de Balzac). Boarding school for broken hearts and lost illusions (about the novel "Father Goriot" O

The time in which the action of the novel “Father Goriot” unfolds is 1819. The scene of action is the poor suburb of the French capital, the lower part of the Rue Neuve-Saint-Genevieve, the boarding house of Madame Vauquet. “There is no more terrible quarter in Paris,” the writer notes, and begins his novel with a description of this quarter.

The houses here are gloomy, the walls are painted in a dirty yellow color, the bars on the windows of the first floors resemble a prison, creating a dreary and gloomy mood of hopelessness. “The most careless person” “becomes sad” when he is in this quarter. This feeling is intensified when the reader enters a four-story house with an attic, built of limestone and painted in the same terrible yellow color, the dull reflections of which shyly cover up miserable poverty.

The boarding house of Madame Vauquet is one of the last refuges of destitute people who cannot pay for a more tolerable shelter, Balzac leads us through the intricate labyrinths of "this realm" of poverty. We enter the dining room, which "was once painted some color, but it is now elusive and serves only as a ground on which dirt has accumulated, painting it with a bizarre pattern." The walls are decorated with "vile engravings, from which the appetite disappears ... the long table is covered with oilcloth, so dirty that the merry freeloader writes his name on it with just a finger ... "

Balzac is a master of precise details. And in the descriptions, and in the portraits of the heroes, and in the remarks thrown in passing, one can feel the hand of an experienced artist. The description of Madame Vauquet's boarding house would not be complete if the reader, almost physically, did not feel the special, sticky, stagnant, carelessly pinned hair; the widow walks, sniffing and wagging her worn-out shoes. On her fat, shabby face, a nose sticks out, straight out of the middle, like a parrot's beak; chubby arms, a body that has grown fat like that of a church rat, an overly voluminous swaying chest - everything is in harmony with this hall, where sorrow oozes, where greed lurks and where Madame Vauquet inhales the warm, stinking air without nausea. Cold, like the first autumn frosts, the face, the eyes surrounded by wrinkles express all the transitions from the fake smile of the dancer to the ominous frown of the usurer ... "

And, finally, a casual remark by the author unites and completes this picture: Madame Vauquet's "personality" "predetermines the purpose of the boarding school, just as the boarding school determines the purpose of her personality," for "hard labor does not happen without overseers."

In the boarding house of Madame Vauquet, in addition to the freeloaders who come, "subscribed only for lunch", seven guests permanently live - a Parisian society in miniature. The hostess, “with the precision of an astronomer, measured her worries depending on the price of the boarding house,” keeps them in a black body.

The best rooms in Madame Vauquet's house are occupied by the widow of the quartermaster commissioner of the times of the Republic, Madame Couture, and her ward, Victorina Taifer, the daughter of a banker, unrecognized by her father and trampled into poverty. Two insignificant and colorless creatures took refuge here - the old maid Mademoiselle Michono and her friend Mr. Paure - always ready for any meanness for a meager pay. Also, the fugitive convict Jean Collin, nicknamed “More cunning than death”, and the offspring of an impoverished aristocratic family, Eugene Rastignac, a student at the School of Law, also temporarily live. And, finally, the useless father Goriot lives his life, a voluntary convict of this prison, who, unlike all the inhabitants of Madame Vauque's boarding house, chose this refuge for himself.

And although the action of the novel takes place not only in the boarding house of Madame Vauquet, but is constantly transferred either to the Parisian streets, or to the theater, or to the salons of Viscountess Beausean and Baroness Delphine Nucingen, or to gambling houses and the police or even to the cemetery, the main events are localized in Madame Voke's living room. Her boarding house has some kind of fatal force of attraction, it becomes a universal territory where the paths and destinies of all the characters in the novel cross, regardless of their social affiliation. material from the site

In the living room of Madame Vauquet, Rastignac meets Papa Goriot, who turns out to be the father of his mistress, the Baroness Nucingen. Here, a young law student listens to Vautrin's cynical and, at the same time, tempting proposal for him to marry Victorine Tyfer and almost agrees to the murder of her brother. Here, the meek Quiz from Cinderella turns into a rich heiress, and the smart and amiable Vautrin turns out to be a runaway convict. And, finally, Father Goriot dies here, killed by the cold selfishness of his daughters.

So, in the novel “Father Goriot”, Madame Vauquet’s boarding house turns into a symbol of lost illusions and broken hearts, where life mercilessly grinds grain, like millstones, the weak and gives a ghostly hope to the strong - to become the master of “four million” francs.

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• details in the novel Lost Illusions

