                          THE THIRTEENTH DAY

       The Prsident, who that night lay with Adelaide, his daughter,
having sported with her until he felt asleep about to claim him, had
therewith relegated her to the pallet beside his bed in order that
Fanchon might have her place, for he was ever eager to have the old
duenna by his side when lust awoke him, which occurred almost every
night; toward three in the morning, he opened his eyes with a start
and fell to swearing and blaspheming like the true rascal he was. He
would at such times be gripped by a lubric furor which now and again
became dangerous. That is why he was so fond of having that trusty old
Fanchon near him, for no one was so skillful at calming him, whether
by offering herself or by immediately bringing him one of the objects
lying in his bedchamber.
       On that particular night, the Prsident, instantly recollecting
some infamies he had perpetrated upon his daughter just before falling
asleep, called for her at once with the intention of repeating them;
but she was not there. Imagine the consternation and the commotion
created by such an incident. Curval springs from bed in a towering
rage, asks where his daughter is; candles are lit, everyone hunts
about, the place is ransacked, nothing's to be found; the last place
searched is the girls' apartments. Every bed is examined, and at last
the interesting Adelaide is discovered seated in her nightgown near
Sophie's cot. Those two charming girls, united by their similarly
tender natures, their piety, virtuous sentiments, candor, and
absolutely identical amenity, had been seized by the most beautiful
affection for each other and they were exchanging comforting words,
consoling one another for the dreadful fate that had been reserved for
them. No one had perceived their commerce until then, but what
followed proved that this was not the first time they had got
together, and it was discovered as well that the elder of the was
cultivating the other's finer sentiments, and had especially pleaded
with her not to stray from her religion and her duties toward God, Who
would one day comfort and console them for all their woes.
       I leave it to the reader to picture Curval's fury and stormy
reaction when he located the lovely missionary; he seized her by the
hair and, overwhelming her with invectives, all very harsh, dragged
her to his chamber, where he tied her to his bedpost and left her
until the next morning to ponder over her indiscretion. All of the
friends having rushed to the scene, it will also be readily imagined
with what haste and decision Curval had the two delinquents' names
written down in the register. The Duc argued passionately in favor of
instantaneous correction, and what he proposed was not by any means
mild; but the Bishop having countered with a very reasonable objection
to what his brother was urged to do, Durcet was content simply to
include them on the agenda. There was no way of attacking the duennas;
they were all four bedded in Messieurs' chambers that night. This fact
accounted for the imperfect administration of the household, and
arrangements were made whereby, in future, there would always be at
least one duenna in the girls' quarters and another in the boys'.
Their lordships retired to bed again, and Curval, whom anger had
rendered more than cruelly impudicious, did things to his daughter we
cannot yet describe, but which, by precipitating his discharge, at
least put him quietly to sleep.
       All the hens in the chicken coop had been so terrified that, on
the morrow, no misbehavior was discovered, and amongst the boys, only
Narcisse, whom, the evening before, Curval had forbidden to wipe his
ass, wishing to have it nicely beshitted at coffee, which this child
was scheduled to serve, and who had unfortunately forgot his
instructions, only Narcisse, I say, had cleaned his anus and he had
done so with extreme care. It was in vain the little chap explained
that his mistake could be repaired, since, said he, he wanted to shit
there and then; he was told to keep what he had, and that he would be
none the less inscribed in the fatal book; which inscriptions the
redoubtable Durcet instantly performed before his eyes, thus to make
him sense all the enormity of his fault, a veritable sin and possibly
by itself capable of upsetting or, who knows? of preventing Monsieur
le Prsident's discharge.
       Constance, whom they did not hinder because of her state,
Desgranges, and Bum-Cleaver were the only ones who were granted chapel
permission; everyone else received the order not to draw the cork
until the evening toasts.
