Note/L10N/KDQ/2.03/Books/povsshoydenshusband1?
povsshoydenshusband1 
原文
<font face=1><DIV align="center">The Hoyden's Husband<br>
<p>
Part 1 - To Fleetness
<p>
By Cartland the Barbarian
<p>
<DIV align="left"> <IMG src="Book/fancy_font/m_65x62.dds" width=51 height=61>arienne Haste (strictly 'de Haste' but she never bothered with the 'de') toyed with the food in front of her. As this was her honeymoon, she had allowed the tavern keeper to give her what he called his special honeymoon salad - lettuce alone. It was unsatisfactory.
<p>
The real problem, however, was not the uninteresting repast - several slugs and a caterpillar had given it added piquancy - but the behaviour of her husband Rogier.
<p>
It was not what he had done. His behaviour was punctilious, dotting every 'i' and crossing every 't'. Never once did he ask her to stay seated as he entered a room, or object to her holding a door open for him, or complain when she asked him to walk three places behind her. In such matters his behaviour was impeccable.
<p>
The difficulty revolved around the enjoyment of conjugal rights and so far, it was by now the second week of the honeymoon, she hadn't. Apart from a few fumblings on the first night that had come to nothing, activity in that sense of the word, was non existent. Rogier had a headache, was too tired, was not in the mood. Once he had said it was the time of the month, whatever that meant.
<p>
She had at first wondered if he was shy. Then she recalled his reputation. He had fathered at least 79 bastards and probably a good many more. Indeed his undoubted prowess in that department was what had made her make a direct pitch for him in the first place.
<p>
Marienne was an only child, the last of a long and illustrious family. The de Hastes were mentioned in all the important history books. They were shrewd politicians, excellent fighters, learned thinkers and eccentric to a fault. If they had one failing it was that they generally made disastrous choices in marriage. It began to look as if she had done the same.
<p>
She did not have to look any further than to her own parents to see the matrimonial curse at work. Her sire, Wyall de Haste, had been so insistent that his wife produced a son, on being told he had a daughter he had left the family castle never to be seen there again. He sent regular missives to his wife, presumably to demonstrate he was still alive in case she got an urge to replace him. Never once did he ask after or refer to his daughter.
<p>
Her childhood had been miserable in the extreme with only her mother and two very elderly servants, Oppitte and D'ashe, to talk to. And the servants were no fun. They were so wrinkled of visage and lacking in hair she could only ascertain gender because one wore a skirt and the other didn't. When her mother had pointed out that trousers did not make a man, she lost even that benchmark.
<p>
The family castle lay just outside the small village of Rushin. It had two groups of dwellings and tried to pretend it was in fact two settlements, Rushin up the Mountain and Rushin down the Glen. But even between them they mustered only 30 souls. In any event Marienne was not allowed to leave the castle and the rare visitors were handled by her mother or the servants.
<p>
Her mother had been well educated. She never neglected to remind Marienne that she had been sent to a special school to be finished. To an impressionable girl it sounded as if her mother had been some kind of statue sent away to have the rough bits chipped off. Her mother had nodded at the analogy while adding that the process of chipping was often a great deal rougher than the edges they were trying to smooth. She was determined to pass on to Marienne what she had learned 'less painfully'.
<p>
As Marienne grew into her early teens, she realised that her mother's obsession - to make Marienne the most sought after girl in the world - was a form of revenge directed against the absent father. Her mother's view of men made them sound monstrous. It was she who first emphasised the need for all men to be taught total compliance before they were allowed even so much as a kiss.
<p>
Living all but alone in the castle Marienne did her best to make her own excitement climbing trees, scaling walls, arranging pretend skirmishes with armies of shadows. But everything she did seemed to displease her mother. It was at the age of eight, or thereabouts, she acquired the nickname the 'hoyden'. This she soon learned meant she had a tendency to do things her mother considered 'unladylike'.
<p>
"You will become the most beautiful, most accomplished, most desired girl in the realm," her mother would advance as Marienne was forced to practise deportment day after day. The litany of things a woman did not do seemed endless. A woman never ran or hurried, a woman never raised her voice or lost her temper, a woman never used unkind words knowing how to deliver what seemed to be the nicest of remarks, on the face of it, to demolish any opposition.