The new girl wandered blindly along the corridor, now and then bumping into the walls. Of course, the newcomer, there can be no doubt. That lost look, the articulated, loose movements of her joints, as if she not only didn't remember who she was, but also forgot how to walk, look to breathe. Oh, now she tried to turn on her right foot to the right. Funny. Diastaza didn't laugh. Firstly, it takes energy to laugh, and secondly, she remembered herself too well - like that. And the heavy, dull despair of a hunted beast. And the feeling of someone else's, clumsy body. And the painful search for memory - where? How? Who? Who?! Who am I?! Tears flowed down the cheeks of the newcomer, she tried to wipe them away, but all the time she drove her hand into her ear, then into her forehead. Diastasis could not bear this. Overcoming the terrible resistance of the air, she hobbled to the new girl and wiped her face with her white starched apron. - Thanks, - the newcomer squelched her nose. “Where… am I… we…” The answer required new efforts. But Diastase did not have to strain. A soft rustle behind her made her petrify. A harmless sound actually foreshadowed the appearance of Madame. And there is nothing worse than this in the world, never was, and never will be. Diastase's back was covered with perspiration. "What a lovely child," Madame's sweet, honey-viscous voice rang out. A moment later, she herself swam up to the girls, straight and majestic. She came so close that, if she wanted, Diastaza could look under her hat. But there was no such desire. By no means was it. Just thinking about it made my knees tremble. Diastaza hurriedly sat down in a curtsey, but Madame ignored her greeting. She studied new. "Charming, lovely," cooed Madame Cowde. “You need to be given a name, baby. She thought for a moment. The fluffy feather on the hat fluttered in a smooth wave. - I name you... Harmony! Madame exclaimed with unpleasant pathos. The new girl frowned, causing her wide eyebrows to pull together. The flow of tears stopped as if by magic. “I was called something wrong,” she said. Diastase was delighted. Usually the newcomers were instinctively afraid of Madame to the point of convulsions. And this one is debatable. - Everything that happened to you before is just a dream, - the hostess of the Boarding House said affectionately. - And now you woke up - and the dream was forgotten, it's gone, it's dispelled. It's always like that with dreams, Harmony. Newly minted Harmony crumpled the ruffles of her apron and looked at the floor. Her whole appearance showed disapproval. And Madame continued: - Only the elite, the best of the best, get into my Boarding House. Here dreams come true. Everyone is happy here, Harmony. Here everything will be as you want. Diastasis! Diastase flinched in surprise and made another curtsy just in case. - Show Harmony Boarding. You can be free until lunch. And she made a strange gesture with her hand, as if breaking an invisible thread. Then she turned and walked away, pushing the heavy silk of a gray strict dress in front of her with her knees. “I didn’t understand anything,” Harmony drawled plaintively. - Please ... And she froze with her mouth open. The swarthy girl who had wiped her face five minutes earlier was jumping up and down, waving her arms. Then she ran down the corridor to the turn and back, silently shouting some words. - What happened to you? - only Harmony could ask when her announced guide calmed down a bit. "I can be free until dinner," she panted. - And before dinner, another two hours, no less! And then three! There is no clock here, Harmony. And there is no freedom here. - What is there? - Madame Caud is here. There is also a boarding house. There are boarders, that's what it is - that is. But the main thing is Madam. And there is nothing more. - What about outside? - There is no outside. Our whole world ends with the Boarding House. Trust me, Harmony, you won't care after dinner. Well, almost irrelevant. I haven't been here very long, so I can still think a little, but I'll stop soon. Look at the final course - you will understand. - I hope I understand. She called you Diastasis, is that right? - Yes. Nobody remembers their names here. Sometimes some fragments of memories of a past life are preserved, but few and not all. And Diastase is not the worst option, by the way, there is also Curtain and Dracaena. - Can I call you Stazi? - And then what should I call you, Monya? The dark-skinned girl smiled wryly. - No, call as it should be, especially since Madame does not approve of liberties. Come on, I'll show you what I know. The girls wandered along the branching corridor of the Boarding House. “In the right wing there are dormitories,” Diastaza ranted with the air of a real tour guide. “Well, bedrooms, just don’t think of calling them that in front of Madame, she doesn’t like it.” Count the fifth door from the corner - this is ours. There is an empty bed next to me, Logic graduated not so long ago, not more than a week ago. Actually, I've lost track of the days, everything is so similar here ... They looked into the bedroom, admired the two rows of neat beds with pink quilted bedspreads, the whitest tiaras of upright pillows and polished metal headboards. Harmony clicked her tongue politely at the abundance of pink plush, blue tulle and handmade lace. Judging by the expression on her face, this barracks idyll did not cause delight in her. Then there were rooms for needlework, in which pupils in identical gray dresses and white aprons poked needles into hoops or tangled yarn with knitting needles. Some have even struggled with macrame. The pupils resembled dolls whose factory is running out. None of them paid any attention to the observers. - Some of them ... sleepy, or something, - Harmony expressed doubt in her voice. A smile crept onto Diastase's face. "They're like zombies," she whispered. “We're like zombies…” She suddenly clutched at the new girl's wrist, clenching it to her white fingers. Now her smile was more like a grin. This is how small, but dangerous predators grin. - And I, you know, and I would be sitting here if the head of the workshop had not sent me to the pantry for olive, bitch, floss. And after dinner, we'll sit there together with you, and we'll poke some pink pantaloons with a needle. And then we will return to the dormitory, squeezed dry, and we will wonder what it was. And all over again in the morning. And nowhere to go! Watch, watch while you can! After dinner, you'll be happy, you'll be sure you're saving the world, like... like this... Diastasis grimaced in pain. The new girl was frightened silent, rounding her large gray eyes. It looked like she was about to burst into tears again. - I do not remember. This, then, is from that life ... Everything connected with that ... like an ax ... I know what an ax is, although they are not here. I also know how a chair differs from a table, and I won’t carry a spoon