Date: Sun, 25 Apr 2010 08:56:51 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Montsabot Charterhouse 03/15 (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 3 - Attempts to make an opening

As he entered his bedroom, Herve took a chair and climbed on it to take
down the flowered window curtains, then took off the bedcover made of
the same fabric. He chose some of his clothes in the wardrobe and some
belts. He took off his jacket, trousers and shirt and, wearing only
undershirt and underpants, he brought everything into his sitting room.
He locked the external door to be safe then, standing in front of the
threefold mirror of the dressing table, he started to work...

He folded, draped, fixed checking the result in the mirrors. It could
work, but something was missing. His eyes noticed the lace doilies on
the armchair, on the dressing table and on the low table and decided to
use those also to give a finishing touch to his work and also to make
some kind of headdress. He looked at himself on the mirrors and smiled -
he could pass for a country spinster dressed in an old-fashioned way...

Happy with his work, he opened the door and went to knock at Roland's
room.

"Who's there?" the voice of the boy asked from inside.

Talking in a falsetto voice, Herve answered, "I am the new governess,
Mademoiselle Quicasse..."

"The governess? What do you want?" the belligerent voice of the boy
asked.

"To become acquainted with you." Herve answered trying not to burst in
laughter.

"We have for that time tomorrow... moreover I already have a tutor, you
don't have to take care of me..."

"Come on, let me in - it is not worthy of a gentleman, talking with me
through the door..." Herve chirped.

"It's open..." Roland said in the tone of who is about losing his
temper.

Herve went in and stopped near the door as it was in semi-darkness,
different from the other parts of the room.

"So, then?" the boy belligerently asked.

"I heard that you are a really handsome boy and so I wanted to be sure
of it in person... I also heard that you are rather cantankerous..."

"Well, now that you have checked, you can go."

"Oh, you already dismiss me? I hoped to get to seduce you..."

"To seduce me? What the hell are you saying?" Roland said, looking at
him in a rather frowning way.

Herve saw the boy's expression rapidly change as he recognised his tutor
- amazement, a flash of amusement, then studied coldness.

"Come on, Monsieur Brout, what is this masquerade? Aren't you afraid of
being ridiculous?" he sharply said.

Herve laughed and took away the laces from his head, "No, I'm not at all
afraid to be ridiculous." he self assuredly said.

"Oh, no? And why?"

"Because only one who is not self confident fears ridicule."

"And you are self confident."

"Beyond any doubt. My value cannot be jeopardized by a joke, by a
masquerade."

"Your value... how valuable are you?"

"It is up to you to discover that, before judging me."

"I don't intend at all to discover it."

"But you asked me how valuable I am." the young man said in an
insinuating tone.

"Your... joke is childish."

"But you fell for it."

"Only because there isn't enough light... and anyway I recognised you."

"Only because I didn't have enough time to disguise and to put on
make-up in the best way."

"Do you like to wear women's dress?" the boy asked in a despising tone.

But Herve could feel that the contempt was just a pose - he could read
that in the boy's eyes there was flickering, barely held back, laughter.

"I like making jokes, like any young and healthy people who are
intelligent and with a sense of humour. As I know that you are too..."

The boy didn't say anything.

Herve did a parody of a bow and, again in a falsetto voice and in a
melodramatic tone, said, "Ha, I see that you have a stone heart, I
abandon you! I will go and shut myself in a monastery and will pray for
you. Farewell!" and went out of the boy's room, slipping hurriedly into
his own room.

He took off the curtains and put them, nicely folded, in the closet,
intending to give them back to the housemaid the day after.

But just when he was slipping inside his own room, Monsieur Laforest,
who was just back home, saw a feminine figure furtively enter the room
that was governess's and that now housed the new tutor.

"The young man is quite busy - he just arrived and already..." he
thought, slightly amused.

He took off his hat and handed it, with is gloves and walking stick, to
the valet. He then went upstairs and knocked at the tutor's door.