<p>
The regimen of being 'finished' seemed to last twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year. In addition to deportment - and that alone included lessons on how to walk, stand, sit, bend, recline, reach and relax - there were incessant classes on speaking. From the age of six Marienne had been told that her voice was far too loud and strident. Her mother spoke at a volume barely above a whisper and yet every word registered to the full. This 'skill' was drilled into Marienne at every opportunity. Not that she had much chance to practise other than on her mother. Oppitte and D'ashe were so old they had lost all their teeth. Their remarks all came out as 'gmng, gmng, gmng'. Her mother apparently understood this. Marienne did not.
<p>
Then there were lessons on patience; sitting still with nothing to do and nothing to look at for hours at a time. Patience, combined with the skill of listening, was essential, or so her mother told her. One had to know exactly the right moment to make a man look and feel as if he were two-years-old and five inches tall or a woman realise she should have been walking on six legs.
<p>
Then, of course, there was her appearance to consider. There was no thought to extending a childhood the girl had never had. From the age of three she had been encouraged to use cosmetics and creams, perfumes and pomades and kitted out in clothes more suited to adults. From seven she was made to brush her hair 100 times before going to bed and again 100 times after rising every day of her life. At eleven she was only allowed to sleep after the application of a cream all over her face and body that would make her skin as soft as a peach.
<p>
If she tried to defy her mother, the woman simply shunned her. When the one person who pays you any attention falls silent boredom becomes desperation. It was rare indeed that she argued with her mother.
<p>
The first time funny things started to happen 'down there', her mother had given her the sketchiest of lessons about sex. It was like two pieces of a jigsaw, Marienne was told. One bit stuck out and had to be fitted into a bit that curved in. Marienne objected that it was often easy to fit the bit that stuck out into lots of bits that curved in. Her mother had nodded and muttered about the debauched nature of the world. Somehow Marienne guessed that to point out the analogy worked the other way round too would have been a mistake.
<p>
It was on her fifteenth birthday the bombshell arrived in the form of a letter from her father addressed to her. Her father was a man she had neither seen or heard from before.
<p>
</font> <font face=3>
'Marienne,
<p>
I had hoped that by now your mother might have contracted a fatal disease that would have given me the chance of marrying again and getting a proper heir. It has not happened. Now for me it is too late - an unfortunate accident with a lance in the lowlands. Girls may marry at twelve so you are old enough. You will find a husband and procreate at once. Do not talk of this to your mother. She has no concept of the importance of family heritage, lineage or continuity. The responsibility rests with you alone. Go at once, tonight. Head for the town of Fleetness. Find the most sought after man. First establish that he is fecund and has produced sons. Then marry him.'
</font> <font face=1>
<p>
The signature was all but illegible.
<p>
It would normally have been very unlikely that such a missive received out of the blue from a total stranger would have had any effect on her. Yet that day it coincided with two other sets of circumstances. The atmosphere in the castle was becoming more stultifying than ever. Although not by nature rebellious, there was something growing inside that needed to escape. Also, that very day, her mother had caught her skimping on her toilette. This ritual lasted almost two hours and Marienne was heartily sick of it. Who cared what she looked like when there was no one to see her? This time, to her mother's angry complaints, she had dared to answer back. With her mother set for a long-term sulk, the letter came as an omen of hope.
<p>
Carefully she packed a small valise. Late at night, when Oppitte and D'ashe were asleep, she fled. One thing she saw, and for this reason her packing was very thorough. If she was to win the world's most eligible man, she would need all of the feminine wiles her mother had instilled.
<p>
Fleetness was two days from the castle on foot. Marienne did not even think about resting until the city walls loomed. A small lodging house outside the main gate took her money. A wizened old crone as toothless as the castle servants showed her to a small, clean bedroom.
<p>
That night Marienne was so careful with her preparations her mother would certainly have had cause to wonder how their previous disagreement could have occurred. She put the same effort into dressing the next day. When Marienne entered the gates of Fleetness in search of her new life, she knew she looked stunning.
