I don't know what actuated me in my course of conduct, at that time I knew well what I did, but my reasons are not so clear, I cared nothing whether Louise knew that her mistress or sister knew I had had her, yet I did not go to the house, firstly because Camille wished me not, unless she was out, and it did not suit me to be waiting for a girl who was burning to let me have her, and also because Louise was in a funk when I was with her in the house, and Camille was out. I was convinced they were sisters, and had a glimmering, that Camille would not like Louise to know she had been got for me by her; yet I thought that it must be found out.

As Camille walked away Louise began to cry, I could not get a word from her; we walked up and down A... street, she was frightened to go home, we went back to the baudy house, and there we slept. The next day we stopped there, and I went home with her, —Camille was within.

“So you have been to a baudy house?” said she, “so you have been fucked, fucked by my friend; you are a nice one to speak ill of other people.” “I am not a whore”, said Louise taking cheek. “Ain't you?” said Camille, “I don't know that.” “Say I am a whore, and I'll hit you”, said Louise going up to her. “Have it out by yourselves, I am not going to stop for a row”, said I, “Camille be good to the girl.” “If I had not brought her from France she would not be what she is.” What was I going to do with her? “Nothing.” Then the sooner Louise went out the better.”

Louise sat down, and began silently crying. I hate to see a woman cry, and always had one remedy, — could champagne be fetched? Mother Boileau condescended to fetch some. We drank, I got communicative, and began to tell Camille. She cut me short, wanted to know nothing, we had been in a baudy house together, it was enough. What was I going to do? the girl would no longer work, and she was going into other lodgings, I might take hers for Louise if I liked.

It gradually shaped itself to this: I was to take the lodgings, Camille to stay rent free, a servant to be got, but one particular friend only was ever to visit Camille there; Louise took Camille's bed-room, Camille Louise's, I had in fact the pleasure of keeping both. The next night I slept with Louise in Camille's bed, slept there several times, and one morning Camille said, “You have got the girl with child, I quite expected it.”

This annoyed me. I had been getting tired for some time, did not like the girl, who became so jealous of Camille, wanted so much admiration, that she quite fatigued me. She wanted to walk in the streets to be admired. I had given her more clothes, she got careless, wanted to go to theatres, and I took her. The Argyle was just opened, and I took her there, she wanted me to go there often. I had seen one or two other women I lusted for, but above all wanted to go to France with Fred who had returned from India; so her being in the family way bothered me. I got it into my head, that it was a plant, and took her to my friend the doctor who said it was a fact.

Camille asked me to meet her in G..d.n Sq..e, for convenience I took her to the baudy house; she had got mighty particular, made me go in first, and came in afterwards with her veil down, — she always now wore a veil. She again asked me what I was going to do. She had got the girl, and was sorry for it, at length she said, “I am going to be married, go into business, and will take her with me, if you will help, or I will get her home again to France, if you will give her money.” I agreed to think of it.

We sat on a sofa. As I looked at her I began to feel a desire for her. “Let us have a kiss”, said I, for old acquaintance sake.” “No”, said she, “I am going to be married, am perhaps watched, am frightened of being here. I expect my friend back from abroad daily, he may have come back now. Madame Boileau knows him, I must be careful.”

But how can a woman resist a man who has had her often, who knows every crack and cranny of her body, has looked at her motte long enough to count every hair on it, a few rubs on her clitoris, and back she fell on the sofa. We were both dressed, but plunging up her, and grasping her ample rump, I was soon enjoying her; when thinking of Louise, and I suppose comparing her mentally, I said in the height of my pleasure, “Oh! I like fucking you better than your sister after all”, or something to that effect.

“What?” said she with a start as her cunt clipped, and jerked my prick out. Cursing, and damning at my interruption I drove it up again, and consummated.

“What did you say about being like my sister?” said she as I still lay with my doodle up her, “what sister?” I replied she looked so like Louise, that she must be her sister. “But she is not, although she is like me.” Then the matter dropped, and she slopped her cunt clean. I used to like a woman whom I knew not to wash it, when I was going to fuck her again, Camille had humored me in this, and as my lust came on for my second poke, used to bring my amatory pastime by looking at the cunt with my pleasure signs on it. So Camille washing astonished me. “I am going to be married, and must,” said she.

We had more fucking before we left. She was all anxiety about Louise, for I would say nothing. “You will never see me here again”, said she, “nor have me again, and may do with Louise what you like, I shan't be here, you will throw her on the town”. Then she veiled closely, and made me go out first. I waited at the top of the street ten minutes, out she came, veil down, and shot off in the direction of G..d. n sq..e like an arrow.

I now with perversity longed for Camille, instead of Louise, but never had her afterwards, never sent my tallow up her, although I tried once or twice.

I began going about elsewhere, sleeping with Louise at times; but she was always pestering me about being in the family way, which annoyed me; and wanted such a lot of ballocking, that that annoyed me also. My cousin Fred wanted me to go to Paris with him, Louise said I was going to forsake her. One night after dining with her, coming out we met my cousin Fred, no-thing put him off, and he would walk with us. The next day he said in his old unchaste way, which some years in India had not improved, “So that is the woman your mother says she fears has got hold of you.” It was the first time I had heard, that my mother had any such suspicion, for although she had spoken to me about my wildness, she had never referred to a woman; but she had told my aunt, who told my cousin my mother was awfully astonished. For that six years I had shagged all our servants under her very nose, yet she had not the faintest suspicion of it, my pranks now coming to her ears, shocked her extremely. I told Fred, that I had had Louise's first, to which he re-plied, that he should like to rattle his stones against her arse. “Is she a good fuck? where does she live?” I did not mean his stones to knock against her arse as long as mine did, I replied, “Oh! you are fond of her then?” “No”, but I preferred her to myself. “Lord, what does it matter?” said he, “white women are scarce in India, there was one that all in my regiment were fond of, there was not an officer who did not stroke her, none of us minded; we say “the more a cunt's buttered, the better it grinds.” I did not see it in that light, so with the remark from him, that she was a damned fine piece, we parted.

Two or three days afterwards he spoke of her again, said he knew where she lived, so I thought he was hunting after her which annoyed me; not seeing that if he had got into her, I could have left her with good excuse.

I had tried to learn from Louise if she knew where Camille went all day, but could learn nothing, one night in bed with her however, whilst handling each other's privates, and under the sympathy generated by the rub of my fingers on her clitoris; she on my solemn promise of secrecy, told me that an old friend of Camille's had opened a glove and lace shop in O.f..d street. I saw a small shop, there was a French-man in it whose face I seemed to know. I waited near it one night, and saw Camille leave the shop closely veiled, and take the best way towards G..d.n sq..e. Madame Boileau was like an oyster I could get nothing out of her, although she took my money. I was sure that Camille went to the shop daily, or nearly so, and as no man came to the house, suppose she got her cunt plugged in the shop parlour.