Herve, who hadn't seen or heard that the master was back home, wearing
just his underwear, thinking it was Roland, went to open the door with a
smile. When he recognized the master, he at once assumed an embarrassed
expression. The young man's clothes and the smile suddenly changed to
embarrassment, only persuaded the man that the tutor was about engaging
in an amorous encounter.

"Sorry to disturb you while you... have visitors, but..."

"Visitors? No, there is nobody here with me, I was just going to bed..."

"Right, to bed... I am a man of the world, I understand you, at your age
the blood runs faster..." the man said with a knowing smile.

"Monsieur, I can assure you, there is nobody with me. You can come in
and check in person, if you don't believe me..."

The amused expression of the man changed into a cross expression but he
didn't insist, "I don't need to. I just wanted to ask you if you already
met my son."

"Yes, certainly."

"And? No problem?"

"As you warned me, I can't say he accepted me, not yet, at least."

"I see. But do you think to be able to carry on your duty?"

"I am certain, Monsieur. Even though I can't predict how much time it
will take..."

"I hope you are not wrong. We will see if I am investing my money in a
good way, having hired you." the man said and with a good-bye gesture,
he went downstairs again.

The young man's denial that he had a guest in his room upset him - he
would have appreciated a frank confession, worthy of a man and between
men.

He called the valet and asked him, "Has any stranger entered here after
the new tutor came?"

"No, Monsieur."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely certain, Monsieur."

So, then it would be one of the maidservants, the man thought. He
therefore summoned all the villa personnel and saw that none was
missing... The man, confused, asked himself, "Can I have been mistaken?"

The staff, summoned so late, was looking at him, in a row and in
silence, asking themselves what their master had to say to them. The man
became aware of that silent wait.

Monsieur Laforest cleared his throat and said, "Good, I just wanted to
inform you that for the moment we don't have a governess, but that I
will hire a new one as soon as possible. Meanwhile the valet will assume
her duties. You can go, now. Thank you." he concluded and went again
upstairs to his rooms.

The servants looked at each other puzzled and Sophie murmured to the
others, "And he gathered all of us just to tell that? We already knew
that..."

The housemaid whispered, "He is just becoming old..." and went away,
careless of the black glance of the valet.

But Roland's father was not yet satisfied; the thought that his son's
new tutor dared to introduced a girl into his room, evidently a
stranger, as all the girls of the staff were there on the ground floor,
at this point bothered him quite a lot.

He called the butler and ordered him to carefully lock all the doors to
the outside of the villa, until further notice. He then went once more
upstairs at a resolute pace, and stopped in front of the door of the
young tutor. He was about to knock but stopped, asking himself if it
would be right... Was it possible that he was mistaken? If he asked the
young man to let him check the rooms and there was no stranger, what a
figure would he cut? Moreover this would be to start off on the wrong
foot...

He decided to leave it and went away.

Meanwhile Herve had finished taking off all the curtains and laces and
started to try to give the two rooms a little less feminine and
frivolous aspect, and went to bed, to read a good book before sleeping.

Roland in his room was rethinking the masquerade of his new tutor with a
mix of amusement and of annoyance. What was the name he invented when he
said he was the new governess? Mademoiselle... Quicasse! The Miss who
bothers! The boy couldn't help but giggle - the tutor had really chosen
an appropriate name.

He hadn't yet had time to study the guy that well... but he had to admit
that he was possibly a little better than having a governess at his
elbow, another embittered spinster, nosy and conceited...

Anyway, if the guy was under the illusion that he would make his life
easy, he was terribly wrong. Well, if he remained there, they could even
establish some kind of truce... an armed truce, of course... Anyway he
seemed to be a funny chap, or at least not as boring as the governesses
he had had... What a crazy idea he had to disguise as a woman! Yes, at
first he bought it...

The following morning Roland went downstairs to eat breakfast with his
father.

