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Smitten (Prouvaire): October, 1826
I believe I have fallen in love with Bossuet -- not the priest, but the student. This is not a surprise, either to me or to him, I should think, for we have been spending a great deal of time in each other's company in the last few months. He seems quite fond of me, and of my rather revolutionary compatriots. A brave man, Laigle, if a little foolhardy. Last month, I told Audric that I thought Bossuet would be an admirable addition to our seedling fraternité. It took him that long to convince Julien that I might possibly be right. Three nights ago, they explained it all to him: the brotherhood, the need for the utmost care in choosing one's companions, and the way the vow should be sealed. He laughed until Julien was on the verge of leaving, and then explained, all hiccoughing with chuckles, that he was laughing at good fortune, not at their kind, bizarre offer. He went home with them that night. If one seduced him and the other abstained, I don't want to know. I couldn't sleep for the jealousy that twined in my stomach and threatened to burn its way out of me in rage. If I had protested, would Audric have listened? Surely Julien would have been glad to forgo the earthly pleasure of a kiss from Bossuet. He was not glad to receive any of the affection he asked of me. Monsieur Enjolras is above such things, is he not? The next night, the three of them were all stammers and discomfort, and would hardly talk to each other or me until Julien shook his head and resolved to act normally. After that, Bossuet dropped a plate, and Audric helped him clean it up. It was very nearly like an average night until the end, when Julien and Audric went off with their arms around each other's waists, inseparable as if they had never taken my Eagle home and pressed themselves upon his person. I was willing to wait until he had gone, too, and then walk home alone, but he touched my shoulder and made me watch them leaving. He said in a rough undertone that he would like to have someone who looked at him with that sort of affection. I kissed him on the cheek, and said, in a voice that wobbled too much, "Would you come home with me?" He smiled at me. He looks wonderfully surprised sometimes when the world treats him well instead of poorly. "Of course, mon ami, if you'll have me. After all, I haven't sworn to you, have I?" I must have looked as dismayed by this as I felt, because he frowned. "What?" "I didn't mean just that, or -- or really that at all." I felt my cheeks heat with a blush, as they tend to do at the most inconvenient times. I looked away to hide my embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I'm not a terribly good conspirator." He touched my cheek. "I think I knew that. The first bit, anyway. I don't believe the second." "Bossuet -- I want to go home." "All right." We didn't speak much as we walked together. I couldn't think of anything to say. My mind was quite consumed by thoughts of what would happen when we arrived, and where that might lead. If he was as fond of me as he seemed, and goodness knew I had been fond of him for quite some time -- and if he wanted something more from me than a simple promise -- it could be important. I was also entertaining rather guilty thoughts of how pleasurable the evening might be, but when I thought of such things I couldn't look at him properly, so I tried to distract myself from those speculations. When we arrived in the dark, cluttered, book-littered room that my parents pay for, and I locked the door safely, he took me in his arms and kissed my face a hundred times, light, teasing kisses with murmurs and compliments between until I was clinging to him, on the verge of tears with happiness. I kissed him as best I could in return, eagerly. He blinked at me in the darkness, my cravat in his hand, and smiled. "Ah, petit. Sometimes I forget how young you are." I blushed and pulled away from him, stammering, "I'm sorry." I hadn't realized how transparent my inexperience would be. Neither Julien nor Audric had commented on it, those many months before. Perhaps they had attributed any hesitation on my part to their presence, and gave me the benefit of the doubt. I hadn't sought anyone else's bed since that night, not because I had any logical hope that I would be invited back into their company, but because it had been like being struck by lightning. No girl who flirted with me for a chance to dip her hand into my purse could compare to the maddening experience of being seduced by one's friends, surrounded in affection and overcome by pleasure. They were skilled, if somewhat bewildered by the plurality of the evening, and they were confident enough to draw me into their adventure though I didn't know what I was doing. Bossuet was entirely different. He was not drunk on the passion of the moment; he did not have another lover there, accustomed to his rhythms and his habits; he expected me to have the faintest idea of what to do next. It didn't help that I knew all too well what he had been doing the night before, and that with a little imagination I could taste Julien and Audric on his lips. When he murmured, "Sweet Jehan," that was certainly an epithet he had used the night before, not one that belonged to me. The only endearment I knew he wouldn't have applied to either of them was "petit," and that was not particularly complimentary. He was upset that I had refused his embrace. "Jehan, I didn't mean to offend you." I looked at the floor. "No, I know -- I'm sorry." I folded my arms over my chest. "I ought to know what I'm doing." "It's all right." He touched my cheek, and I glanced up for a moment, then away. He was so serious in the light from the lamps outside that I looked back, again, and he smiled. "You don't need to know." "But I'll do something wrong." "Then I'll tell you what was wrong. Don't worry so much; I make mistakes all the time." He was still grinning at me in that disarming way that could reassure anyone. I wasn't entirely reassured, yet. I protested, "Yes, but I won't know what to do." He touched my shoulder. "Then I'll show you." I uncrossed my arms and embraced him. He stroked my hair and