       The preceding night's events provided the dinner's
conversation; they made game of the Prsident for permitting the bird
to fly from its cage, etc.; some champagne restored his gay spirits,
and the company sallied forth to coffee. Narcisse, Cladon, and
Zelmire distributed it, so did Sophie, who was greatly ashamed of
herself; she was asked how often the thing had happened, she replied
that it had occurred only twice, and that Madame de Durcet gave her
such good counsel that indeed she thought it most unjust to punish
them both for it. The Prsident assured her that what she called good
counsel was, in her situation, the very worst, that the devotion
wherewith Madame de Durcet had been filling her head would serve no
purpose save to get her punished every day, and that, in her present
circumstances, she was to have no masters and no gods save his three
confreres and himself, no religion save that of blindly serving and
obeying them in everything. And, all the while he was delivering this
sermon, he had her kneel between his legs and bade her suck his prick,
which the poor little thing did all atremble. As always partisan to
thigh-fuckery, the Duc, obliged as he was to abstain from the capital
practice, impaled Zelmire in this style, meanwhile having the little
girl shit in his cupped hand and gobbling it up as quickly as it was
received, and all that while Durcet was inducing Cladon to discharge
into his mouth, and the Bishop was industriously extracting a turd
from Narcisse. A few minutes, no more, were set aside for the nap that
they found such an aid to digestion; then, having taken up their posts
in the auditorium, Duclos faced the gathering and began the day's
narrative.

       The gallant octogenarian Fournier had in mind for me,
Messieurs, was an official from the auditing bureau, short, pudgy, and
with an extremely unpleasant face. He set a pot between us, we
squatted down back to back and shitted simultaneously; he seizes up
the pot, with his fingers stirs the two turds, mixes them, swallows
the batter while I promote his discharge, an eruption which takes
place in my mouth. He barely even glanced at my behind. Nor did he do
any kissing, but his ecstasy was very sharp and compelling all the
same: he pranced all about the room, swearing while he gulped and
ejaculated, and then took himself off, giving me four louis for this
strange ceremony.
       However, my landowner became more fond of me with each passing
day, and more trusting too, and this trust, which I lost no time in
abusing, soon became the cause of our eternal separation. . . . One
day when he had left me alone in his library, I noticed that, before
going out for the day, he had filled his purse with money taken from a
deep drawer entirely filled with gold. "Ah, what a capture!" I said to
myself, and having from that very instant conceived the idea of making
off with this sum, I set to watching for the means and opportunity
whereby to appropriate it: d'Aucourt never locked the drawer, but he
carried with him the key to his library, and having discovered that
this door and lock were both very frail, I fancied it would take
little effort to break the one and the other. Having adopted the plan,
I concentrated upon nothing but taking advantage of the first time
d'Aucourt was absent the entire day; that used to be the case twice a
week, when he went off for private bacchanals in the company of
Desprs and the abbot; Madame Desgranges will perhaps describe what
occurred during these outings, they lie beyond my province. The
favorable moment was soon at hand; d'Aucourt's valets, as libertine as
their master, never failed to go with him to these parties, and so I
found myself almost alone in the house. Full of impatience to put my
project into execution, I go straightway to the door of the library,
break the thin panel with a blow of my fist, rush to the drawer, find
it unlocked as I knew it would be. I remove everything it contains; my
prize amounts to not less than three thousand louis. I fill my
pockets, rifle other drawers; a splendid jewel case catches my eye, I
pick it up, but what was I not to find in the other drawers of that
bountiful secretary! . . . Fortunate d'Aucourt! What great good luck
for you that your imprudence was not discovered by anyone else but me;
the secretary contained enought to have had him broken on the wheel,
Messieurs, that is all I can tell you. Quite apart from the
transparent and expressive notes addressed to him by Desprs and the
abbot pertaining to their secret commerce, there was every kind of
furniture needed for the performing of those infamies. . . . But I
halt myself here; the boundaries you have prescribed to my depositions
prevent me from saying more; Desgranges will treat the whole matter.
