Date: Sat, 18 Sep 1999 18:19:56 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: Goldfinch-12

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

GOLDFINCH
by Andrej Koymasky Copyright 1999
written the 3rd of April, 1986
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Tom (chap. 1 to 4)
by Gilles (chap. 5 to 17)

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

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"GOLDFINCH" 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 TWELVE

The journey was long and tiresome, as he had foreseen, but less for the
miles they ground out, and more for his eagerness to arrive quickly. The
closer he came to his destination, the more Patrick felt a kind of
urgency, an unutterable longing growing inside himself. And trepidation.
Almost insensible to the alternation of unknown and often fascinating
landscapes, for most of the time the young man was lost in a sea of
thoughts, of fantasies, of projects. At times he was sure of it -- his
love returned, and would finally bloom from that encounter. His
memories, and above all Kutkhay's letter confirmed it. At times though,
he felt uncertain, he had the fear of having deceived himself. Possibly
the boy just felt better in his service than now, and just for that he
wrote him... Or possibly he was just affectionate to him, grateful
because he had saved his life. "But," he told himself, "even if it is
so, I am in love with him, I need him, therefore I have to take him
away, with me, all the same. And anyway, he asks it of me." One moment
he felt convinced, and another hesitant, in an alternation of hopes and
fears, of sweetness and worry. He read the letter again, he analyzed
each of its words, he turned its content over his mind for a long while.
He tried to read between the lines, to interpret it in all possible
ways...

Ulysses and Long Jack sensed that their master was different than usual
but they didn't know, didn't understand the reason. So, when they were
in his presence, they kept silent, slightly worried because of that
unusual, different, strange behavior.

At last, on the evening of the sixth day they reached their destination,
They stopped in a hotel downtown and Patrick, after taking a room,
refreshing himself and changing his clothes, asked the hotel owner where
he could find the residence of lawyer Hogwood and if he had already
moved. Hearing that he was still in town, he felt relieved. He felt like
running at once to look for his Goldfinch, but it was late and it would
not have been correct to appear at that hour, especially without being
announced. He wandered for a while around the house he had searched out,
in the naive hope of seeing, or being seen, by the boy. But all the
lights had been put out. He resigned himself to go back to the hotel and
wait for the next day.

On the following morning, at an appropriate hour, he sent Long Jack to
the Hogwood house with his card, asking to be urgently received --
without explaining the reason of his visit, just that it was on
important business. He waited with impatience for his servant to come
back and each minute that passed seemed to him an eternity. He
continually looked at his turnip watch, opening its cover and nervously
checking the time, then closing it with a sharp click. In front of his
hotel there was a bank associated with his wife's. He crossed the
street, went in and asked to see the manager. He introduced himself,
showing the man his credentials, and enquired about Mr. Hogwood Junior.
The manager willingly supplied the information -- he was a good client,
correct, and it was said he was starting upon good political career. He
was not really wealthy but had no financial problems. He had a somewhat
austere character, but was a real gentleman... Patrick returned to the
hotel, afraid that his servant had already returned with the answer, but
he saw him coming from the end of the street. He went to meet him and
Long Jack gave him an note in answer to his request. He opened it
feverishly. It was brief: "I will be pleased to meet you this afternoon
at four o' clock, at my home, for tea."

About six more hours... He went back to the bank and again talked with
the manager. He explained briefly the reason for his visit to that town,
naturally without going into details but asking for his advice. The
manager said that, if the slave had been sold without his authorization,
he could demand to have him back, and advised him to see the federal
marshal with a copy of the missing person report he had made at that
time, and ask the marshal to accompany him to Mr. Hogwood's house. But
Patrick refused -- Mr. Hogwood had certainly bought the slave in good
faith, so he simply preferred to buy the boy back. The director pointed
out that Mr. Hogwood could refuse to sell the slave. They discussed the
matter for some time but at the end Patrick decided that, before
attempting the legal ways, he would try to get his slave back with a
gentleman's agreement. He returned to the hotel for lunch, then walked
around downtown a while, waiting for four o' clock, trying to calm the
agitation that pervaded him.