past my mouth. But sometimes - failure, silence ... - The dolls are silent, - said Harmony. - I know. Are you sure there's nowhere to go? - Sure. Do you see the garden outside the window? - I see. And what? I will have a bruise. Diastaza let go of the newcomer's hand. She felt embarrassed about her outburst, but decided not to apologize. - It's called the Forest of the Trees. They can be seen from any window of any room of the Boarding House. From any direction. You can walk there sometimes, but no matter which way you go, you will run into the wall of the building. Did I mention that the Pension is painted gray and pink on the outside? I fell in love with walking. She did not immediately realize that the newcomer's small hand was stroking her back. Habitual, practiced movement. - You must have had a cat there before, - Diastaza grinned, and the newcomer was embarrassed. "I don't remember," she managed. But I know what a cat is. - Okay, stop smearing snot, - Diastaza winked quite friendly. - Let's go, while there is time, I'll show you one thing. I stumbled upon it by chance while Madame was away, and we were temporarily let in. In her presence, of course, I would not have climbed so far. Let's go faster! They ran from the workshop, counting the turns and trying not to knock down the flower pots. That is, Diastaza counted the turns, and Harmony tried to protect the green spaces from her still awkward movements. - Here! Diastaza shouted, breathless from running. - Wait, we're here! The new girl slowed down, gasping for air. A thick dark blond braid slapped her back loudly. - Look, I haven't shown it to anyone else. The girls leaned towards a small window located for some reason at the level of their knees. A stained-glass window was inserted into the window instead of ordinary glass. Not very skillfully made, it depicted a simple landscape: a lush green meadow, a bright blue sky, hills on the horizon, a yellow-orange circle of the Sun. But Harmonia gasped, froze in admiration. - What a beauty! she breathed. “They seem very real. What is behind this window? You know? - No. I... I was afraid to find out. Because if the Cult of Trees is there again… Diastaza shook her head. She surprised herself. She had learned in her short eternity at the Boarding House that no one could be trusted here. That miserable scraps of thoughts must be kept to yourself, that in the punishment cell, that is, in the Cabinet of Thoughts, it is even worse, you can’t even tear yourself away from the floor there, and the puddle under you stinks more and more nastily with every hour ... So why did she open up to a barely familiar girl? Why did you lay out all your fears and hopes in front of her? Perhaps because Harmony was arguing with Madame. And accepted an unspoken apology. And he knows what a cat is. And in general, instinct said that it should be so. And the instincts of the predatory little animal living inside, Diastaza used to obey. - If there is the Cult of the Trees, then there is the Cult of the Trees, - Harmony's eyes suddenly flashed with polished steel. - I think it's worth seeing. What can be done to frame it? Diastase thought. There was nothing suitable nearby. But she liked the idea, because it's not so scary to watch together. "Let's break it down," she suggested curtly. - It's a pity, beautiful-yvenky, - Harmony drawled. - Hey, girlfriend, either we find out what is outside, or we admire the pretty one. The friend hesitated for a moment. - We find out. I don't want zombies. Diastaza took a pretty little pot of some kind of balsam from the counter, squatted down and slammed the trophy against the stained-glass window. Multi-colored glasses flew out all at once from the second blow. Outside, the Bushes of the Trees were affably green. But that's nothing. Worst of all, in the middle of the only alley in Bush, Madame Caud's mushroom-shaped silhouette loomed dark. She looked out from under her incredible hat straight into the broken window. “Nam Khana,” Diastaza said with white lips. She had no doubt that the hostess of the Boarding House knew perfectly well who had caused the ruin. And that punishment is inevitable. We won't make it to graduation. Harmony clung to her shoulder, as if seeking protection. “Nothing,” said the dark-skinned girl, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Nothing, we tried. And now we are both. We'll figure something out. She wanted to repeat that “we” endlessly, like a spell. "Yes," echoed Harmony. We will remember our names. Let's take a fragment - for memory? Are you blue or orange? And now, without waiting for the interlocutor to orient in the change of topics, she grabbed two pieces from a pile of broken glass on the floor, one of which had just been the sun, and the other - the sky. She held it out on an open palm, choose, they say. Diastaza covered both fragments with her hand. It was completely optional, but she really wanted to. From below, from the palm, warmth rose, even heat; the pieces of glass seemed especially smooth compared to the slightly rusty skin, and in a moment Diastaza realized that one of the fragments was noticeably warmer than the other. “This one,” she blurted out confidently, squeezing the warmer piece of stained glass. Harmonia had a blue glass left, and she almost jumped for joy: - Great! she exclaimed, as if she had forgotten where she was and what awaited them. - I wanted blue from the very beginning! Diastaza intended to ask in her most caustic tone what could prevent Harmonia from taking at least ten blue shards anyway, if she liked them so much, but she did not have time. Something has changed. It was as if she was in two places at the same time: in the Boarding House and somewhere else. In this "somewhere else" there were no peach trellises on the walls, the flower pots were porous cobblestones, and only cobwebs hung from the dirty windows instead of openwork curtains. - You see?! she hissed excitedly. – Do you see it?! And she grabbed her companion by the hand, afraid that she would remain in the sugary Boarding House, and she, Diastaza, would be thrown into a black moldy corridor. Yes, she would have found it difficult to immediately determine where they are better off. The main thing that all the instincts screamed about was that they must not be separated. "I see," whispered Harmony. “Now at least the real thing…” The wind picked up. How the wind could rise in a closed room is incomprehensible, but it was he who drove away shreds of pale pink illusions. The wind blew out through the broken window, ripping off the brightest greenery of the garden, turning the hedge into coils of barbed wire and twisting the trunks of long-dead trees with bizarre knots. Madame Caude was no longer in the alley. Diastase screamed and opened her hand. A large drop of molten glass flopped onto the floor and spread into an amber puddle. The girls ran towards the dormitories very quickly, not even exchanging glances.