"How come your tutor is not here with us? Is he still sleeping?" the
father asked him.

"No, I saw him coming downstairs. He is having breakfast with the
personnel, as the governess used to do." the boy answered.

"No, no, he should eat at our table, with us, with you... a tutor is an
employee, not a servant, is a man of culture... is a man..."

"A man! That guy is just five years my senior!" the boy interrupted him,
surly.

"Roland, don't refer to your new tutor saying that guy! He has a name,
he is Monsieur Herve Brout."

"All right. But why should this Monsieur Herve Brout eat at our table?
He isn't part of our family, this Monsieur!"

"Well, our guests aren't part of the family, but for that we do not send
them to have their meals in the kitchen, do we?" the father retorted,
somewhat annoyed, "Anyway I so decided and so it shall be done, starting
from today at lunch, even if I'm not at home."

"Even if? You are almost never here for lunch... and often neither for
supper..." the boy complained.

"A good reason to have Monsieur Brout at our table... he will keep you
company."

"I would like to be the one who chooses my company."

"When you are of age, you will choose them. For the moment it's up to me
to decide." his father cut short. He then added, "Now you will go to the
kitchen and tell Monsieur Herve Brout that from now on he will eat here
with you... with us. Hurry up!"

The boy stood up with a dark face and went to the kitchen. As he entered
all the staff in a chorus greeted him, "Good morning, Monsieur Roland!"

Only one voice, loud and clear, was out of the chorus, "Oh, hi Roland,
did you sleep well?"

"I came just to tell you, Monsieur Herve Brout, that by the order of my
father from today at lunch you are required to have your meals with us
in the dining room."

"All right. But you didn't answer my question..."

"Which question?" the boy asked, frowning.

"Did you change your underclothes, this morning?"

"You didn't ask me that! You asked if I did sleep well!" Roland surly
answered back.

"Ah, so then your hearing is fine? Why then did you pretend not to have
heard?" the young man asked him with an angelic expression.

Roland blushed slightly but kept silent.

"I'm still waiting for your answer..." Herve quietly insisted.

"I answer only when I feel like it!" the boy answered, annoyed and left
the kitchen.

"Then try to get the feeling of giving an answer soon, or else you will
pass for deaf or dumb!" Herve said to him aloud, in a merry tone.

"Monsieur Herve, you are not going to have an easy life with the young
master..." Sophie said.

"And neither him with me... you will see that I will make him
surrender... it is just a matter of handling him in the right way and of
being patient enough." Herve answered with a wide smile.

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

Finally the two rooms where Herve lived assumed a look more in
accordance with his personality. With Roland the "armed truce" seemed to
work, even though Herve was going on calling him just Roland and the boy
calling him Monsieur Herve Brout. But differently than with the
governesses, Herve was also helping the boy in his studies and Roland
couldn't help to be struck by the culture of his young tutor and by his
skill in explaining different matters to him.

Moreover, they gained the habit of going, at least once a day, to do a
tour riding their bikes in the wide park that lay at the back of the
villa, as a break in Roland's studies. The boy had a brand-new bicycle,
Herve used an old one he found in the garages and that, according to the
valet, was used by nobody.

They pedalled along the paths in the park, until they reached the higher
part of it, separated from the wood that covered that part of the hill
by the tall wall covered with tiles and with oval windows with a black
and gold grating every five meters. Up there, at the centre of a
clearing, there was a big alder surrounded by a ring of stone benches.
From there one could enjoy the panorama of the old town that sloped down
towards the river.

"I've heard that my mother loved to come here..." one day Roland said.

"You can't remember her, can you?" Herve asked him in a low voice.

"No... I know her only thanks to the pictures... and what at times the
staff says about her... I would have liked having known her. She was
really beautiful, do you know?" the boy said in a tone of sad nostalgia
in his voice.

"I... I have a very vague memory of my mother..." Herve said in a soft
tone, looking at his shoes' tip and inconsistently thinking he had to
shine them.