Kutkhay was out on his errands, and even passed in front of the hotel,
but their paths did not cross. So, when Patrick, punctual, showed up at
Mr. Hogwood's house, the boy was absent. Patrick rang the doorbell,
thought that it could be his Goldfinch who would open it, and waited,
his heart in his mouth. But it was another servant who appeared. He was
shown in and the lawyer welcomed him. They introduced themselves with
the usual formal greetings, he was led to a drawing room where Mrs.
Hogwood was introduced to him, and tea was offered. Patrick had a great
desire to come at once to the point, but etiquette forbade him to do so.

At last the lawyer asked him: "In your note you asked to meet me
urgently for important business..."

Suddenly Patrick felt calm. While he was talking, he had an idea that he
put at once in practice.

"Yes, Mr. Hogwood. You are a lawyer and I need your legal advice on a
really delicate problem."

"Tell me..."

"Well, please understand that I had a slave who was really important to
me. Without my knowledge, during my absence, my father sold him to a
slave merchant. This man sold him to a gentleman who is completely
unaware of the problem, therefore having bought the slave in full good
faith. But I want my slave back. What do you advise me to do in order to
have him back?"

The lawyer, who was bending slightly toward him to listen, leaned back
against the back of his armchair and smiled.

"The case is rather simple, Mr. De Bruine. The sale is not legal, as it
is a good that was taken away from you without your being aware of it,
and it has been alienated against your will. If the actual owner of the
slave is, as you told me, a gentleman, he will understand the situation
and will be ready to find a remedy to this illegal deed. But at the same
time, your father would have done better to have repaid the gentleman in
question himself."

Patrick nodded, then asked: "But if that gentleman, for whatever reason,
didn't want to deprive himself of this slave?"

"Well, in that case it would be necessary to start a civil suit, and if
you have proof to substantiate your claims, you would certainly win it.
And the gentleman could not even ask for a refund."

Then Patrick, looking the lawyer straight in the eye, with a slight
smile, almost if he wanted to apologize for the small trick, said: "Yes,
I have legal proof. But, you see, Mr. Hogwood, the gentleman in
question, who was until now unaware of this problem... is you. And the
slave is my slave, of a fair skin, called Goldie..."

The lawyer, for an instant, lost his professional smile and looked
Patrick straight in the eye, making sure he was serious, then relaxed
and with a barely hinted at smile, said: "You are really astute, Mr. De
Bruine... anyway, all I said remains absolutely true."

"Please, forgive me my subterfuge, but it is really very important for
me to have that slave back. I am of course ready to refund you any sum
you paid for him."

The lawyer thought a moment: "Certainly. To me it is a big loss, as the
young man was more of a secretary than a simple slave. He is a precious
element and I am really sorry to lose him. But I understand that for the
reasons why I would like to keep him, you want to have him back."

"I am ready to repay you abundantly, Mr. Hogwood."

"It is not so much a question of money. Goldie was a present from my
father in law... Anyway, it is settled. Goldie is out now on some
errands. When he is back, I will tell him what has happened and see to
it he is ready. You can send for him this very evening, let's say at
seven o'clock, if it is a convenient time for you."

Patrick felt deeply relieved at the easy solution of the problem: "Thank
you very much, you really are a gentleman. About the repayment: if you
agree, I suggest this possibility -- I know you are moving to the
capital; buy the best slave you can find, fit for the tasks you have to
give him, and whatever price you have to pay, you have just to go to a
branch or an associate of my bank and you will receive the needed sum. I
will give you a payment order and will at once send instructions to that
purpose, if you agree. Or, if you prefer, we can establish a price now
and go to the bank in front of my hotel..."

The lawyer nodded: "You too are a real gentleman, Mr. De Bruine. I
prefer to accept the first solution you proposed, if it will not be a
burden to you." he answered standing up.

Patrick stood up, asked for paper and pen, and wrote a trust payment
order. Then, just before taking his leave, he asked with a smile:
"And... may I know what is your fee for the legal advice you have so
kindly given me?"

This time Mr. Hogwood laughed with gusto and made a gesture to forget
it. They bade farewell and Patrick returned to his hotel feeling light
and happy. One last wait and then... It had been much more easy then he
had foreseen.

Kutkhay returned home and his master was notified to that effect. He
summoned the boy.

