Free History of a Pleasure Seeker by Richard Mason

being pure and had not seen God yet. Her childhood nanny had been a devout Catholic, and from her she had absorbed the idea that sins are precisely quantifiable, with calibrated penances capable of removing their stain forever. As a little girl, she had secretly said a hundred Hail Marys every Saturday morning to atone for the gluttony she would display as soon as she received her pocket money, which she spent on hard, brightly colored sweets she did not share. Rising for the Eucharist, she wondered whether she might now make a similar bargain with God and win the right to think sordid thoughts without regret.
Nonsense, Jacobina,
she said to herself, but the censoriousness of her tone was undermined by the sight of Piet’s buttocks as he waited to receive the Host.
    When the service was finished she greeted the minister more absently than usual and was so flushed that Maarten asked if anything was wrong. “I’m perfectly well,” she said; but in fact she felt afraid because she had decided to touch Piet Barol, come what may; just a little touch that no one would notice. The opportunity arose as they waited for the car, because Piet happened to be standing in front of its door as it drew up. She held out her hand to him quite naturally to be helped in. His grip was firm and dry. When she leaned against his arm, she saw his bicep swell as he took her weight. “Thank you, Mr. Barol,” she said, and their eyes met, and in that meeting was the knowledge of what had gone before.
    “Je vous en prie,”
said Piet.
    I t was insanely stupid—Piet knew this as he spoke the words, but spoke them anyway—to refer, however obliquely, to the hidden undercurrents of his first interview with Jacobina. As he followed the Rolls-Royce on foot with the other servants, he understood that he had acted dangerously, and yet … He watched Jacobina emerge from the vehicle and ascend the steps of the house.
    She was undeniably an attractive woman.
    He went into the hall feeling reckless. Fortunately he had Egbert’s prayers to attend to, and he turned to this chore with relief because he knew it would calm him. Egbert’s refusal to leave the house required Piet to take him through the morning service before Sunday lunch, except on the first Sunday of the month when the minister called in person to give him the sacraments. The boy was in his bedroom, his face so red Piet thought he might have a fever; but Egbert was perfectly well and red faced only because he had spent the morning in an ice-cold bath.
    Between the child and the young man a wary ease had arisen, the result of Piet’s scrupulous refusal to ask Egbert to explain himself or behave as other children did. This was convenient in many respects, but the persistent avoidance of frank discussion had prevented them from becoming friends. Piet knelt on the floor and asked Egbert to open his prayer book. Together they went through the service, and the boy sought the Holy Spirit’s aid so fervently Piet felt sorry for him. He read him the Beatitudes, giving no hint of his own views, and when they had finished he sent him to his father’s study to receive a homily.
    He was on the landing outside Egbert’s room, about to go to his own, when Jacobina emerged from her bedroom. Piet had loitered perhaps a little longer than he ought to have done, daring Fate; and Fate had not only called his bluff but doubled its money because Jacobina was wearing the dress of apple-green wool she had worn at their first encounter.
    “Good afternoon, Mr. Barol. Will you be lunching with us?” Before changing, Jacobina had written a check for fifty guilders and asked Agneta to take it to the Civic Orphanage in the manner of a medieval merchant buying a papal indulgence. The money was drawn on her own account and had come from her father, not her husband.
    “I should be delighted to,
mevrouw
.”
    M onsieur la Chaume had outdone himself. They ate turtle consommé and
corbeilles Polonaises
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