"You too don't have your mother any more?" the boy asked in a tone
slightly veined with sympathy.

"And neither my father... they all died in an accident when I was ten
years old. Also my little sister with them; she was just seven years
old. And yet, I remember my father very well... I was very close to
him... yes, very, very close..."

"I still have my father, and yet..." the boy murmured and shook his
head. "And yet..." he resumed saying, but his voice faltered and became
silent.

Herve looked at him and felt a strong stirring of emotion towards the
boy. He felt they were two lonely souls, even though he had been able to
recover from his loneliness and had been able to build a serene life for
himself, at times even a merry one. Roland on the contrary seemed to be
forever immersed in his melancholy.

"I have to make him smile..." Herve said to himself, looking at him with
the corner of his eyes.

"This villa, this estate... belonged to my mother. Her father had it
built, when Napoleon gave him the title of Count of the Empire."

"Both the villa and the park are really beautiful..." Herve said, trying
to assume a carefree tone, hoping to divert the boy's thought towards
more happy thoughts.

"A useless, wasted beauty..." the boy commented.

"Beauty is never useless and never wasted. What would the man be if he
wasn't able to see and to enjoy beauty?" Herve asked, trying to give a
light tone to his voice.

"But what's the use of beauty if you can't share it with somebody?" the
boy then asked.

"You... in some ways... you are sharing it with me." the young tutor
suggested looking at him with a smile.

"Between you and me there is only a work contract. We have very little
to share, you and I." Roland said, suddenly hard, looking straight into
his eyes with an almost challenging expression.

"And yet... you can't avoid sharing your beauty with me, to make me
enjoy it, willingly or not. Therefore, you see, in spite of all we are
sharing something..." Herve lightly retorted.

"My beauty? We were talking about the villa, the park... Don't change
the subject!" the boy said, frowning.

"And why, pray, should I not change the subject? Who can stop me? You?
You can avoid listening to my words, you can possibly even stop me from
saying them, I don't know how, but you can't prevent me from thinking
them, feeling them, looking at you and enjoying your beauty! At least
about this, man is free, nobody can take away from him this freedom."

"Do you consider yourself a free man? Don't you think that freedom is
utopia, pure illusion?"

"If this utopia, this illusion as you say, helps me to be happy, why
should I chase them from me? Anyway, no, I don't think so. Freedom
doesn't mean to do anything we like, but means remaining oneself in one
way or another. Remaining oneself, in spite of any clothing we have to
wear, of any role given to us, any mask we are forced to wear."

"Also if you disguise yourself as a governess to pull my leg." the boy
ironically concluded.

"Also, why not?" Herve answered, glad that the boy recalled his joke
right at that moment. "Also under those funny clothes made out of old
curtains and lace doilies, there was anyway me, Monsieur Herve Brout!"

"Don't you think it was not at all dignified behaviour for you,
disguising yourself in that absurd way?"

"Also dignity, like freedom, doesn't lie in exterior appearances. In the
Holy scriptures it is written that King David danced totally naked in
front of the Ark of the Covenant, and when they told him that he was not
behaving in a dignified way, he just laughed and went on dancing without
worries, entirely naked."

"A naked man... naked in front of the others, cannot be dignified!" the
boy declared. "What would distinguish a king from a beggar, if it were
so?"

"A naked man... naked in front of whom he loves, naked for love, is
wearing the most kingly of the clothing, however. If he is a king or a
beggar, nothing changes. David so much loved his God that he offered him
his nakedness, he therefore undressed himself, in front of God, refusing
all the useless frills of royalty."

"I have to concede that you have really original points of view,
Monsieur Herve Brout, and in contrast with public morals..."

"Thank you for your appreciation."

"I didn't say at all that I appreciate you because of this..." the boy
retorted, somewhat dryly.

"It's true, you didn't say it... you were possibly just thinking it."
Herve gently said.

"Are you claiming you can read my thoughts?" the boy asked
sarcastically.