"Goldie, you have to go immediately to prepare your luggage. Put in it
all your clothes and your belongings. This evening at seven you have to
be ready to leave."

"We are moving now, sir?" the boy asked, taken aback.

"No, not we, only you."

"I am sorry, sir, but I don't understand..." the boy said, then,
suddenly stiffening, he asked with a low, hesitant voice: "Do you mean
that... that you sold me, master?"

"Yes, I sold you to a gentleman who is really eager to take you away
with him." the man said, studying the boy's expression.

"You are not happy with me, master?" the boy asked with a mortified
expression.

"No no, I like you very much, boy. But this gentleman convinced me to
give you up to him. Because... he is your former master, who lost you
against his will, and who seems eager to have you back in his home..."

For a moment Kutkhay felt confused and a vise grasped his stomach, as he
thought it was the brothel master who had succeeded in tracing him; but
then a timid hope rekindled itself in him, and with trembling voice he
asked: "Master De Bruine?"

"Yes, in person. Go prepare yourself, he will send for you in a while."
the lawyer said looking at his turnip watch.

"At once, master!" Kutkhay exclaimed, and hurriedly ran upstairs to his
room.

His legs were shaking, he felt completely upset, he was so happy he felt
like crying and laughing at once, for the joy and the emotion -- his
young, dear master at last had sent to take him back, he didn't forget
him, he still wanted him... He made a parcel with his clothes and his
drawings -- it was all he possessed. He tied it with a string and went
downstairs. The big pendulum clock on the entrance hall showed eleven
minutes before seven. A short while later a coach stopped in front of
the house door. Long Jack got out and rang at the door. Kutkhay was
about to open it, but Sem preceded him.

Long Jack said: "In behalf of massa De Bruine, I came to fetch Goldie."

"Wait a moment, I'll call the master."

Kutkhay was shuddering with impatience, but didn't move. Mr. Hogwood
came and gave his assent. Kutkhay bade good bye and went out following
the mulatto slave. As soon as Kutkhay left the door, Patrick leaned out
of the open door of the coach -- the young man looked with an emotional
smile at the boy.

He simply said: "Come..." and waved him inside the coach with him.

The boy looked quietly at him for a moment, then went down the stairs as
if in a trance and climbed inside the coach, unaware of the look on
Sem's face, watching the scene, astounded that a slave went inside the
coach with his master. Long Jack took the luggage from Kutkhay's hand,
shut the door, climbed up with Ulysses and the coach started at once.
The boy was not yet seated -- he was standing in front of Patrick
looking at him with eyes glossy with emotion, unable to utter a single
word as his throat was as if tied in a very tight knot... When the coach
started, Kutkhay lost his balance and fell on Patrick who, at once,
instinctively, welcomed him into his arms and held him tight.

Then, his face brushing the boy's hair, his voice broken with emotion,
Patrick whispered: "At last, Goldfinch" and gave him a light kiss on his
forehead.

Then the boy girdled his master's waist with his arms; sliding on his
knees between his legs, he leaned his head on Patrick's stomach and two
tears rolled down his cheeks. Patrick sweetly caressed his hair, and his
back, then pulled him up against himself, and on impulse he kissed the
boy straight on his mouth. At first their lips barely brushed, then they
pressed, opened in an intimate kiss, warm, deep, very sweet. Patrick's
caresses became more daring, more insistent and even if he were
repeating to himself that he should not surrender to the desire he felt
for the boy, even if he tried to hold back, a terrible excitement seized
him. Kutkhay felt the young man's awakening desire, felt his erection
growing and pushing against him through their clothes, and at once
responded in the same way, overjoyed that his master held him in that
way. Little by little they came even closer, adhered one to the other,
to feel and make known to each other what they were feeling.

The coach left the town and rapidly took the way home. After two hours
of travel there was a post station where they would stop to spend the
night. Patrick and Kutkhay were now half stretched out on the coach
seat, forgetful of everything, conscious only of the other's presence
and of the reciprocal desire gradually manifesting itself, at first
almost shyly, then in a more and more strong, explicit, clear way. Now
their hands flew all over the other's body, searching, feeling,
continuously caressing and their senses were all intent on telling the
joy of that encounter and all the desire that was flooding them.

