your expenses and the other half is on the house.
But when you leave, everything remains to the house. In the storehouse
there are several pieces of furniture, so you can change it if you
like."

"Oh my God, yes?" moaned the young man looking around and thinking that
not even his aunt would have appreciated such a feminine style. "There
is not even a shelf for books?" he then added, almost bewildered.

"The governess didn't have much time to read, as she also had to care
for the house. It will be different for you, as you will only have to
take care of the young master?"

"Is there a bookshelf in the storehouse?"

"I presume there is one, but we will go and see later, in moment. I will
now show you the villa and introduce you at the rest of the personnel,
come."

After the tour was over and he had met all the house staff, Herve asked,
before being introduced to the boy, to have time to refresh himself and
to put his belongings in order.

In his room he found warm water and a towel on the washstand. He looked
around again and shuddered - he really didn't like at all the decoration
of that room! He found it simply horrible! He had to change it, and as
soon as possible? Half on him and half on the master - a good way to
avoid wasteful, ill-thought-out changes at the house's expense. Above
all, he had to change the wallpaper and the curtains?

He undressed remaining bare-chest, shaved, washed and dried himself,
combed his hair, made a couple of grimaces at his image reflected in the
washstand mirror, then put on a clean shirt, a bowtie and his light
summer jacket. He checked in the washstand mirror to be sure he was in
good order - yes, the reflected image was agreeable. Herve wasn't
narcissistic but, he had to admit it, he liked himself. And even though
he wasn't aware of it, all the people who looked on him liked his aspect
- a man in the flower of youth, with elegant and proportioned features,
with bright and clear eyes, straight lips often folded in a light smile
denoting his joy of living? He had an athletic body, neither too plump
nor too thin? Quite many women and men found him not only agreeable but
also attractive.

He went out to tell the butler he was ready to meet the young Laforest.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

He was going downstairs when a blond kid came out from a door and
started to climb the stairs at his side. Without any doubt he would be
the young Roland.

"Hi! You must be Roland?" Herve merrily greeted him.

The kid raised his eyes and looked at him confused, "Hi?" he said
hesitant, then added, measuring him from head to toe, "but who are you?"

"I'm Herve?"

"Herve?" the boy asked.

"I was just hired? I am to take care of you?"

"Ha, the new governess!" the boy said at once putting on an unfriendly
attitude.

Herve laughed, "Until one has proof of the contrary, I don't think I
could be thought to be a woman. I'm a male from head to toe, like you
are?"

The hint of a smile flashed briefly on the boy's eyes at that answer,
but at once was replaced by a clearly hostile glance, "Governess or
tutor, there is not such a difference."

"To me there is a big difference?"

"Did they already settle you in?" the boy asked and Herve noticed he
brusquely assumed a very formal air.

"Let's say they did, even though the room, with all those lace trimmings
gives me the creeps. I want to refurbish it? would you help me?"

"What? Help you? You are hired to take care of me, not I of you."

"That's war, isn't it?" the young man commented with a smile - he liked
the kid.

"I have to go and change my clothes, if you please, Monsieur."

"Yes, of course. Can I come with you to your room? As we will have to
spend the bigger part of our time together, it would be good to start to
know each other?"

"Yes, know your enemy?" Roland sharply said, going towards his room.

As the boy didn't answer with a "no", Herve felt authorized to follow
him.

When they were in the boy's room, Herve sat at the desk, while Roland
was starting to undress. Herve looked around trying to understand what
the hobbies, the pastimes of the kid were. Surely reading, and this
pleased him, then?

When Roland was bare chested and wore only underpants, down to the
knees, he went to the washstand and started to vigorously wash himself.
Herve finished his tour of the room with his eyes and looked at the boy.
He saw him three-quarters from the back. What he saw was a nice body,
not still that of a child but not yet that of a man, without the
ambiguity of shape of childhood but already maturing. His wide back was
smooth, the skin soft and almost velvety, but his muscles were still
beginning definition. Also his firm legs weren't those of a child any
more. Under his armpits, two tufts of hair betrayed his degree of
maturation. His dark nipples, his hollow belly, were pleasant to view.