said, "It's all right. Truly. No one was born knowing any of this." "I know." I sighed. "It's just that I feel as though I'm inconveniencing you, and you would rather be with someone else." "Someone -- no, no." He kissed me, in a way that made me shiver. I wanted to remember every movement of his lips and his tongue, so that I could return them and make him feel the rush of passion in my veins. "I want this -- with you." He ran his fingers through my hair. I returned the gesture, carefully, for his hair is thinning quite severely. He looks more than a decade my senior, until one sees his smile and the lack of lines on his face. "Oh, Théophile --" I kissed him back, thinking about every step of it, and he pulled me close again. He is taller than I am, and more broad-shouldered. I have to tip my head back and to the side to kiss him, and when he embraces me, I can feel his strength and his size. I am not yet a man, perhaps -- though I live far from my parents, they pay my expenses. Bossuet is a man, and he feels like one in my arms. "It's all right," he told me again, in the soft, half-unconscious way that one speaks to a frightened child or a frightened animal. I didn't think I was being quite that irrational. "I know it's all right," I said, and if I sounded impatient, surely he was not surprised. "I invited you home, didn't I?" "Of course you did." He kissed me again. "See, I told you I make mistakes." "You didn't -- well --" I shook my head. "Don't make me think. Not now." "Not unless you want to." "No. Not now." I buried my face in his shoulder. If love is always as gentle and sweet as that, I made a mistake in forgoing such pleasures for so many months. We promised to each other all of the brotherly vows that were the official reason for this evening, but it went far beyond sealing promises. I learned a few things as the evening went on, and he surprised me. He wanted to give me more pleasure than I could return to him, and he said, teasing me, that youth had a few advantages. He is only six years my senior, and so I laughed at this, until he demonstrated and took my breath away, again. He fell asleep in my bed, exhausted and, I think, happy. We woke entwined, a little sore, a little sweaty, but still happy. I was going to get up and dress before he woke, but he caught my wrist when I was half out of bed and pulled me back to kiss me, and then said, "Je t'aime," in a tone that might be teasing, if it was not Bossuet, if it was not that moment. I think I blushed before I was able to respond in kind, and seal it with a kiss. He drew me back into bed, or I got back into bed, and we made love again before he went to his class without breakfast. That evening, Audric smiled at me as I came into the café, before Bossuet arrived, and asked, "Did you have a productive night?" I smiled. I had hardly been able to keep from beaming like a fool all day long, and I was finally with men I could confide in. "I'm in love," I said, and sat down at their table. Julien frowned at me. "That is not what he asked." I felt myself blush. "We promised to each other, as we were going to do -- supposed to do. But it was more than just a promise -- rather, I imagine, like your first meeting like that, the two of you." Julien had the grace to blush. Audric laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "Congratulations, then." "I don't think you should discuss such things, here," Julien said sharply. "No, you're right." Audric sounded chastened. "We ought to have a rule, if some of our members are inclined to such discussions," Julien said, and gave me an irritated look. "A rule about what?" Bossuet asked, as he came in the door. He grinned at me and came to sit beside me, edging his chair rather closer than usual. "A guideline concerning when it is appropriate to have, ah, intimate discussions," Audric explained. "Perhaps -- not before a meeting, clearly not during --" Julien said, "Certainly not." Audric continued, "Only after, then, at least five minutes after the close of the meeting?" I said, "All right," as much to stop Julien from glaring at me as anything. "I can abide by that unless I forget," Bossuet said, smiling. He put his hand on my knee under the table. "If you forget, I shall remind you." Julien sounded mollified. We went on to talk of important things, the day's events and the coverage in the papers that still dared to print anything resembling the truth. After that, Audric brought up a few archaic points from the constitution of Sparta and proceeded to explain them to us, and how they might apply to our France. We digressed a little, from time to time, but Julien would bring us back to what he considered important topics. I had some trouble concentrating because Bossuet had his hand on my thigh most of the evening, and whenever I managed to forget it, he would fidget a little or use that hand to gesture, and then put it back. Perhaps I made a few useful comments, but it was certainly less than what I usually managed to put into words. If the other two noticed how we were sitting, they said nothing. After a couple of hours, Audric started yawning frequently, and he suggested to Julien, "Perhaps we should go home." "It's early," Julien protested, but Audric yawned again and managed to infect him with it. "All right, all right." "Goodnight -- mes frères," Bossuet said, nodding to them. I echoed, "Goodnight." They said good night to us in turn and went off. As the door swung shut behind Audric, I turned to complain to Bossuet about his consistent imposition on my person. He kissed me just as I opened my mouth. It was a less than optimal collision. I spluttered. He pulled away, saying, "I'm sorry." I shook my head. "It's all right, but for heaven's sake, don't do that." He blinked. "Don't kiss you?" "No." I lowered my voice. "Kiss me all you like, but not here, and don't put your hands in my lap." "Oh, is that all? All right." He touched my cheek. "Come home with me, Jehan." I smiled, though I could feel that my cheeks were hot. "All right." We walked to his flat together, talking of nothing in particular. When we arrived, I told him again that I loved him, and he kissed me, and said it back.
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