"Goldfinch, I... I am in love with you!" Patrick murmured, at this point
incapable of any prudence, sinking his face between the boy's shoulder
and the neck.

Kutkhay let out a sob, then answered, his voice broken with emotion:
"Oh, Patrick, sir, me too, me too, I am mad for you, I love you... I
love you since ever. You came to take me back, at last -- don't leave me
ever again, please!"

"No, I swear it... I needed so much time to understand I was in love
with you, but now I know it, I am certain and I don't want to lose you
ever again, ever again. Especially now that you told me you too are in
love with me!"

The mutual desire was at last manifesting itself, without any more
hesitation. Patrick started to unbutton the boy's jacket, then hisshirt,
and was now directly caressing the bare skin of Kutkhay's chest and
back, and the boy was all aquiver with pleasure. Then the boy dared to
do what he had desired forever -- with his hand he reached to test the
consistency of his master erection and anxiously awaited his reaction.
The man pushed tighter against the boy and kissed him in the mouth. Then
Kutkhay hesitated no longer, and started to unbutton Patrick's trousers.
They gradually opened each other's clothes until they were half naked,
and their bodies could touch each other without hindrance. They were
both deeply moved, happy, lost in a sea of really sweet emotions.

Despite the truly strong mutual desire, despite their close embrace --
their clothes no longer an obstacle --, despite their now uncontrolled,
more and more intimate, caresses, they did not reach complete union. 
When emotion is too strong it can become difficult to reach a climax,
perhaps because one confusedly feels that bringing the passion too
rapidly to fruition leads to the cessation of those so sweet effusions.
And both, unconsciously, perhaps did not want that magic moment of
reciprocal discovery to end, that moment so longed for, dreamed of,
desired, and now, finally, real, tangible, wonderful. Even if, three
years before, their bodies had touched, now it was different -- now they
were discovering each other, they were learning to know each other, they
were exploring in an unceasing frenzy of pleasure. At times physical
excitement unavoidably leads to the point of no return where it becomes
impossible to control one's self. But when it is a different excitement
that takes control, when the reciprocal desire, although physical, is
overcome by the spiritual and emotional desire for the other, then it is
not a problem of self control, but rather natural and spontaneous to do
all possible to prolong those contact moments where everything occurs in
unison, all is harmony and sweetness.

They gradually recovered their composure, at the same time noticing that
the coach was slowing down and the first stop was nearing. Kutkhay sat
near Patrick, who put his hand on the boy's cheek and whispered: "How
happy I am to have you again with me!"

"Me too, sir... I never stopped believing you would come to take me
back."

Patrick wanted the boy to tell him in full detail all that happened to
him during those three years. Kutkhay had just started when the coach
stopped in front of the post house.

"You will tell me later. Now let's get out, eat and have a rest. The
journey is still long. But we are no longer in hurry."

Getting something to eat and briefly washing up, Patrick asked for a
room for them, while Ulysses got the horses ready for the night. The two
fresh lovers went upstairs to their room. Still half dressed, they lay
down side by side on one of the two beds, Patrick clasped the boy,
holding him against his body, and asked him to resume his story. While
listening, he gently caressed him, as if to compensate him for all the
misadventures that had occurred to him, for all the bad experiences
through which he passed, and as the narration continued, and Patrick
interrupted him with questions, exclamations, thoughts, their caresses
became more and more intimate. At last Kutkhay could freely caress that
body he so much desired. Night had fallen, and only the kerosene lamp
still lit them.

The narration ended, and Patrick started to kiss his beloved. They
gradually undressed each other, feasting their eyes, their hands, and
their excitement bloomed again vigorously. Now they could no longer
postpone it, each needed the other. Kutkhay omitted nothing in his
narration, not even his numerous sexual misadventures, or adventures.

So Patrick whispered to him: "I... it is my first time making love with
a man -- you have to lead, my Goldfinch. Won't you?"

"With the utmost pleasure, sir."

Patrick put his finger on the boy's lips in a tender gesture of silence,
gently smiled at him and said: "No, you never again have to call me sir,
and you should never again call anybody master, from now on. I love you
and I want you always at my side and I want you to call me just Patrick,
as it has to be between lovers. Do you promise me?"

