Two Flappers in Paris by Anonymous

Excerpt: Two Flappers in Paris

Chapter One

Crossing The Channel

WITHOUT in any way disclosing my identity—which, indeed, would be of no special interest to the reader—I may say that I occupy a somewhat important position in our Diplomatic Service, and it was in this capacity that I had to visit Paris in the month of October 19—.

I have often had occasion to visit Paris and it is always with the greatest pleasure that I return to this delightful city where every man can satisfy his tastes and desires whatever they may be. But on this occasion, more than ever before, chance, that great disposer of events, was to be on my side and had in store for me an adventure of the most delightful description.

I had had a pleasant run down to Folkestone and had gone on board one of those excellent boats which cross to Boulogne in something under two hours. It was blowing decidedly hard and the boat was rolling heavily but I did not mind this for I am a good sailor and I thought to myself that I should be able to enjoy in comparative solitude that delightful feeling which results from a contemplation of the immensity of the ocean and of our own littleness as well as the wild beauty of a troubled sea.

And, as a matter of fact, the deck soon became deserted and I was left alone, but for the presence of a young girl who was standing at the rail not far from me. From time to time my looks wandered from the whitecrested waves and rested upon the charming figure that was before me, and finally I abandoned all contemplation of the infinite and all poetical and philosophical meditation and became wholly absorbed in my pretty traveling companion. For she was indeed lovely and the mobile and intellectual features of her charming face seemed to denote a very agreeable character.

For a long time I admired her from a distance, but at last, by no means satisfied with this, I decided to try to make her acquaintance, and for this purpose I gradually approached her. At first she did not seem to notice me. Wearing over her dress a light waterproof which the strong wind wrapped closely round her body, she was leaning on her elbows on the rail; one hand was placed under her chin and the other held the brim of her hat which otherwise would have stood a good chance of being carried away into the sea. She seemed to me to be about sixteen years old, but at the same time she was remarkably well made for a girl of that age. My eyes devoured the small and supple outline of her waist and the fine development of her behind which, placed as she was, she seemed to be offering to some bold caress, unless perchance it might be to a still more delightful punishment. . .

On her feet she wore a charming pair of high-heeled brown shoes which set off to the best advantage the smallness and daintiness of her extremities.

I came close up to her without her making the slightest movement or even looking in my direction, and I stood for a few moments without saying a word, taking a subtle and intimate pleasure in examining every detail of her beauty, her splendid thick pigtail of dark silky hair, the fine arch of her ears, the whiteness of her neck, the delicacy of her eyebrows, what I could see of her splendid dark eyes, the aristocratic smallness of her nose and its mobile nostrils, the softness of her rosy little mouth and the animation of her healthy complexion.

Then suddenly I made up my mind.

‘We are in for rough crossing!’ I said. She turned her little head slowly towards me and for a moment examined me in silence. And now, seen full face, I found her even more beautiful and more attractive than she had seemed before when I had only been able to obtain a side view.

Apparently her examination of me was favourable, for a slight smile disclosed the prettiest little teeth that it is possible to imagine and she answered, ‘Do you think so? I don’t mind if we are!’ This paradoxical answer was quite in keeping with her appearance.

‘I congratulate you,’ I said. ‘I see that you are a true English girl, and that a rough sea has no terrors for you!’

‘Oh,’ said she quickly, ‘I’m not afraid of anything; and as for the sea, I love it. Of all amusements I like yachting best.’ I could not help laughing a little. Evidently of all the amusements that she was acquainted with yachting might be her favourite one, but a day would come, and perhaps was not far off, when she would know others: and then, yachting. . .

However, I considered that it was impossible to continue the conversation without having gained her confidence, and to effect this my best plan was to introduce myself.

You must excuse me,’ I said, ‘for having taken the liberty of speaking to you, but our presence on the deck here, when everybody else has taken refuge below, seems to indicate that we are intended to know one another. . . and, I hope, to appreciate one another. My name is Jack W—, and I am attached to the Foreign Office.

She gave me a charming little bow, and, at once, by the smile in her eyes, I could see that I had attained my object.

‘And my name,’ said she, ‘is Evelyn H—, and I am on my way to school. I am traveling alone as far as Boulogne but there a French governess will meet me and take me on to Paris.’

Let me here state that I cannot mention her surname nor that of any of the other characters who will appear in this story, which is an absolutely true one in every particular, for some of the characters are well known in society and might be known to some of my readers.

‘Oh really?’ I exclaimed. “You are on your way to Paris? I am going there too. What bad luck that we can’t travel all the way together. But at any rate we can keep one another company till we reach Boulogne. Shall we sit down together in that shelter: we shall be fairly out of the wind there?’

There was a convenient seat close by which we proceeded to occupy.

My blood was already beginning to course more freely through my veins.

‘Where are you going to in Paris?’

‘To Mme X. . . at Neuilly. That’s where I am at school.’

‘I know the school well,’ said I. ‘It is certainly the most fashionable one in all Paris. I suppose there are a large number of girls there?’

‘No, not more than sixty.’

You are one of the senior girls?’

‘No, not yet!’ said she, uttering a sigh. ‘I wish I were, but I shall have to wait till next year for that.’

‘And why are you so anxious to be one of the senior girls.’

She gave me a rapid glance and smiled.

‘Because,’ said she, ‘the senior girls know things that we don’t know. . . ‘

‘What sort of things?’

‘Oh, all sorts of things. And they are very proud of their superior knowledge, let me tell you. They say that we are too young to join their society.’

‘And what is this society?’

‘It’s a secret society. They call it, I don’t know why, the Lesbian Society. But after all what does it matter: our time will come!’ I was more and more delighted with Evelyn’s candour and with the decidedly interesting turn which our conversation had taken. ‘Oh, yes. I have a special friend there who is more than a sister to me. We have no secrets from one another. Her name is Nora A— and I love the walks we have together.’

‘You go into Paris sometimes, I suppose?’

‘Yes, but of course there is always someone with us to chaperon us.’

‘Have you ever been to the Louvre?’

‘Ah, yes! What beautiful pictures, and other things too, are to be found there.’

‘The statues for instance; you have seen them? Now tell me, were you not rather surprised when you saw the statues of the men without the fig leaves they are always represented with in our galleries?’

Evelyn blushed slightly and smiled. I saw her eyes sparkle but she covered them with her long lashes.

‘At first I was,’ she said. ‘And of course I noticed the difference that there is between. . . ” She stopped and nervously began to tap her knees.

‘Between what?’ I said. ‘Between a man and a woman?’

‘Yes. . . ”

Excerpt From: Anonymous. “Two Flappers in Paris.”