Herve's glance wasn't yet coloured by sexual desire, in fact the young
man was still a virgin in spite of his nineteen years of age. But he was
fully conscious of one thing - he found the male body at least as
beautiful as the female one. He hadn't really seen many of either kind,
except in the art reproductions in his books? besides the body of his
father with whom he used to take a bath before his death.

One day, during the common bath, Herve playfully brushed his father's
member and the man gently pushed his son's hand away, telling him it was
a little annoying to be touched there. But soon after, the child saw
that his father's member was becoming longer, bigger, and rising up, so
he asked to his father what was happening.

His father had him sit in front of him in the water and explained to
him, "You see, Herve, the penis has three uses. You already know one of
them? What is it?"

"Peeing?" the child answered, rather self-assured.

"Rightly so. But it has two more uses that you will understand better
when you are grown up - to feel pleasure and to sire children?"

"To sire children? With the penis? You made me using it?" Herve asked
amazed, pointing at his father's penis.

"Of course - you see, when it becomes hard like now, your dad can slip
it inside a slit that mum has between her legs at the place of the penis
and, kissing and caressing each other all over their bodies, and
brushing it in that slit, both your mum and your dad will feel an
increasing pleasure until from the penis spurts out something like a
white liquid filled with invisible tiny seeds. If one of these seeds
manages to reach the love nest of the mum and meets a tiny egg, so tiny
to be invisible, the seed and the egg unite and it gives birth to a
child who for nine months grows in mum's womb and finally comes out?"

"This is why mum had such a big belly before my little sister was born?"

"Yes, that's exactly so."

"And also for me you put a tiny seed in the love nest of mum?"

"Yes, of course."

"But you put your seed only two times?"

"No - putting one's seed in the woman one loves doesn't give birth to a
child every time. But one puts it there as a gesture of love? and thus a
child can be sired, but this is decided by the good Lord, not by the
couple. Anyway, putting there the seed is a love gesture and also gives
great pleasure, as love always does?"

"But why did your penis become hard now? Mum is not here with you."

"Sometimes it becomes hard by itself, sometimes just touching it,
sometimes because I am close to mum." the father gently explained to
him.

"But earlier you told me that it was annoying if I touched it, and then
you told me that touching it gives pleasure?" the child pointed out with
extreme logic.

"It does bother if one doesn't intend to make love."

"But you don't love me, dad?"

"Of course I love you, but love between parents and children is
different, it is not expressed using one's penis."

The child nodded - the explanation was sufficient for him. But he looked
in fascination at the still hard member of his father.

So in the end he said, "May I touch it just once? It is so different
than before?"

His father seemed hesitant, but then said, "All right, but this will be
the first and the last time, agreed? And just for a very short time?"

The child stretched out his hand, brushed it gently, than seized it and
lightly squeezed it - it was warm, firm, shuddering?

He looked his father in the eyes and the man smiled and gently said,
"That's enough, now, Herve."

The child nodded and withdrew his hand, then asked, "Mine too will
become like that?"

"Of course, but in a few years, little by little. All of your body is
growing, therefore also your penis will grow and mature, until it will
be able to produce the tiny seeds. When you are totally grown up, it
will be time to start thinking to find you a spouse to whom you can give
your love and therefore also your seed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, dad. So I too will sire my children and you will become a
grandfather?" the little boy said nodding.

His father hugged him and said, "And I will be happy and proud of you."

The only naked man he ever saw and could touch had been his father. His
father's body seemed to him really beautiful, be it when his member was
soft or that time he saw it hard and erect. He would never forget that
magic moment of special intimacy.

Afterwards, at least until he went to the boarding school, he never
happened to see a naked man. Really not even at the boarding school, to
say the truth, but when they went to take a shower after the sports
activities, even though they had to shower keeping on their underpants,
he could see the half-nakedness of his mates, and coming out of the
showers with their underpants wet and adhering to their skin, he could
notice the shape and size of his companions' attributes. They then had
to wear a bathrobe and to change their underpants under it so that
nobody could see their nudity - one of the overseers was always present
to be sure that the rules were respected.

When he was fourteen, in the boarding school, he had his first sexual
pseudo-experience. He often had hard-ons, but he simply waited for them
to subside. He also experienced some wet dreams, but he didn't care as
he already knew that his body was just maturing.