<p> <DIV align="center">
End of part one
<p>
訳文
<font face=1><DIV align="center">The Hoyden's Husband<br>
<p>
Part 1 - To Fleetness
<p>
By Cartland the Barbarian
<p>
<DIV align="left"> <IMG src="Book/fancy_font/m_65x62.dds" width=51 height=61>arienne Haste (strictly 'de Haste' but she never bothered with the 'de') toyed with the food in front of her. As this was her honeymoon, she had allowed the tavern keeper to give her what he called his special honeymoon salad - lettuce alone. It was unsatisfactory.
<p>
The real problem, however, was not the uninteresting repast - several slugs and a caterpillar had given it added piquancy - but the behaviour of her husband Rogier.
<p>
It was not what he had done. His behaviour was punctilious, dotting every 'i' and crossing every 't'. Never once did he ask her to stay seated as he entered a room, or object to her holding a door open for him, or complain when she asked him to walk three places behind her. In such matters his behaviour was impeccable.
<p>
The difficulty revolved around the enjoyment of conjugal rights and so far, it was by now the second week of the honeymoon, she hadn't. Apart from a few fumblings on the first night that had come to nothing, activity in that sense of the word, was non existent. Rogier had a headache, was too tired, was not in the mood. Once he had said it was the time of the month, whatever that meant.
<p>
She had at first wondered if he was shy. Then she recalled his reputation. He had fathered at least 79 bastards and probably a good many more. Indeed his undoubted prowess in that department was what had made her make a direct pitch for him in the first place.
<p>
Marienne was an only child, the last of a long and illustrious family. The de Hastes were mentioned in all the important history books. They were shrewd politicians, excellent fighters, learned thinkers and eccentric to a fault. If they had one failing it was that they generally made disastrous choices in marriage. It began to look as if she had done the same.
<p>
She did not have to look any further than to her own parents to see the matrimonial curse at work. Her sire, Wyall de Haste, had been so insistent that his wife produced a son, on being told he had a daughter he had left the family castle never to be seen there again. He sent regular missives to his wife, presumably to demonstrate he was still alive in case she got an urge to replace him. Never once did he ask after or refer to his daughter.
<p>
Her childhood had been miserable in the extreme with only her mother and two very elderly servants, Oppitte and D'ashe, to talk to. And the servants were no fun. They were so wrinkled of visage and lacking in hair she could only ascertain gender because one wore a skirt and the other didn't. When her mother had pointed out that trousers did not make a man, she lost even that benchmark.
<p>
The family castle lay just outside the small village of Rushin. It had two groups of dwellings and tried to pretend it was in fact two settlements, Rushin up the Mountain and Rushin down the Glen. But even between them they mustered only 30 souls. In any event Marienne was not allowed to leave the castle and the rare visitors were handled by her mother or the servants.
<p>
Her mother had been well educated. She never neglected to remind Marienne that she had been sent to a special school to be finished. To an impressionable girl it sounded as if her mother had been some kind of statue sent away to have the rough bits chipped off. Her mother had nodded at the analogy while adding that the process of chipping was often a great deal rougher than the edges they were trying to smooth. She was determined to pass on to Marienne what she had learned 'less painfully'.
<p>
As Marienne grew into her early teens, she realised that her mother's obsession - to make Marienne the most sought after girl in the world - was a form of revenge directed against the absent father. Her mother's view of men made them sound monstrous. It was she who first emphasised the need for all men to be taught total compliance before they were allowed even so much as a kiss.
<p>
Living all but alone in the castle Marienne did her best to make her own excitement climbing trees, scaling walls, arranging pretend skirmishes with armies of shadows. But everything she did seemed to displease her mother. It was at the age of eight, or thereabouts, she acquired the nickname the 'hoyden'. This she soon learned meant she had a tendency to do things her mother considered 'unladylike'.
<p>
"You will become the most beautiful, most accomplished, most desired girl in the realm," her mother would advance as Marienne was forced to practise deportment day after day. The litany of things a woman did not do seemed endless. A woman never ran or hurried, a woman never raised her voice or lost her temper, a woman never used unkind words knowing how to deliver what seemed to be the nicest of remarks, on the face of it, to demolish any opposition.
