You are on page 1of 3


(A Summer Tale in the Spirit of Chick Lit)

Dmitrii Emets

Translated from Russian by

Jane H. Buckingham

©Jane H. Buckingham 2011

After poor Papa left this fleeting world, I remained without means of support and had to get a job as the governess to the niece of Count P. The hired carriage brought me to the magnificent country house belonging to the Count. I approached the entrance door of stained oak, on which were the arms of count P — a prancing elephant on a blue background — and knocked. A tall, svelte, elegant man, on whose handsome brawny face was a deep, well-concealed suffering, opened the door. I immediately realized that this was Count P himself. The Count slid his majestic view along me, and a spark of genuine interest flickered in his beautiful blue eyes. “With whom do I have the honour?” he asked in a deep, well-delivered baritone. “Mistress Jane Dobkins, your new governess,” I leaned my slender figure in a curtsy and bashfully straightened the velvet skirt on my pretty legs. (By the way, my legs are so fine that I can admire them in the mirror for hours.) I was dressed simply and tastefully. Poor Mama was a Frenchwoman, and she passed onto me that inimitable charm over which any man will lose his head (if he has one) in two minutes. It goes without saying that the Count fell in love with me at first sight. He gave me everything that his hands came across: flowers, diamonds, silverware, ... But I was adamant, and accepted only the diamonds from all the gifts. “I am an honest girl!” I invariably answered in response to all his declarations and straightened the skirt on my pretty legs. His face turned pale from passion, and he bit his lower lip until it bled. One evening when I was already in bed and the silk sheets caressed my body (two pages of detailed description of the body follows), an authoritative knock sounded at a door, and the Count charged into the room without waiting for an answer. He was in rose-coloured PJ pants, showing his brawny hairy chest. He was unshaven and his blue eyes were red from tears. I even started to feel a little sorry for him when I realized that all this came from his love for me. “I love you! And you will be mine!” the Count howled in a well-delivered voice. “I am an honest girl!” I proudly said, wrapping myself in the sheet. But as I did not hasten to do this, he managed all the same to see a pretty white leg. Conflicting feelings were reflected in the his face. “Be mine! Or I will blow my brains out!” he implored. “Not for anything in the world!” I answered. But here – Oh Heavens! — the blanket slipped down my fine white shoulder. At the very same time, something demonic appeared in the eyes of Count P. I screamed, jumped from the bed, and rushed into the hallway. He ran after me from room to room and strove to clasp me to his muscular hairy chest. Finally, he hugged me so tightly that something in me snapped and I fainted. I came to because someone carefully placed a wet towel on my forehead. I opened my eyes and saw Count P. leaning over me. “Oh, you're alive! I
©Jane H. Buckingham 2011

wished to shoot myself in the head, but my pistol misfired. Afterwards I found out that it wasn't charged at all,” he said and again tried to embrace me. “Not for anything in the world!” I uttered throatily, in vain struggling to break loose of his passionate embrace, “I am an honest girl!” Count P burst out laughing demonically. “No need to faint!” he said a forlorn voice. I screamed and in a fit of unaccountable passion fell to his chest... “I will marry you,” he promised, gently patting me on the back. “I will most definitely marry you.” At that moment, I realized that I had always loved the Count. Two days later was our wedding. During the wedding ceremony, it seemed to me that the padre was looking at us somewhat strangely. “Probably in love with me too. The poor, poor man!” I thought, aware of the irresistibility of my charms. Our honeymoon was like one continuous dream. But then I suddenly began to notice in the eyes of my spouse some incomprehensible melancholy, which increased with each day. “Tell me everything! Oh, I will understand everything! I swear, everything!” I pleaded once, getting up on my knees before him and wringing my hands. My spouse sadly turned his face to me, “Darling, I am burdened by an awful secret. I wanted to tell you everything even before the wedding, but I dared not,” he said. “The matter is that I am not whom you take me for. I am not Count P but his butler. Count P and his niece are resting on the waters in Nice, and left me to look after the house.” The sky has fallen into tiny shreds in my eyes. “What? You're not the Count?” I exclaimed. My spouse's tanned brawny face turned red. He looked down. “Tomorrow the Count returns to his castle. I have received a telegram,” he said with great effort. “Could you not return the diamonds I gave you? I stole them from the Count.” “Bastard! Cheat a modest defenceless girl this way!” I shouted, as soon as the meaning of his words reached me. “Goodbye, you miserable! I am leaving you! But don't think I'll return the diamonds, you worthless nobody!” Dear reader, if you are a childless, unmarried Count and if for some reason you need a governess, slender, beautiful, and attractive, do not forget me, I beseech you. But remember, gosh darn it, I am an honest girl!!!

©Jane H. Buckingham 2011