One evening one of his classmates whispered to him, "Do you know? If you
are in your bed at night totally naked and take the sheet off of you,
then with one hand you caress your body and with the other your thing,
you will gradually feel like you're in heaven, and at the end a white
milk comes out? So you don't soil your underpants or your nightgown or
the sheet? you kill two birds with one stone."

"Yes, I know." he answered, recalling to his father's explanations.

But he really didn't know anything about the fact of caressing oneself,
alone - he always thought that it was something to be done in a couple?

So, that same night, he tried it - after the night overseer passed for
the last time, he pulled away the sheet, undressed and started to caress
himself? At first it was faintly agreeable, but then the pleasure
increased, increased even more until, with a set of spasms, his hard
penis trembled against his belly and unloaded with a set of really
agreeable contractions and spurts. He remained still for some moments,
breathing heavily, gradually relaxing and he thought that it should be
really wonderful doing it mutually with the one you love. I love you so
much that I want to take you to heaven? come? he was thinking.

After that night he did it often, and gradually came to know his body,
to understand where and how to touch himself to increase the pleasure,
how to do to lengthen or shorten the pleasure or to make it more
intense.

He thought, "Well, I now know well two of the uses of the penis. I have
just to experience the third one - to sire a baby? But I will get to
that also, I just need to be totally grown up?"

When he was masturbating his brain was totally empty, agreeably white,
no images accompanied his lonely night performances? at most, at times,
he recalled the image of his father in the bath tub who was looking at
him with his beautiful smile filled with love while he admired his
adult, mature, manly body. It wasn't a sensual image, but just his model
- one day I too will be as beautiful as he was, the adolescent was
telling himself while was masturbating with growing skill.

Herve was looking at Roland's body and thought that the boy was
gradually taking shape and that he would become a handsome man. He
suddenly felt the desire to stand up, to approach him and to touch that
naked torso to feel its freshness and firmness. At this thought he felt
something awaken between his legs, push under his clothes. He didn't at
once connect that as a cause and effect - after all Herve was still a
na•ve young man, in spite of his nineteen years of age.

Roland was still dressing. "Do you have to look after me even while I'm
washing myself?" he asked, vexed.

"Look after you? What are you saying? I just like to be in company,
that's all. And possibly also to talk a little with you?"

"I don't feel like talking." the boy curtly said and went to sit at the
other side of his desk, opened the book that was on it and immersed
himself in reading it.

Herve looked at him amused - a hard nut to crack, that kid. The nice
mane of blond hair, somewhat rebellious, fell on his forehead hiding his
green-blue eyes. The young man bent a little to read the book title -
"Robinson Crusoe", he read; he didn't know that book, he thought it
wasn't French literature?

Suddenly the kid raised his eyes from the book and looked at him, "In a
short while it will be supper time. You will eat in the kitchen with the
personnel, as all the other governesses always did?"

Herve smiled but didn't correct the boy - if he was amused to call him a
governess, he could do as he pleased.

Roland went on, "I instead will have my supper in the dining room, of
course."

"Very well. What will we do after the meal?" Herve gently asked.

The boy knit his eyebrows, "After supper? After supper? I will come back
here to read my book. You can do what you like." he answered almost
peevishly.

"All right. But do you read all day long? Don't you practice some
sports, don't you ride horses? Don't you have some other amusements?"

"Not after supper, anyway." Roland dryly answered and plunged himself
again into his book. He then raised his eyes again and, with a
challenging expression, said, "Why are you going on talking to me with
such familiarity, while I'm correctly formal with you?"

"And why are you keeping on being so formal with me while I'm informal?"
the young man retorted in his same tone, mimicking him, then added in a
normal tone, "We are just five years apart?"

"But with a different social status, it seems." the kid sharply
retorted, but saying so he blushed - evidently that wasn't a point he
really cared about.

"But I am as stubborn as you are?" Herve responded in a soothing tone,
smiling to him in a friendly way.

Roland resumed his reading, without deigning to look at him or to speak,
until the supper bell rang.

"You can go, now." the boy sharply said, standing up.

"Thank you for the leave, Your Serene Highness!" the young man answered
with an amused expression, standing up in his turn and making him a
caricature bow.

He went downstairs to the kitchens.