"No... but I would like to be able to."

"Oh, really? And why?"

"To get to know you better... to pierce that absurd shell with which you
are protecting yourself from me."

"I don't need at all to protect myself from you. You aren't dangerous."

"I really hope not to be so... and not to be so for you."

"You really are a peculiar person, Herve."

Very slowly, the boy was starting to open up with him, mainly when they
were under the big alder where nowadays they were going to have a rest
almost every day. Nonetheless, Herve hadn't yet seen the boy smile, even
though at times it seemed that a smile was peeping out of Roland's eyes.
The boy was continuing to be very formal with him even though he ceased
calling him "Monsieur"É it was a small step forward. Thus Herve decided
it was worth doing something to make the boy assume with him a less
formal, less distant and less cold attitude.

They were again up there in the clearing, they had leaned their bicycles
against the trunk of the big tree and were standing side by side,
looking at the wide panorama lightened by the warm sun of mid-afternoon.
They just stopped talking about the plans that the boy's father had
about sending him, after high school, to study at the Sorbonne in Paris.
Roland seemed to be thoughtful.

Herve decided he wanted to see the boy laugh, at least once. Thus he
suddenly turned towards the boy and, without a word, started to tickle
him.

"What are you doing!" the boy protested stepping back and looking at him
in amazement.

"I want to see you laugh!" the young man declared seizing his arm and
going on to tickle him.

"NoÉ noÉ stop itÉ" the boy said trying to wriggle away, but wasn't able
to hold back laughter.

"Good, you seeÉ you are way more beautiful when you laughÉ" Herve
declared, going on, unperturbed. "Don't you feel much better if you
laugh just a little?"

"EnoughÉ enough, stop it!" the boy protested.

A kind of struggle began; the boy, in spite of the fact that he was
trying to assume an annoyed expression, was laughing. He writhed but
Herve wasn't giving him respite. Roland lost his balance and fell on the
grass, unintentionally dragging his young tutor on top of him and Herve,
to keep Roland from to escaping him, blocked him with his legs and arms
and went on to tickle him.

"EnoughÉ stop itÉ" the boy was going on to say amidst fits of laughter,
but his eyes were shining with a light that Herve never saw before, a
beautiful light, incredibly beautiful.

Herve's face was above that of Roland, almost touching itÉ with a slight
move, the young man lowered it, put his lips on those of the boy and
kissed him. The boy was wriggling under him, trying to escape that kiss,
that body weighing on him, but more and more weakly. He could feel his
young tutor in top of him, around him, everywhere, and Herve's tongue
inside his mouth was searching for his tongueÉ A fire invaded his entire
body, an intense warmth, a sensation of dizzinessÉ a very sweet
weaknessÉ

They both, almost at once, became clearly aware each of the other's
excitation that they perceived through their members, that at once swell
and hardened and that now were pushing through their clothes against the
body of the other oneÉ

This awareness made all the strength flow away from Herve's body but
gave instead to the boy the strength to free himself, to stand up and
run to his bicycle. His face reddened, his hair ruffled, his eyes
burning like from a sudden fever attack, the boy looked towards Herve
who was slowly standing up.

"You should not do that! What seized you! You should not! How did you
dareÉ" the boy yelled, mounted his bicycle, and pedalled headlong down
towards the villa.

For a moment Herve remained there on his feet, confused, panting, almost
trembling from the intensity of the emotion that had seized him. He went
to his bicycle but leaned against the tree. Right, what seized him? How
dared he? Of course he shouldn't have done itÉ why did it happen? If
Roland hadn't escaped himÉ (this thought struck him like a revelation)
he would have undressed RolandÉ he would have kissed him all over his
body, breathing in his youthful freshness, savouring his warm
excitation, he would have caressed him all over his body that he felt he
desired with a sharp painÉ he would even (even!) have tried to unite to
himÉ to carnally unite to him!