Kutkhay looked at him with luminous eyes full of love and murmured: "I
will try... Patrick. But I always thought of you as my only, true
master..."

"All right, then I too will call you master." the man said with a smile,
caressing the boy between his legs.

"No way, that is not possible. It would not even be right... It was me
that gave myself to you, there on the ship, when you took me with you."

"When two are in love, each one belongs completely to the other, soul
and body. I am now giving myself to you. Therefore, if it is true I am
your master, now it is also true that you are my master. Therefore, just
call me Patrick -- between you and I from now on there will be no more
differences, if it is true that we love each other."

They kissed, and their bodies intertwined tightly, giving and receiving
mutual pleasure, until Kutkhay pulled his lover to him, offering himself
to him, guiding him, and begged, his voice hoarse from the excitement:
"Take me... please?"

Patrick let the boy guide him, and when Kutkhay saw the expression of
intense pleasure bloom on the beautiful face of the man he loved while
he was sinking inside the boy, the boy felt he was in paradise.

After a while Patrick stopped moving back and forth inside his boy,
pulled away from him, and at his turn offered himself to Kutkhay,
whispering: "Now it will be you to make me yours, Love."

So Kutkhay plucked the young man's virginity, spying the expression of
his lover and beloved. When he saw the man give in a joyful smile while
Kutkhay was slowly opening his way inside him, when he felt the young
man grinding his butt against his groin and moaning with pleasure,
Kutkhay abandoned any hesitation and started to take him with sheer
enthusiasm. Even if it were the first time for Patrick, he was so eager
to have his beloved boy inside himself, that he completely relaxed, and
the boy could conquer the untouched love channel without difficulty.
While Kutkhay was steadily pushing his tool back and forth inside the
man, their mouths united and their tongues passionately started to play.
The boy stroked the man's hard nipples. Patrick moaned in ecstasy and
reciprocated. They changed position several times, untiringly giving and
taking from each other the maximum pleasure.

When at last they lay down, panting, sated, Patrick, caressing his
beloved said: "Do you know? It is wonderful making love with you. It is
the first time I feel such wonderful emotions, so strong, so complete.
It has nothing to do with the intercourse I had with my wife. This is
really making love, as now there really is love binding us."

Kutkhay became stiff and tense for a moment.

Patrick felt it and worriedly asked: "What's up, my love?"

"Are you... are you married?"

"Yes, but nothing changes. I love you and want to live with you."

"But... and your wife?"

"She doesn't like the physical intercourse. I presume she is frigid. You
will alway be my only, true, real lover and you will always live at my
side, don't worry."

"But, will she accept that?"

"I will tell her and if she wishes, I'll divorce her."

"But I don't want to be a hindrance to you. I..."

"Shush, love, shush. You are not, you will never, ever be a hindrance
for me."

They talked for a long while. They had a thousand things to tell, to
narrate, to ask each other and each of them wanted to know everything
about the other, because when one is in love, he desires to know
everything, even the most trivial details, the smallest thoughts,
everything about the other.

In the morning, the first to wake up was Patrick, who admired for a long
while his lover's body, by daylight -- it had ripened in those three
years, he was more beautiful than ever. He thought that only a few hours
before, he intimately knew that body, he had taken, enjoyed it. He
thought with pleasure that he welcomed inside himself that beautiful
member that was now lying languidly between the well shaped thighs, that
he gave himself to that boy... He caressed the wonderful body of his
Kutkhay and covered it with small kisses filled with tenderness, until
he woke him up.

"It is time to get up, my beloved." he whispered.

Kutkhay looked at him with eyes filled with joy: "But then... I didn't
just have a dream!" he exclaimed merrily.

"No, certainly not. It is all true, real -- we are at last together, we
are finally united."

They got up and dressed. Patrick observed him: "You look good, dressed
like that. We will make you a nice wardrobe. You should not cut a poor
figure. I want you always elegant, everybody should admire your beauty."
he said caressing him.