John HORWOOD
BOARD OF LOVE

Mr. Hobbs consulted his notebook again and went to
mansion. A vast courtyard, which was hidden from prying eyes high
brick fence - on the gates of this citadel was nailed a huge
sign: "Private boarding house for orphans", st. Paroel, 14.
"It seems to be here," muttered Mr. Hobbs, and pressed the bell.
An elderly doorkeeper led Hobs into the house and introduced Madame Sulba
- the mistress of the house.
Madame Sulbe's study looked more like a boudoir of a society lady than
work room. There are many paintings on the walls, one wall is mirrored, wide
the bed is covered with a pink moire blanket, a dressing table with perfume and
vases, two armchairs, a pouffe and a bureau. There was a tape recorder on the windowsill, but it
somehow fell out of the general view and was invisible. Madame Sulbe herself is smaller
she looked like the landlady of a poor pension. This gorgeous young
the Frenchwoman impressed Hobbs with her ease and cheerfulness.
“Yes, yes,” she exclaimed happily as soon as Hobs introduced himself.
We need just the kind of doctor. It seems to me that girls
please. Come to me, anyway, - she smiled.
- I am very glad, thank you for your frankness, I like you too and how
woman and as a mistress. Happy to serve you.
“So,” Madame Sulbe shot an intriguing look, “the exchange
courtesy finished. Please sit down. Let's talk about business.
She sank into a deep chair across from Hobs, and they immediately rushed to him.
into the eyes of her slender long legs, open far above the knees. hobs
I tried not to look at them.
- Do you know anything about our boarding house?
- No, nothing, except what is written in the ad.
- Wonderful.
Hobbs noticed that Madame didn't wear rubber bands. The stockings were sewn together with the shorts.
“Our boarding house,” said Madame after a moment’s silence, “
designed for girls aged 14 to 18 from poor families left without
relatives. Now I have 9 girls, but in general there will be 20. When girls
come of age, we will accommodate them to the best of their ability and
external data. Everything else you will learn in the process.
- How in terms of housing, payment and daily routine?
Madame Sulbe went to the window and turned on the tape recorder, saying into the microphone:
"Mr. Hobs John has been hired by the boarding house. He is assigned room N10
in the right wing. Meals at the expense of the boarding house without cigarettes and wine. Salary
- a thousand francs a month. Mr. Hobs undertakes to monitor the condition
the health of boarding houses, at any time of the day to provide assistance, to produce
medical examination once a week. Leaving the boarding house, Mr. Hobs must put in
fame to the hostess, where and for how long ... "

