House of All Nations by Christina Stead Page A

any more such human monsters as you. Underneath, I daresay, you are all right: you might have been a decent man: but you have been corrupted. You are a white slaver. You want to buy and sell me. You want to sell me to Rhys for his son’s pleasure.’
    She folded her hands, with considerable satisfaction.
    Achitophelous looked very grave. ‘What can you know about such things? I do not want to buy and sell you, Henrietta. You are free to marry the man you love, if he is a decent fellow. You must not say such things. You know nothing.’
    â€˜Adam and I know about everything. We discuss everything. We know more than you and Mother will ever know. We discuss everything because we want to be free.’
    â€˜You mean free love, that’s all.’
    â€˜There is nothing wrong in free love if it suits you. I don’t think—’ she began to speak more slowly, with less assurance. She smiled with a childish pathos at Jules Bertillon. ‘I told Adam all about it. I won’t give myself to a man until I have a true and deep affection for him. But I have needs, too.’ Her voice was troubled.
    Achitophelous cast a quick glance at Jules Bertillon, frightened at this admission. Jules Bertillon knew half the likely bachelors in Paris. He started forward.
    â€˜Henrietta, what do you know about sex? Answer me that. Do you know anything about it? Are you still a virgin? Can I give you to the son of my friend without being ashamed of myself?’ He looked at Jules, in despair. ‘You see. I am afraid she will go to the dogs. She will be a bad woman. She is too like myself.’ He bit his lip.
    But Henrietta was not listening to his asides. She answered his question. ‘I am not obliged to discuss this with you. I am a woman. I can only discuss such things with my lover.’
    Achitophelous was receiving shock upon shock. He was Oriental and had an Oriental view of women. He wilted, and said sadly, ‘With a stranger you discuss it, but not with your father.’ He sat up. ‘Before you love a stranger you have to show that you can place your love firmly at home with those it belongs to. You are not yet nineteen. Love your father and mother. Show them blind, instinctive, unquestioning, perpetual love. I bring you up and in return I only ask this one thing. But I insist on it—blind, instinctive love. If you can’t love me that way, you are no good to me. You can get out. You are no daughter. You are anybody’s girl.’
    Henrietta sneered, ‘You brought me up, with money. I was an item on your household-expenses account. Item: two roller towels. Item: three new saucepans. Item: an apron for my wife. Item: schooling for Henrietta. Mother and I furnished your home rather nicely. I hate all things that are bought with money. I am not grateful for them. You cannot buy any sort of love with money.’
    â€˜Oh ho?’ said Achitophelous slyly, a smile stealing into his face. ‘Well, does Karl Marx say that, too?’
    Henrietta flushed, in confusion. ‘What I mean is—’
    Achitophelous became businesslike. ‘I won’t argue with you. You’re in my power. You must learn discipline. The workers have a right to protest. They worked for it. They worked at what they didn’t like to get their bread and they can say to any man at all, ‘I demand my rights.’ You’re not like that. You never worked. Would that appeal to Lenin?’
    Tears were in Henrietta’s eyes, tears of shame and anger. She knew she had been foolish and could not bear the ridicule. Achitophelous drove home his advantage, blow after blow. ‘When you can come to me and say, ‘Father, for three years I have done everything you asked me. I have gone to the dances you asked me to, I have met the young businessmen you asked me to, I have gone out riding, driving, flying, whatever it is, with them. I have gone to Deauville, Biarritz, the Comtesse de