They resumed their journey. Patrick told Ulysses that there was no hurry
now. He wanted to enjoy the return trip. Inside the coach they continued
to talk and to caress each other, to kiss, and both were in ecstasy with
the nearness of the other. They stopped at the crossing of a stream of
fresh and pure water and went out to bathe. They entered the water
completely naked and went upstream playing, splashing each other,
laughing merrily like two carefree urchins. At a certain point Patrick
became aware that they were far enough from the place where the coach
had stopped and the two slaves were waiting. Where they were now, nobody
could see them.

So, he shyly said to Kutkhay: "Listen... I want to make love again with
you..."

"Yes, come..."

"Here in the water?"

"Why not? We will not have many chances to do it like this. Come..." the
boy insisted with a warm inviting smile.

To Patrick, making love was like entering a completely new world,
unexplored, where he was venturing for the first time, but without any
hesitation, rather with enthusiasm, trusting the lead of his beloved.
The chill of the water made the length of their union last longer, but
the current lapping their bodies burning with desire, increased the
sensuality of their caresses. And here Kutkhay made his lover discover
the intense pleasure of oral intercourse, which they consumed with
enthusiasm. Sated, even if only for the moment, they went back, happy.
Near the coach they dried themselves, dressed, and then resumed their
journey.

At last, after several days and many stops, after days and nights of
intense unions, they reached villa De Bruine. Henrietta was not at home.
Patrick ordered his old bachelor's room, it was in front of his present
bed room, prepared for the boy. Then he gathered all the servants and
introduced them Kutkhay. Some of the slaves already knew him, but not
all of them.

"From now on Goldie is a member of my family -- you will obey him, all
his orders, as if they were from me, is it understood? Until Goldie
chooses a personal servant, Long Jack will serve him as he serves me."

Later Henrietta came back home with little Mike. Then, entrusting his
son to the governess, Patrick asked his wife to follow him into his
study.

"I need to talk to you, Henrietta. Have a seat, please."

Slightly surprised, the woman looked at her husband and studied his
unusually serious expression, but said nothing and sat in front of him
with composed grace.

Patrick gathered his thoughts, assumed all his strength and started:
"What I am about to tell you is very delicate and important; therefore,
I pray you to listen without interrupting. At the end, if you like, you
may ask me all the questions you wish, and tell me your opinion.

"Henrietta, you have in front of you a man at last fallen in love. But,
unhappily, not with you. I have always felt for you, and feel now, a
liking, affection, respect but, as you know, never love. Our marriage
was decided upon by our families, and although I never opposed it, I did
not desire it. I want it to be very clear that in everything I telling
you there is not the slightest intent to accuse or complain about you.
You have always been kind, gentle and correct towards me, and I am
grateful to you for that. But I am now in love with another person
and... it is difficult to tell you what I have to tell. You cannot
possibly understand me, nor I can simply ask you to accept this new
situation. Therefore, if you want it, if you think it fair, I will grant
you divorce or separation, as you decide..."

His wife, presuming that Patrick had said everything, intervened: "My
dear husband, you have always been frank with me and I thank you for
that. You too always behaved correctly with me and, what is even more
important, with our son. You have always been a caring husband and an
affectionate father, and there is no reproach that can be made of you.
It is true, our marriage was born and consolidated without our loving
each other. It is neither your fault nor mine. As to the fact that you
are now in love with another woman, this does not amaze me; rather,
after all, I was expecting that sooner or later this would happen. I
certainly cannot blame you for that, as I have never been able to give
you love. As you said of me, I, too, admire, respect, have high esteem
of you, and am affectionate toward you, but I do not love you. Rather, I
am sincerely happy that you had the luck to have found real love. Not
only I was not able to give you love, but I gradually alienated you from
me, because I never participated... I never showed enthusiasm or...
pleasure..." The woman lightly blushed and lowered for a moment her
eyes, then resumed, "... well you understood me. As for this, it is not
your fault; I never could take pleasure in physical intercourse... I
tried to carry out my wife's duty as is proper, but I could never
pretend to feel what I absolutely did not feel. I always felt very good
near you, always, beside those moments. I think you became aware of
that, and I thank you for never having insisted and claimed what you
have the right to claim, being my husband, and also for having never
thrown it in my face. Therefore, if you want a divorce in order to marry
the other woman, I understand, and I will do nothing to make it
difficult for you..."

"No, Henrietta, I don't intend to marry again, I could not, even if I
desired it, wanted it. This is not the problem. And I, too, feel good
near you..."