Hostess story.
In 1960 I married a stockbroker and he was 42
years older than me. As a man, he is already gone. When we got married, he
knew that he was terminally ill. I didn't really know, but I guessed that
his health is not good. So let's have a drink...
- How long did you live with him?
- If what was between us can be called married life, then
I was married exactly 120 days. She suddenly smiled sadly and,
Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes. - Doctor, pour me some rum, I
I want to drink today!
- Put a lemon?
- No, let it be pure rum ... Yes, so, - she continued after
how he drank. - 120 days, but my God, what a torture it was. You are a doctor
and you can tell everything. Usually nothing is hidden from the doctor!
- I grew up in a rich family. My father was a big businessman. I
I was brought up in the best boarding houses in Sweden. When I was 16 years old, I was
engaged to the son of a Marseille banker. I was prepared for an easy and
carefree life. But everything collapsed in 1957. Father got involved in some
dark scam with Cuban sugar. He invested all his capital in this business,
pawned all the property and went bankrupt. We remained poor. Father shot himself...
Pour more rum! .. Mother died of influenza in the same year. I was left alone.
To my misfortune, and maybe to my joy, I no longer have relatives. A
why don't you drink anymore?
- I'll have a drink later.
- No, drink now. What I am going to tell you cannot be heard in
sober.
- Is it convenient to get drunk on the first day of work?
“I thought you knew how,” she flashed her eyes angrily, “It’s a pity that
wrong. Thanks for the company, doctor. I don't delay you. you can go
rest. She went to the bureau, going through some papers, giving Hobbs
understand that dinner is over. "Shameless fool!" Hobs thought, feeling
who blushes with shame. Hobbs stood up and, bowing silently to the back of his hostess,
headed for the door.
- You forgot to say goodbye to me, dear doctor!
- I bowed to your charming back.
Madame Sulbe first smiled at the joke, and then laughed.
- You answered well. I love smart people. - She returned to the table.
and sat down in a chair. "Oh, those legs" - Flashed through Hobs's head. - Sorry
me, doctor, I got excited. No, obviously the wine is to blame. Sit down and
finish at least this glass if you don't feel like drinking too much.
Hobs sat down.
- You have such beautiful legs, I just can't get enough of them, -
he muttered in embarrassment.
- Do you like them? You can still look at them!
"Like, and will she be on checkups?" - Thought Hobs, his heart is convulsive
clogged up. Hobs was not a prude, but to see this gorgeous woman on
he did not want a gynecological chair.
- By the way, - she continued, - it all started with these legs at the age of 17. I
was a clumsy, angular girl and, moreover, with a nasty character,
so I wasn't interested. And that's when I was on the verge of death from
hunger, I was picked up on the street by an elderly gentleman, brought to his home,
let him wash in the bathroom, fed him and put him to bed. In the morning after breakfast he
said: "I don't ask you how you got on the street, and I'm not interested
your past. You do not interest me as a woman, and what kind of person are you - I
Don't know. But you have beautiful legs and it saves you. I am single and I need
good maid. You will only work on the days that I have
guests. I will warn you about this day in advance. All the rest of the time
you can mind your own business. I will not pay you money. I will buy
clothes and order a special uniform and feed you. Because to go
you have nowhere, you stay with me. That's all. The housekeeper will show you your
room." This ended the conversation. I stayed with him. And after two
day they brought me a uniform, I still have it, but it has become narrow
in the thighs and chest. I put it on and was horrified. The skirt was so short
that barely covered her panties. Monsieur Jules - that was my master's name - examined
me and found the shape great, especially my legs. I started serving
parties that Monsieur Jules threw every Saturday. They gave me a tray
ice cream or glasses of champagne, and I invited guests to freshen up and
drink up. I was not allowed to wear stockings. Looking at me, the men smiled and
they whispered about something, and the women turned away contemptuously.
What pissed me off the most was that all the women who attended these
evenings, were either outright prostitutes or kept women, but to me
treated with open disdain. One day, while delivering ice cream, I
I went into a room next to the hall, where men usually smoked. She had
it was gloomy and I did not immediately figure out who was sitting in it.
- Come to me, - I heard a female voice on the right.
I turned around, my eyes already accustomed to the gloom. Beautiful woman
reclined in a wide easy chair. Her white thigh shone terribly, and
a man's hair stuck out between her legs in a ball. I was taken aback by surprise.
- Nu that same you, give me ice cream!
I went up to her and handed her a bowl of ice cream, while I stared at her
looked at the man, with rapture and self-forgetfulness mad at the body
women. I also wanted to be caressed like that.
For the first time in my life I felt how much I am a woman. I was ready
offer myself to any man in the hall, but I was afraid that they would laugh at me
and refuse. The woman was languishing with pleasure, she began to lustfully move
back and press the man's head to himself with his hand, and he jumped and smacked, like
animal. The woman threw a vase on the tray, leaned back even more
back of the chair, her head thrown back, her eyes closed in pleasure. I
looked at the man. His eyes, burning with lust, gazed unblinkingly at mine.
legs. I involuntarily made a movement with my hip, as if offering myself to him. He
jumped up. I noticed that a hard cock was sticking out of his unbuttoned trousers.
The man rushed at his partner and plunged his dick into her tormented
womb kisses. They jumped and moaned like they were condemned to death.
I could no longer look and went out, and walked for a few more minutes, as if in
fog. Almost physically feeling like inside my own immaculate vulva
includes an elastic male member. I'm all lost in daydreaming about it. Obviously,
lovers told everyone about what happened, because the attitude towards me is sharp
has changed. I was no longer embarrassed, men no longer whispered at
me, and women began to be treated as equals. Monsieur Jules did not send me
sleep after one in the morning, I served parties until at least one
of the guests remained on his feet. I realized that the apartment of Monsieur Jules -
a kind of dating house, where lovers of noisy orgies and sharp
sensations. About a month after that memorable evening, Monsieur Jules stopped by
to my room. I was going to walk around the city and was already in my coat. He
gave me a critical look.
- Today, baby, I'm giving an annual ball. There will be many new people
which you don't know. Try to please them.
The party that day exceeded all my expectations. were great
all the rooms were decorated, many people filled them. I'm out of habit
served everyone just as neatly and skillfully, but could not stand the
unbearable desire among so many copulating couples
I decided to drink a little and quickly got drunk.
Usually men didn't see me as a woman they could
have. When I went upstairs to the room next to the hall, they
turned away in disappointment. So it was this time, with the only difference
that my tipsy eyes made some impression on some. I
she chose a red-bearded guy among them and beckoned him with her finger. He was surprised and
began to look around, believing that I was calling for someone else, and when I realized that
my gesture refers to him, surprised even more, cringing from
surprises. I felt that I was in an awkward position and
knew what to do, when suddenly a slender handsome man approached me.
- I have noticed you in this house for a long time. Do you want me to take you for a ride?
car?
I silently nodded. We left the hall, quietly left the house, sat down in
luxury limousine and off we go. Driving the car with one hand, he
stroked my legs, lifting my skirt as high as possible. I didn't resist at all
perceived everything somehow vaguely and unrealistically, like a dream. An hour and a half we
rushed about Paris and during this time did not utter a word.
- Where can I take you? - Asked the man when it got dark.
- Bring your...
“You can’t come to me, I’m married,” he said, looking at me in surprise.
- Then I'll go out here ...
- Wait, we'll go to one place. Anyway, I'm not home today
I’ll get there,” the man said, turning the car around. 10 minutes later we were in
small well furnished room. Gabriel, that was the name of my new
sign, closed the door on the latch, lowered the curtains on the windows and went up to
to me.
- Take off your clothes, we're at home here. You can take a bath.
- I already washed today, - I said and began to take off my coat.
He helped me undress and invited me to the table.
- Would you like a drink? I agreed. Half an hour later I was drunk.
Gabriel told smutty jokes and kissed my feet, which made me
felt extraordinary pleasure. He took off my stockings and stroked mine.
thighs, then he took off my panties. I did not resist and was ready to
everything. He knelt down in front of me. "Here at last is the head of a man
me between my legs," I thought with lust, thrilled by the
passions. "Will he kiss me?" - I thought, not daring to move, to
touch his head with your hands. "Take off everything," he said suddenly, impetuously
jumping to his feet. We stripped naked and looked at each other for several minutes.
friend, enthusiastically enjoying their nakedness. "Come to me," he whispered.
For some time we stood embracing, not daring to budge, not in
the strength to cope with the trembling that gripped us. Gabriel's hard cock rested on me
in the abdomen below the navel. His thigh pressed against my pubis. Every touch
every slightest movement of his body gave me untold pleasure.
I was mad with delight and, closing my eyes, buried my face in his hairy chest.