As for myself, the theft once effected, I left at once, shuddering to
think of all the dangers I had perhaps been exposing myself to by
frequenting the company of such scoundrels. I crossed over to London
and, as my sojourn in that city, where for six months I dwelt in the
most comfortable style, offers nothing that could be of any
outstanding interest to your Lordships, you will permit me to pass
quickly over this part of my story. I had maintained contact with no
one in Paris but Fournier; however, she advised me of the hue and cry
the landowner had raised over this paltry little robbery, and I
finally resolved to put an end to this blathering: I took up pen and
paper and very coolly informed him that she who had happened upon his
money had also discovered other things, and that if he were determined
to continue to search for the culprit, I would as bravely as possible
endure my fate and very certainly depose, with the same judge who
would question me upon what I had done with the contents of the small
drawers, a detailed statement of what I had found in the larger ones.
Our man fell as silent as a tomb; and as six months later their
three-partied debauchery came broadly to light and as they themselves
left France for security abroad, I returned to Paris and, must I avow
my misbehavior? I returned, Messieurs, as poor as I had been before
dispossessing d'Aucourt, and such were my straits I was obliged to put
myself back in Madame Fournier's safekeeping. As I was no more than
twenty-three at the time, I did not want for adventures; I am going to
ignore those exterior to my domain and recount, with your Lordships'
indulgent permission, only the ones wherein I know now that you take
some interest.
       A week after my return, a barrel brimming with shit was placed
in the chamber appointed for pleasures. My Adonis arrives; he proves
to be a saintly ecclesiastic, but one so habituated to those
pleasures, so blas, that he was no longer capable of being stirred
save by the excesses I shall describe. I was naked when he entered.
For a moment he regards my buttocks, then, after having fingered them
rather brutally, he tells me to undress him and help him get into the
barrel. I remove his garments, aid him to climb in, the old pig slides
down into his element; a hole has been specially bored for the purpose
and, fifteen seconds after having immersed himself, his prick, almost
stiff, pops through the aperture; he orders me to frig it, covered as
it is with filth and horrors. I do as I am told, he ducks his head
down into the shit, splashes in shit, swallows shit, shouts,
discharges, and, clambering out, trots off to immerse himself in a
bath, where I leave him in the hands of two house servants who spend a
quarter of an hour scrubbing him clean.
       Another one appeared shortly afterward. I had shitted and
pissed into a pot a week before and had carefully preserved the
mixture; this period was necessary before matters reached the stage
our latest libertine desired. He was a man of thirty-five, and my
guess was that he was connected with finance. Upon entering he asked
where the pot was; I handed it to him, he sniffed it experimentally.
       "You're perfectly certain that was done a week ago?" he asked.
       "Monsieur," I replied, "I am prepared to answer for its age;
you will notice the first signs of mildew there, some moldiness near
the edge."
       "Why, indeed, it looks as if it will do very nicely," he
agreed, "it's the mold I adore, you know. Never too moldy to suit me.
Show me, if you please," he continued, "the pretty ass that shitted
what we have here."
       I presented it.
       "That's it," said he, "put it right there opposite me so that I
can see it while eating its creation."
       We arrange ourselves, he samples a little tidbit, is thrilled
by the taste, plunges directly ahead, and in no time has devoured that
exquisite lunch, only interrupting his chewing to scan my bum; but
there was no other episode, he did not even draw his prick from his
breeches.
       A month passed, another unusual fellow came to our door, and
this one would deal with none but Fournier herself. What an object he
selected, Great God! she had been sixty-eight summers, an erysipelas
was eating every inch of her hide, and the eight rotten teeth
decorating her mouth communicated so fetid an odor it was all but
impossible to speak with her at a distance of under five yards; but it
was these shortcomings and nothing else that enchanted the lover with
whom she was to take a tumble. Most eager to observe the contest, I
run to the spy hole: the Adonis was an elderly doctor, but younger
nevertheless than she. He takes her in his arms, kisses her mouth for
a good fifteen minutes, then, having her present an ancient, wrinkled
ass such as you see on a very old cow, he kisses and sucks it avidly.