"I do not understand, then. If the problem is not about continuing to
live under the same roof..."

"Forgive me, Henrietta, but I asked you not to interrupt me, because it
is difficult telling you... It is possible that you can accept the
thought that I have a lover; even continuing to live together, if for no
other reason, than for our son's sake. Society shows us many such
exemples. But what would you say if you knew that the person I love is
living under your very roof?"

Henrietta looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then hesitantly asked:
"Is she one of our slaves? No, sorry, who she is should not concern me.
The only thing I would fear, will be a scandal. But if you really love
her... if nobody else knew it, if you were truly discreet..."

"No, the problem is... the problem is different. The fact is that... I
do not know how to tell you..."

"Come on, Patrick, it seems to me that you already said most of it."
Henrietta gently said.

"No, the most of it, as you say, is yet to come. The fact is that I am
in love with... with a boy, with a male. And he, from now on, will live
here and to me it is important that he be considered my peer by
everybody. There, I said it. Now I have really told you everything. You
can tell me what you decide to do now.

Henrietta looked at him seriously, with a slight frown. After a long
silence, in a low voice, she said: "Well, now it is for you to listen to
me without interrupting. I had a cousin, George, the son of my father's
brother. We were both only children and we were deeply affectionate, we
grew up together, we were more than brothers. We always confided to each
other all our secrets.

"When I was seventeen, one day George confided to me that he was in
love. He was in love, yes, with a boy, a school-mate and he was really
troubled about it. He told me that he did all he could not to surrender
to this impulse that our society condemns, but the other boy was also in
love with him and insisted. What happened between them just once, in a
moment of weakness, continued. He was confused, sad, and asked my
advice. I loved my cousin, as I said, like a brother and seeing how much
he was suffering in that situation, since he could not follow his
inclination, I also suffered. I told him that if theirs were true love,
they ought not give weight to what our society of respectable people
says, I told him that true love is always a wonderful thing, and that
therefore he had to love and to accept being loved. George was hesitant
at first, torn, but at last he followed my advice. I saw him again
merry, I saw him bloom again, and I was sincerely happy for him. Several
months of that happiness passed. I met his lover -- he was a really
sweet boy, very good and deeply in love. It was a pleasure just seeing
them together.

"But one unfortunate day, his lover's father caught them in an intimate
attitude, unmistakable, and it was the end of the world. He went to talk
with George's father, revealing everything to him. The two boys were
separated, and my uncle was really severe with George. But my cousin
rebelled, told his father he would never ever renounce his life because
of the hypocrisy of people. A terrible period began. Not even I could
see George any more, but with the complicity of a slave we exchanged
notes, and he told me about his determination.

"George's lover, unable to suffer being separated from George, and not
able to bear his father's contempt, committed suicide. My cousin,
anguished, threw his lover's death in his father's face and there was a
furious quarrel. My uncle chased away from home George and disinherited
him. My cousin came secretly to bid me farewell -- he decided to
emigrate to Europe and to change his name. I begged him to remain, but
he was determined -- he could no longer stand the thought of remaining
here. After that day, I had no more news about him, not even after my
uncle died.

"Thus, you see, don't be amazed if I tell you that I can understand you.
Just allow me to say one thing -- our society is wicked, cruel, or
rather evil. Be careful, do it in such a way that no one is aware of
your choice, protect your love... If you wish me to leave, I shall. But,
possibly, if it is not too much of a burden for you, it would be better
if I remain at your side, in this house with you, to shelter you just
with my simple presence.

"Moreover, also for our little Mike it would be better to continue
having both his parents near him, don't you think? Mike loves you very
much, he needs you, your love, your cares. Therefore, if your lover
lives under this same roof, it does not create a problem for me. The
only problem that might arise between him and me, could be a question of
character, personality. But I hope we both are adult and civilized
people, and so would be able to adapt to each other's presence. I can
only promise you that I will do my best to ensure that no problem will
arise.

"If not love, I have affection towards you -- I would wish that you, at
least, were happy, that you would not have to undergo all that destroyed
my cousin George's life..."

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 13

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

http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/

If you want to send me feed-back, please e-mail at

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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