"Ariane, honey, I like you" - he whispered and his hands slid down my
back to the buttocks, slid over the hips and converged at the bottom of my stomach...
Madame Sulbe fell silent, dreamily smiled somewhere in the distance. After
looked at Mr. Hobbs, smiling, asked:
- Are you still listening?
- Certainly.
- Not tired? Well, what! ... Maybe omit these sexy
details...
- No, no, they give, in my opinion, a special flavor to your story. Yes
And besides, I don't see anything wrong with that...
- All right, pour us some more wine, let's drink and continue. Will you drink
together with me?
- With pleasure!
“What were those hands!” Madame said admiringly, closing her eyes from
sweet memories. - When his fingers touched my flesh, I experienced
such a piercing pleasure that she involuntarily twitched her whole body,
convulsively clenched her legs.
“What, you don’t like it,” he asked offendedly ...
"On the contrary," I answered, panting with excitement. - It too
ok, I'm not used to it yet. He smiled. - Lovely girl, -
he said softly, kissing me on the lips. It wasn't that kiss yet.
which women lose their minds and burst into flames. But for me and
that was enough. I collapsed into his arms with a groan from the sweet
exhaustion. Gabriel carried me to the bed, put me on top of the blanket and
began kissing my body frantically, my girlish breasts, my angular
shoulders, my sunken belly, my thighs and finally I felt the heat of his lips
on her unopened rose. We were in a frenzy, the whole world
all people disappeared and there was no life anymore, there were only two crazy flesh,
merged into one kind of frantic crazy celebration.
When I woke up, Gabriel was sitting next to me, dressed.
- Are you going? I asked in a weak voice.
- You have to relax. I didn't know you were a girl. I love you completely
tortured.
- No, it was great! It's great that you made me a woman!
Thanks, dear.
Gabriel kissed me and left, and I fell asleep.
I returned home the next day in the evening, when the bruises disappeared.
under the eyes. Monsieur Jules met me in the hall. It was clear from his face
that he was very worried about me.
"It's all right, Monsieur Jules," I told him, "I'll put on your Piqué."
"Crazy child," he said, and shook his head softly.
I went to my room and, without undressing, went to bed. I am everything
was still filled with some sweet languor and delight. It seemed to me
that a part of Gabriel is still in my flesh. This feeling was
so strong that she even touched herself with her hand. I did not fall asleep
undressing. The next morning, I took a bath and took Pique from the table.
It was a funny thing. The triangle itself was made of some kind of elastic and
elastic material. The outer lining is velvet. Internal -
rubberized nylon. The pear was quite an impressive size, and I
base was afraid that such a thick one would not be easy for me to insert, but further
it proved not only difficult, but almost impossible. The pear was doubled
wider than my hole. She tore the lips of my vagina painfully, but all
haven't gone inside yet. Just at this moment, when I was already desperate and
decided to abandon this venture altogether, the pear suddenly passed the last tight
millimeters and easily slid inside, filling me with her impressive
mass. The white triangle, as if glued, froze on my pubis
She breathed a sigh of relief, but the difficulties did not end there. It turned out,
that walking with a pear is not very convenient, it rubbed into the vagina and all the time
made itself felt with some vague, anxious pleasure. I am somewhat
She walked across the room and looked at herself in the mirror. I had the view
pretty extravagant. The next Saturday I served guests in that
along with the difference that instead of white panties I was wearing only Pique.
The guests accepted me as an equal, men joked with me, spoke
women, I was not at all shy now. And therefore, probably,
the evening passed in an insane orgy. I served the couples with wine and ice cream. In that
the moment when they indulged in the most incredible love games, one of
guests, putting his woman on all fours, settled down to her through the ass and,
moving his whole body, he ate ice cream brought by me. Another put the woman
on the sofa and arranged a kind of table on her stomach and drank from a glass,
and after each sip he kissed her crotch. The third sat on a chair, planting
a beautiful donut on my stomach and, taking a vase of ice cream from me, began to
spoon-feed your partner while she moves her ass,
holding on to his shoulders. Men did not leave me unattended. They were crushing
stroked my thighs, rubbed their naked bodies against my thighs. Some even kissed
me in the buttock in a fit of excitement. All this gave me a lot
pleasure and boosted my promotions among men. By morning I was alone
dressed, naked men and women scurried around me, smelled of perfume and
flesh.
The spectacle of disorderly and shameless copulations produced upon me
huge impression. I experienced extraordinary pleasure and in the morning
was completely broken from multiple and fairly fast orgasms.
Before going to bed, I took out the Piqué. It slipped out easily
quickly along with a huge lump of white mucus. Two weeks later I
I felt that Gabriel gave me a child, this news upset Monsieur
Jules. He sighed contritely and, scratching the back of his head, said: "Well, Arian,
I'll have to send you to Aunt Moreau."
And they sent me to Aunt Moreau in Normandy, to a small merry
village on the ocean. For two months, the kind, grouchy old woman treated
I was fed with all sorts of herbs according to a special diet. forced to do
exercises for the chest, waist, hips and only the legs remained the same. Not
know if I was pregnant. Get rid of delayed menstruation
throwing out the baby. During these two months that I lived with Aunt Moro, my
the body has changed a lot: the hips and buttocks have grown fatter. High growth,
causing me so much grief, suddenly became especially useful, making me
slim and graceful. All my dresses had to be redone, they cracked in
chest and thighs.
At the end of July Monsieur Jules called. He inquired about my health and
asked to come to Paris. A local tailor made me a pretty good one.
traveling suit, in which I looked so elegant that for the first time in
liked life. For 2 months my hair has grown a lot and now they
fell on the shoulders in a magnificent golden cascade. On the day of departure, I went to
hairdresser and did a fashionable hairstyle.
While still in the carriage, I noticed Monsieur Jules, standing lonely in a noisy
crowd. I waved to him, but he didn't notice. I went with a suitcase
past him, he looked somehow strangely, smiled, without showing any
desire to come to me. I stopped in confusion and began to follow him.
He looked at me a few more times. Suddenly his face is frightened
stretched out, he threw up his hands and rushed to me.
- Aryan, my God, is that you?!
- Of course I am, Monsieur Jules!
"I didn't recognize you," he whispered apologetically. - You are so
prettier, matured, just amazing!
He took the suitcase from me and, offering his hand, led me to the exit. We were driving
home in a new luxury car. Monsieur Jules was already living in a new mansion on
Rue Pieri, he had a new servant. My place was taken by a young
gray-eyed girl of about 18. The housekeeper was the same, she was waiting for me
prepared bath.
Monsieur Jules led me to a new room. She was bright and beautiful
the windows overlooked the garden. In other words, everything was new. I went to the bathroom and the first thing
caught my eye, there was a small mirror at the height of human growth.
It was built into the wall just like in the old bathroom. I knew that the mirror
transparent on the other side, and through it Monsieur Jules will now observe
me. I felt funny. I'm so used to this old man that
without any embarrassment would let him look at me at any time. A
now he will watch me secretly through the mirror instead of
come in and sit next to me. I called him.
- Monsieur Jules! We haven't seen each other for so long and there's so much news that I
I can't wait to find out everything, if you are not busy, stay with me in
bathroom while I clean up and we chat. Saying this, I managed to take off my shirt
and began to unbutton her bra.
“Help me, please,” I turned to Monsieur Jules,
bewildered by unexpected happiness. I took off my bra and turned to
him. - Will you stay with me?
- Oh, of course, with pleasure, - he barely said with excitement. I
She took off her panties and climbed into the water. - How you have become prettier! Do you have such
a charming figure and luxurious breasts! I don't find words to express
your admiration. Apparently Aunt Moreau's drugs did you good,
although not everyone helps.
Yes, I had a great time there! But without Paris, I still missed it. In the world
somehow boring, empty. When did you manage to move to this palace?
We chatted for a long time about business, about his new acquaintances. He said that
prepared for me a new occupation, to which my
appearance. Then, suddenly, somehow embarrassed, he drooped silently for several minutes.
on me. It was evident that he wanted to ask me something, but did not dare.
"Aryan," he called softly.
- Yes, Monsieur Jules!
- Baby you have such a beautiful chest that I can not resist
desire to touch it with your hands. May I put one finger on it?
- God, what scrupulousness! - I was surprised. - Of course, at least both
hands. You will only give me pleasure. In his eyes sparkled
lustful lights, he jumped up from the stool and walked over to me. Its plump
short fingers gently touched my chest and squeezed it so that I
I felt only a touch, but no more. He knew how to deal with
women, his skillful caresses did not leave me indifferent. I shuddered
from a passionate impulse.
- Monsieur Jules, undress! - I squeezed out a little audibly. He silently
fulfilled my request. Contrary to my expectations, his body was not old. AND
naked he looked much younger. - If you want me, I will
location, like other women.
“You see,” he began, and hesitated.
- No, no, you don't have to tell me that. Can't I do that
do?
- You? I don't know... You probably can, but it's not that easy.