A syringe is brought in, three half bottles of liqueur too;
Aesculapius' worshiper loads his syringe and pumps the healing drink
into the entrails of his Iris; she receives the potion, holds it, the
doctor does not cease kissing her, he licks every square of her body.
       "Ah, my friend," the old lady cries at last, "I can contain
myself no longer, not another second, prepare yourself, dear friend,
I'm going to have to give it back."
       Salerno's scholar kneels, from his fly pulls forth a dark,
wrinkled stub of a device, which he pounds and coaxes with emphasis,
Fournier settles her great ugly ass upon his mouth, pushes, the doctor
imbibes, a turd or two doubtless emerge with the liquid, he gasps but
it all goes down, the libertine discharges and falls backward, dead
drunk. 'Twas thus this debauchee satisfied two passions at a single
stroke: his wine bibbery and his lewdness.

       "One moment," said Durcet. "Those excesses always give me an
erection. Desgranges," he pursued, "I fancy you possess an ass closely
resembling the one Duclos has just figured; come apply it to my face."
       The old procuress obeyed.
       "Let it go, release it," Durcet said in a muffled voice, for he
was speaking from between that pair of awe-inspiring buttocks. "Give
it to me, buggress, never mind if it's not liquid, I am perfectly able
to chew, and I always swallow whatever comes my way."
       And the operation was concluded while the Bishop was performing
a similar one with Antinos, Curval with Fanchon, and the Duc with
Louison. But our four athletes, fully acquainted with all these
extravagances and totally at their ease while committing them,
performed with absolute effortlessness and even nonchalance: the four
deposits were consumed without a single drop of fuck being shed in any
quarter.
       "Well, on with your story, Duclos, finish up for the day," the
Duc said; "if we are no more tranquil than before, we are at least
less impatient and better able to pay attention."
       "Alas, Messieurs," our heroine answered, "I fear that the
anecdote I have still to relate this evening is far too simple, too
mild for the state you are in. 'Tis a pity, but no matter; its turn
has come, it must keep its place." And she continued as follows:

       The hero of the adventure was an old brigadier in the King's
army; he had to be stripped to the skin, then swaddled like an infant;
when he was thus prepared, I had to shit while he looked on, bring him
the plate and, with the tips of my fingers, feed him my turd as if it
were pap. Everything is done according to prescription, our libertine
swallows it all and discharges in his swaddling clothes, the while
simulating a baby's cry.

       "Let us then have recourse to children," said the Duc, "since
you leave us with a children's story; Fanny, my dear," he continued,
"come to your old friend and shit in his mouth, and remember to suck
his prick while you are about it, for it seems to have to discharge
again."
       "Let thy will be done," murmured the Bishop. "Come hither,
Rosette; you have heard the orders given to Fanny. Then do as she."
       "May the same orders apply to you," Durcet said to Hb, who
responded to his call.
       "When in Rome," said the wise Curval, "do as the Romans do, my
little one. Augustine, emulate your companions, cause simultaneously
to flow both my fuck into your mouth and your shit into mine."
       And all these things were done; upon this occasion, all those
worthies came; from everywhere the sounds of farting and falling shit
were to be heard, discharges too, and, much lust sated, they betook
themselves to the table, their appetite was passing strong. But at the
orgies, refinements were employed, the little ones were sent off to
bed. Those delicious hours were spent with none but the elite fuckers,
the four ladies-in-waiting, the four storytellers. Messieurs became
completely drunk and performed horrors of such absolute filthiness
that I should not be able to describe them without doing an injustice
to the less libertine tableaux I have yet to offer my readers. Curval
and Durcet were carried away unconscious, but the Duc and the Bishop,
quite as cool as if nothing had happened, were perfectly able to pass
the rest of the night indulging in their ordinary riot.