<p>
The regimen of being 'finished' seemed to last twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year. In addition to deportment - and that alone included lessons on how to walk, stand, sit, bend, recline, reach and relax - there were incessant classes on speaking. From the age of six Marienne had been told that her voice was far too loud and strident. Her mother spoke at a volume barely above a whisper and yet every word registered to the full. This 'skill' was drilled into Marienne at every opportunity. Not that she had much chance to practise other than on her mother. Oppitte and D'ashe were so old they had lost all their teeth. Their remarks all came out as 'gmng, gmng, gmng'. Her mother apparently understood this. Marienne did not.
<p>
Then there were lessons on patience; sitting still with nothing to do and nothing to look at for hours at a time. Patience, combined with the skill of listening, was essential, or so her mother told her. One had to know exactly the right moment to make a man look and feel as if he were two-years-old and five inches tall or a woman realise she should have been walking on six legs.
<p>
Then, of course, there was her appearance to consider. There was no thought to extending a childhood the girl had never had. From the age of three she had been encouraged to use cosmetics and creams, perfumes and pomades and kitted out in clothes more suited to adults. From seven she was made to brush her hair 100 times before going to bed and again 100 times after rising every day of her life. At eleven she was only allowed to sleep after the application of a cream all over her face and body that would make her skin as soft as a peach.
<p>
If she tried to defy her mother, the woman simply shunned her. When the one person who pays you any attention falls silent boredom becomes desperation. It was rare indeed that she argued with her mother.
<p>
The first time funny things started to happen 'down there', her mother had given her the sketchiest of lessons about sex. It was like two pieces of a jigsaw, Marienne was told. One bit stuck out and had to be fitted into a bit that curved in. Marienne objected that it was often easy to fit the bit that stuck out into lots of bits that curved in. Her mother had nodded and muttered about the debauched nature of the world. Somehow Marienne guessed that to point out the analogy worked the other way round too would have been a mistake.
<p>
It was on her fifteenth birthday the bombshell arrived in the form of a letter from her father addressed to her. Her father was a man she had neither seen or heard from before.
<p>
</font> <font face=3>
'Marienne,
<p>
I had hoped that by now your mother might have contracted a fatal disease that would have given me the chance of marrying again and getting a proper heir. It has not happened. Now for me it is too late - an unfortunate accident with a lance in the lowlands. Girls may marry at twelve so you are old enough. You will find a husband and procreate at once. Do not talk of this to your mother. She has no concept of the importance of family heritage, lineage or continuity. The responsibility rests with you alone. Go at once, tonight. Head for the town of Fleetness. Find the most sought after man. First establish that he is fecund and has produced sons. Then marry him.'
</font> <font face=1>
<p>
The signature was all but illegible.
<p>
It would normally have been very unlikely that such a missive received out of the blue from a total stranger would have had any effect on her. Yet that day it coincided with two other sets of circumstances. The atmosphere in the castle was becoming more stultifying than ever. Although not by nature rebellious, there was something growing inside that needed to escape. Also, that very day, her mother had caught her skimping on her toilette. This ritual lasted almost two hours and Marienne was heartily sick of it. Who cared what she looked like when there was no one to see her? This time, to her mother's angry complaints, she had dared to answer back. With her mother set for a long-term sulk, the letter came as an omen of hope.
<p>
Carefully she packed a small valise. Late at night, when Oppitte and D'ashe were asleep, she fled. One thing she saw, and for this reason her packing was very thorough. If she was to win the world's most eligible man, she would need all of the feminine wiles her mother had instilled.
<p>
Fleetness was two days from the castle on foot. Marienne did not even think about resting until the city walls loomed. A small lodging house outside the main gate took her money. A wizened old crone as toothless as the castle servants showed her to a small, clean bedroom.
<p>
That night Marienne was so careful with her preparations her mother would certainly have had cause to wonder how their previous disagreement could have occurred. She put the same effort into dressing the next day. When Marienne entered the gates of Fleetness in search of her new life, she knew she looked stunning.
<p> <DIV align="center">
End of part one
<p>