Fool who believes that life is comparable to the mechanics of a watch!

We kept the righteous fire with the purest soul,

Or the purest soul is preserved by righteous fire ...

Holy simplicity! The law of earthly love, alas, is inexorable.

Man has no power over his essence and destiny.

Nothing can change this - neither by the flame of a fire, nor by shackles, nor by prayer.

. Pension Madame Montvilliers

There were only a few versts left before the monastery of the Blessed Mary, and he, leaving the carriage with a servant in Fengjo, went on foot. He walked slowly, enjoying the hilly landscape of Languedoc, the ringing clear air of a flowering valley. The wind carried coolness from the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees, the path wound like a ribbon between the maquis bushes. He breathed deeply the aromas of spring - swelling buds and fresh grass, and, without noticing it, added a step. The magic of the April morning and the dizzying expanse inspired me. Oh, why does the sun shine so brightly!

A strange feeling stirred the heart of Michal Kerdey - until today he seemed to have not lived at all, how he accepted obedience in the Benedictine abbey of Sieciechow, how he abandoned theology and medicine at the University of Krakow, how he left his native Goszcz, and, perhaps, since came into being...

In the hope that the Lord would hear more accurately if the prayers would come from the lips of one who had renounced worldly goods, he put on a cassock and doomed himself to eternal solitude from the world. Hiding behind the shield “Ora et labora1”, he devoted himself entirely to the implementation of this motto. He devoted himself to work and prayer with such zeal that after a few weeks he collapsed exhausted, clutching in one hand the Bible, which he never parted with, in the other - a plum stalk.

The brothers found him among the beds. He took painful delirium for a joyful end, not a day passed about him, he secretly prayed to the Lord that he would grant death before being tonsured a monk. For the heart felt that it would not find rest. Never!

But no! Innocent! Consciousness returned, and with it the fear of death, shame and despair, the tormenting beast again set to work - to tear the soul to pieces, feasting on, smacking and piercing with sharp teeth into its immaterialized flesh with each time more and more force. And again attempts of resistance, again struggle, battle after battle, fight after fight with an invisible demon.

The abbot did not allow Michal to abuse the second part of the Benedictine slogan any longer, but he did not forbid listening to and heeding the words of the wise elders, who were born with the name of God on their lips and did not betray anyone to the gray hair, but what is there! - till the last breath.

With what frantic zeal the young novice rushed to study theology and translate theological works, finally finding a grain of peace in this occupation! He did not leave an hour or a few minutes to sleep, sometimes forgetting to look into the refectory at least once a day, causing the anger of his elder brothers with this negligence, and then demanding the most severe penance. Having received a long-awaited punishment, but often not as exacting as he wished, he again began to greedily absorb biographies, writings and treatises, compiling comments, additions and discussing especially important fragments for a long time with those brothers who, like him, had a great passion for theology. .

Then he took on several of his own works. On anxious nights, Mikhal did not let go of his pen, hurrying to tell the universe about the insidious and omnipresent evil spirits, about eternal human delusions, about God's excessive mercy to others who did not deserve life. He was seen only in the chapel, kneeling at the altar, and in the library, with his head bowed to the parchment, like paper, the crucifix and the altar were his only salvation, the only thing that supported the beating of his exhausted heart.

The rector looked with pity on the novice's tortures, he had sincere respect and admiration for Michal, often allowed him to read from the pulpit, so that the rest of the brothers would heed the words of the young theologian, endowed by the Lord with such a pure mind and rare righteousness, but the tonsure pushed everything away and pushed away, fearing that , not having received the desired salvation, Michal will strangle himself, and notoriety will fall on the monastery.

What was it that tormented him so much? Perhaps a Basurman origin? After all, the distant ancestor of Kerdey was the Tartar-convert Aidar Giray, who fought against the Prussian crusaders on the side of the Lithuanian prince Vitold, and then served the King of France, Charles the Wise. For valor and a warm heart, the monarch even granted three white lilies to his red coat of arms crowned with a helmet with feathers and a charming wife, a Frenchwoman from the family of Viscounts de Bezos d'Albret. Michal's ancestor settled on an estate on the banks of the Goryn River, in the town of Goshcha in Volhynia, but to this day his Mongol kinship and the shameful craft of a hired soldier have not been forgotten.

Maybe, having learned from the doctors that his days were numbered, Kerdey fell into the power of such unbridled despair? Or is he in love, poor fellow, with some beautiful, hard-to-reach pani?

But Mikhal sang death like his own sister, and did not know love, his heart was not touched by any other feeling than eternal anxiety, like a shadow, like a snake, crawling from the womb, conceived with him, seeing the light with him.

So, deeper and deeper driving into himself a ball of shame and fear studded with thorns, covering it with layers of parchment written with maxims and inspired sermons, gradually young Kerdey took on the appearance of a soulless puppet of spiritual ideas. That's what he was trying to achieve - to force the mind to be silent, and the heart to emit only quiet measured shocks, like the gears of a clock that adorned the main tower of the Krakow Town Hall.

And either because the beast was full, or the incessant prayers had an effect, but Michal soon turned into the personification of a clockwork. Some semblance of peace descended upon him. The soul woke up only with the first minutes of the vigil and fell asleep with the word "Amen" with the last extinguished candle at the hour of Compline. Thoughts were entirely directed to the service of the Lord. He did not raise his eyes, as befits a humble man, the expression of a marble statue froze on his face, his movements were constrained, and the camp was bent, like that of an ancient elder. From now on, Ecclesiastes has become a favorite place in Holy Scripture - a demonstration of despair and sadness, a song of lost hopes, a dreary call to humility. “The sun rises, and the sun sets, and hurries to its place where it rises ...” Michal repeated as a prayer, so that this simple truth would outlive other thoughts in his mind, leaving only one thing - everything is perishable, vain, empty, unreasonable .

Icons, the lives of saints and psalms with the perfection of the mirror work of the masters polished his soul, turning him into an ardent hater of worldly fornication, shame and evil in a few years. And in the whole region there was no example of more sincere repentance, indestructible chastity, a monk more selfless and meek, who wholeheartedly believed in Salvation and God's grace.

But it's amazing how easily - with just one mysterious meeting, his life turned upside down! A couple of months ago, this passionate champion of the faith was supposed to take the tonsure, but fate, like a peacock, suddenly spread its marvelous tail...

Monastic life was not too burdensome for a twenty-two-year-old man: since he was found unconscious among the seedlings, in addition to composing sermons, Michal's duties included looking after the garden, and once a week he went to Radom to the market.

On one of the bright frosty days, almost at the very gates of the city, a rider overtook the novice and, blocking the way, inquired:

- Michal Kerdey?