When they all were at table, the other staff plied him with questions -
where are you from, how old are you, where does your family live, and so
on. Herve answered with gentleness and with a smile, but his head was
elsewhere. It was upstairs, in the dining room - how could he manage to
tame that kid? If he just managed to make him burst into laughter, half
of his work would have been done - the main channel of real
communication passes through good laughter.

Thus, he suddenly asked, "How is the young master?"

This sudden change of subject caught everybody unawares.

The butler said, "He is still a young boy, but he has character."

"He is not a bad boy? he behaves with all us, just with the governesses?
he got up to all kind of pranks?" the elder cook said in an affable
tone.

The younger cook giggled, "Yes, really all kind of pranks? Just think
that he peed on Mademoiselle Juneaux, who practically raised him after
the poor Madame Laforest's death?"

"Well, it's not so uncommon that small children wet themselves while on
the knees of somebody?" Herve said.

Everybody giggled and the young cook said, "To wet himself while he was
on Mademoiselle knees was just a starting point. No, no, he really peed
on her head, I mean. One evening, while Mademoiselle was reading in the
sitting room, he silently glided onto the small table holding the
porcelain cups that was behind her, without making any of them fall
down, opened his trousers and sprinkled on her, on her hairdo, her neck,
her back?" and saying this she laughed almost convulsively.

"Well? I'll be careful to never sit so that I have a table behind me?"
Herve murmured, amused also at the thought of that terrible prank.

"No way, he has grown up, now." the gardener said shaking his head.

"Yes, yes, grown up for sure," declared Josette the housemaid with a
malicious expression, "he his maturing, at least down there!" she added
pointing to the groin.

"What do you know about that?" the coachman retorted.

"I know, I know, ah I so know! More than one morning I found his
nightgown with an unmistakable stain right there in front, at the right
spot! It's evident that the young master does?" she said and, stopping,
she made a clear gesture waving her hand.

The young cook giggled.

Herve gave her a withering glance, "Even if it is as you say, it is not
up to you to make public the private life of the young master. You have
to keep for yourself what you come to know because of your duties." he
said in a hard dry tone.

The housemaid giggled, "Oh, but just here between us? I am not going to
tell it out of here, am I?"

"That would be the last straw!" the butler said, "And anyway mister
Herve is right, this is gratuitous gossip that you would be better not
to do."

"Uuuuh, such fuss! We just talked about the pee on Mademoiselle, didn't
we?"

"But that was something already public, as Mademoiselle told it to us.
The tutor is right. Even if it's true that he seeks his pleasure with
his hand, this is something private that is not up to you to disclose."
the coachman said.

"Even if it's true, you say? Of course it's true, the smell was
unmistakable!"

"What do you know about its smell, as you aren't yet married?" the
gardener asked her with a soft malice.

The housemaid, caught at fault, blushed.

Herve then said, "Anyway, it could have been just a nocturnal
ejaculation."

"Ejacu? what?" the cook asked, knitting her eyebrows.

"At times, and mainly to adolescent boys, the seed comes out
spontaneously while sleeping. It is a normal phenomenon. It is also
popularly called a wet dream." Herve explained.

"Did they explain that to you at school, or?" Josette slyly asked.

"Of course, in the biology courses." the young man serenely answered.

"Oh my God, what a conversation! Can't we please change the subject?"
the coachman said, looking with embarrassment at the young cook who was
silent but was literally drinking in all these explanations.

"Anyway, you will have a lot of trouble with the young master. We will
see how long you can endure it?" Sophie, the older cook, said.

"I will stand everything, I will, don't doubt it!"

"You seem very self confident," the butler said, "so much the better."

"It is not conceit, believe me. You see, I too became an orphan when a
child, therefore I have very much in common with the young Roland. I
think I can understand him. So he too will understand me. Moreover I am
a man like him and I am just five years older than him - all very good
trumps to play. And I will play all of them, be sure." Herve said at
mid-voice, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to the
others.

"Well, my best wishes!" Sophie said standing up then, addressing the
younger cook, said, "Come, Danielle, and help me to clear up."

"I've to go and fetch the master." Alain the coachman said.

Also Herve stood up and, after saying good night to everybody, went to
his room - he just had an idea?

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3

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In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to
read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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