What seized him? How dared he?

MoreoverÉ now Roland had all the good cards in his hand to have him
fired, to free himself from his tutor much faster than what he needed to
get free of his governessesÉ chased away with dishonourÉ he would lose
his job and possibly he would never find another oneÉ but above all, he
would lose Roland! He would lose his RolandÉ "his" Roland?

Herve was used since his childhood to be honest with himself, and so now
he had to acknowledge, to admit to himself, to accept thatÉ he fell in
love with Roland!

He fell in love!

And he had just lost him, forever, with dishonour.

He could try to deny what happened, but this would not have been worthy
of him. No, he could not deny, he could not search for justifications. A
man is such also because he assumes the responsibilities for his
actionsÉ

Even though at first he planned everything but that. Even if at the
beginning his intentions were totally alien to thatÉ but thenÉ that
kissÉ and the strong arousal that followed, feeling the boy's body under
his own bodyÉ But since when was he in love with Roland? And how could
he not be aware of it before?

Of course, if he were aware before, he would have avoided all thatÉ He
could well understand that it was senseless, a man has to fall in love
with a woman, marry her, make childrenÉ he can't fall in love with
another man, everybody knows thatÉ And yet, he now knew it, it happened
just soÉ He did fall in love with Roland, with a boy!

To Herve this was not a problem of religion, of morals, and even less of
lawsÉ he simply didn't ever have to face that problem before, he didn't
have criteria to measure it, to understand itÉ Herve was a virgin, and
not only physically but also for what concerns the desires, sexuality in
general. Differently from Roland (even though he didn't yet know it) he
never masturbatedÉ

This complete virginity was anyway an advantage to Herve - in fact he
didn't feel filthy, wrong, different in discovering he was feeling
desire and love toward the boy. He simply took note inside himself that
it was something possible, as it just happened. Something unforeseen,
never thought of before, but something possible, or to better say real.

While his body was finding back the calm, also his mind was putting
again his thoughts in order.

What he just felt had been beautiful, he didn't have doubts about that.
Now to him Roland was way more than just a boy he had to care for, he
was finally a person worthy of being lovedÉ But at the same time he knew
well, as the Jesuit fathers explained it to their students, that such a
love is not allowed neither by religion nor by societyÉ

It was beautifulÉ but it was not allowedÉ

For a moment Herve forgot the problem of his job. He sat on a bench and
started to reflect. There was, at present, something much more important
than his job, of the scandal, of all the rest - he had to make a basic
choice.

It was beautiful, but it wasn't allowed.

But Herve was a sound young man, not only in his body but also in his
soul, he was sound, clever and honest. He therefore understood that it
was not important if it was something beautiful or ugly, allowed or
prohibited, he had to understand if it was right or wrong.

But what makes something right or wrong?

To decide about that he could neither base it on his personal
experiences nor on experiences of other people, but only on the values
he absorbed along his young life and thank to his studiesÉ

Right - is defined as a thing, an action or a behaviour corresponding to
justice; it is said so of something corresponding to truth; it is said
so about something appropriate and suitableÉ

Justice is based on the respect of the others' rights, and truth is
something authentic, genuineÉ Desire is right when it is not prejudicial
to the others' rights; love is true when it is not selfishÉ

"Therefore, is it right for me to love and to desire that boy? Yes, as
long as I respect him, as long as I don't pursue my, but his pleasureÉ
Anyway it is not right if I impose on him something he doesn't wantÉ
Roland asked me how I daredÉ right, it was not fair I allowed myself
something he didn't wantÉ he asked me several times to stopÉ this is
where I have been wrong. Yes, I wasn't wrong in desiring him, in loving
him, but in imposing on him my feelingsÉ and now I have to pay for the
consequencesÉ and I will pay!" Herve concluded.

He took his bicycle and went down, walking, towards the villa, ready to
undertake his destiny. He for sure was not the kind who throws a stone
then hides his hand!

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

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 4

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