“So, mighty goodness,” he replied, not without surprise, barely having time to rein in the donkey, from the sides of which two voluminous baskets hung.

boarding house of love

Boarding house of love.

Mr. Hobbs consulted his notepad again and walked towards the mansion. A vast courtyard, which was hidden from prying eyes by a high brick fence - a huge sign was nailed to the gates of this citadel: "Private boarding house for orphans", st. Paroel, 14.

It seems to be here, - muttered Mr. Hobs and pressed the call button. An elderly doorkeeper led Hobs into the house and introduced Madame Sulba, the mistress of the house.

Madame Sulbe's study looked more like a boudoir of a secular lady than a workroom. There are many paintings on the walls, one wall is mirrored, a wide bed is covered with a pink moire blanket, a dressing table with perfume and vases, two armchairs, a pouffe and a bureau. There was a tape recorder on the windowsill, but it somehow fell out of the general view and was invisible. Madame Sulbe herself looked least of all like the landlady of a poor pension. This luxurious young French woman impressed Hobbs with her ease and cheerfulness.

Yes, yes, - she exclaimed with joy, as soon as Hobs introduced himself. We need just the kind of doctor. I think the girls will like you. Come to me, anyway, - she smiled.

I am very glad, thank you for your frankness, I also like you both as a woman and as a hostess. Happy to serve you.

So, - Madame Sulbe shot an intriguing look, - the exchange of courtesies is over. Please sit down. Let's talk about business.

She sank into a deep armchair opposite Hobbs, and his slender long legs, open far above the knees, immediately caught his eye. Hobbs tried not to look at them.

Do you know anything about our boarding house?

No, nothing but what is written in the ad.

Wonderful.

Hobbs noticed that Madame didn't wear rubber bands. The stockings were sewn together with the shorts.

Our boarding house, - Madame said after a moment of silence, is intended for girls from 14 to 18 years old from poor families left without relatives. Now I have 9 girls, but in general there will be 20. When the girls come of age, we will arrange them to the best of their abilities and external data. Everything else you will learn in the process.

How in terms of housing, pay and daily routine?

Madame Sulbe went to the window and turned on the tape recorder, saying into the microphone: "Mr. Hobs John has been hired by the boarding house. He is assigned room N10 in the right wing. Meals at the expense of the boarding house without cigarettes and wine. Salary - a thousand francs a month. Mr. Hobs undertakes monitor the state of health of boarding houses, provide assistance at any time of the day, perform a medical examination once a week. Leaving the boarding house, Mr. Hobs must inform the hostess where and for how long ... "

Hostess story.

In 1960 I married a stockbroker and he was 42 years older than me. As a man, he is already gone. When we got married, he already knew that he was hopelessly ill. True, I did not know, but I guessed that his health was not in order. So let's have a drink...

How long did you live with him?

If what happened between us can be called married life, then I was married for exactly 120 days. She suddenly smiled sadly and, leaning back in her chair, closed her eyes. - Doctor, pour me some rum, I want to get drunk today!

Put in a lemon?

No, let it be pure rum ... Yes, so, - she continued after he had drunk. - 120 days, but my God, what a torture it was. You are a doctor and you can tell everything. Usually nothing is hidden from the doctor!

I grew up in a rich family. My father was a big businessman. I was brought up in the best boarding houses in Sweden. When I was 16 years old, I was engaged to the son of a Marseille banker. I was destined for an easy and carefree life. But everything collapsed in 1957. My father was involved in some dark business with Cuban sugar. He invested all his capital in this business, mortgaged all his property and went bankrupt. We remained poor. Father shot himself ... Pour more rum! .. Mother died of influenza in the same year. I was left alone. To my misfortune, and maybe to my joy, I no longer have relatives. Why don't you drink anymore?

I'll have a drink later.

No, drink now. What I am going to tell you cannot be listened to soberly.

Is it okay to get drunk on the first day of work?

I thought you knew how, - she flashed her eyes angrily, - It's a pity that I was mistaken. Thanks for the company, doctor. I don't delay you. You can go to rest. She walked over to the bureau, flipping through some papers, signaling to Hobbs that dinner was over. "Shameless fool!" Hobs thought, feeling himself flush with shame. Hobbs stood up and, bowing silently to his mistress's back, went to the door.

You forgot to say goodbye to me, dear doctor!

I bowed to your charming back.

Madame Sulbe first smiled at the joke, and then laughed.

You answered well. I love smart people. She returned to the table and sat down in a chair. "Oh, those legs" - Flashed through Hobs's head. - Excuse me, doctor, I got excited. No, obviously the wine is to blame. Sit down and finish at least this glass if you don't feel like drinking too much.

Hobs sat down.

You have such beautiful legs, I just can't get enough of them, he muttered in embarrassment.

Do you like them? You can still look at them!

"Like, and will she be on checkups?" Hobs thought, his heart racing. Hobs wasn't a prude, but he didn't want to see this gorgeous woman in a gynecological chair.

By the way, - she continued, - it all started with these legs at the age of 17. I was awkward, angular girl and also with a nasty character, so I was not interested. And so, when I was on the verge of death from hunger, an elderly gentleman picked me up on the street, brought me to his house, let me wash in the bathroom, fed me and put me to bed. In the morning after breakfast, he said: “I don’t ask you how you got on the street, and I’m not interested in your past. You don’t interest me as a woman, and what kind of person you are - I don’t know. But you have beautiful legs and it saves you "I am single and I need a good maid. You will work only on the days when I have guests. I will warn you about this day in advance. The rest of the time you can go about your business. I will not pay you any money. I will buy clothes and order a special uniform and feed you. Since you have nowhere to go, you will stay with me. That's all. The housekeeper will show you to your room." This ended the conversation. I stayed with him. And two days later they brought me a uniform, I still have it, but it has become narrow in the hips and chest. I put it on and was horrified. The skirt was so short that it barely covered the shorts. Monsieur Jules - that was my master's name - examined me and found the shape magnificent, especially my legs. I began to serve the parties that Monsieur Jules threw every Saturday. I was given a tray of ice cream or glasses of champagne, and I invited guests to freshen up and drink. I was not allowed to wear stockings. Looking at me, the men smiled and whispered about something, while the women turned away contemptuously.