Grushenka. Three Times a Woman Page 15

  He was amazed that she could read, and listened with interest to the story. But this interest grew to admiration when she inserted sentences into her monotonous readings which certainly were not printed in the book. For example: “Be very careful.” Or “I must see you again.” Or “Make some plans of what to do.” Or “when he comes back, behave as though you never want to see me again.” And so on.

  When Serge came back to fetch Grushenka, the old man complained in a stupidly wailing manner that she had gotten him hot and feverish, that he did not want to see her again, that she had disturbed him with her reading. Serge was pleased at this and felt especially gratified when Grushenka told him, after they had left the room, that the Prince was a decrepit old man, had no sense any more and was certainly suffering from softening of the brain. Serge ordered her to make a daily visit to the Prince and to annoy him more each time. “Take his weapon,” he said, “or what is left of it, and rub it or kiss it. Let him have a little excitement before he goes to hell-you are his serf anyway.” At present, however, Serge wanted his own excitement quelled, and Grushenka looked too beautiful in her full dress not to make an excellent partner. Right then and there her head was buried in the cushions of a couch while a sharp pain in her intestines announced that Serge was still able to raise Master Phallus to action. When he had thrown the long train of her dress over her elevated buttocks and found a pair of drawers in his way, he ordered her never to wear drawers again. He also decided that hereafter he would poke her each day when she came out of the Prince's room. The dress of an elegant lady had stimulated his low-born senses and he ordered his other favorites also to be fitted with fine gowns to be worn when they reported for his pleasure.. Meanwhile Grushenka had to bear the brunt of his desire, and she did so with the resolution that her revenge would not be far off. She had her back doorway used again and again, and, surprisingly, she soon found that it was not so terrible after all. On the contrary, she learned how to loosen the muscles, how to give herself easily, how to enjoy this reverse form of erotic excitement. Her only objection to her encounters with Serge was that he demanded that she hold herself absolutely motionless no matter how aroused she became. How much she would have liked to answer his thrusts with wiggling pushes! The liberation of old Prince Asantcheiev and the crushing of Serge came much more quickly than even Grushenka had hoped. She smuggled paper and pencil to the old Prince and, while she read to him, sitting so that a watcher from the keyhole could not see him, he wrote a letter. It took the feeble old man many days before the letter was ready and addressed. He had to hide the half-finished paper for days under his sheets, trembling for fear that it would be detected-and that would have meant a violent death from Serge's hand. It was addressed to a distant relative of his who had his castle in the city. While Serge was in the house Grushenka, who had not confided in anyone, did not dare to carry the message herself to its destination. But, one day, when Serge drove away to watch the races, she dressed hurriedly, ran out of the house, took a droshki and sped through the city. The relative was not at home, but his wife was. Grushenka forced her way through a chain of servants, came to the mistress, fell at her feet and poured out her story in great excitement. At the same time she delivered the letter.

  At first the lady did not want to listen. Had not the old Prince sent them insulting letters some years ago asking them never to see him again nor to communicate with him again? Had not that dirty majordomo refused her husband entrance to the house, acting upon orders from the old Prince? Had they not been shut out of his Me entirely? How could he now expect to get help? But when Grushenka prayed hard to her she finally read the letter. She began thinking it over and had Grushenka repeat the story. Then, suddenly, she understood; it became clear to her that Prince Asanteheiev was actually the captive of his slave, that he had kept them away under the threat of death, and that they had to act. But how? She broke out in a flood of lamentations, for with her husband away she did not know what to do. Yet Grushenka was in a terrible hurry.

  Action had to be taken before Serge came back, for he would strangle the old man upon the first suspicion. She suggested that they should get hold of some male acquaintances of Madame, should get some men from the police station and- But now Madame was calm again and took charge. She selected a half dozen of her strongest stable men and they drove at great speed to the castle of the old Prince. Serge had not yet returned. The old Prince, upon seeing his relative, became hysterical, interrupting his joy with shouts of fear. Serge, whom he called an almighty devil, would kill them all, he proclaimed. His fear did not lessen even when they brought Serge before him, chained and shackled. It had been an easy job. When he had re-entered the house, the six men of Madame had fallen upon him and subdued him in no time. A police-picket was sent for. In the presence of the lieutenant, the old Prince made his accusation against his serf and demanded that he be hanged. And so they led Serge away. The captain of the police decided not to string him up, but to send him to Siberia. But it never came to that. Serge, who had been stunned in the beginning, had a violent fit in the evening and tried to break loose. The answer was the knout, and the policeman who exercised the whipping hit him so awkwardly that he broke his back. Serge died during the night-this all can be read in the old family papers of the family.

  Asantcheiev. There also can be found that the old Prince gave Grushenka her freedom and a handsome dowry. He lived on for many months in peace and happiness. During this time Grushenka nursed him.

  After his death, the relative who helped to free him inherited and lived in his castle-her name is reported as Countess Natalia Alexiejew. Grushenka stayed with the Countess Natalia until-well, the next chapter will tell you.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Countess Natalia Alexiejew and her husband, the Count Vasilis, were Russian aristocrats of the old, conservative order, a kind Grushenka had not yet met. They were religious, straightforward and strict, but just. They felt themselves the absolute owners of their serfs, but felt toward them more like a father or a mother than a master. Their day started early with a prayer meeting which was attended by the whole household. This was followed by breakfast at a long table, the masters presiding. If there was not a special party with guests, masters and servants ate at the same table and of the same dishes. After that, work was done.

  Laziness or stupidity were at first treated with admonishing words. Only in rare and grave cases was the whip resorted to. The masters did not swing it themselves, however, but sent the culprit to the stable where an old and trusted coachman named Joseph laid the guilty one over a bundle of hay and administered the beating. (Joseph was a Judas and beat them longer and harder than he was told to. The other serfs hated him. They took good care not to be remiss in their duties so as to stay clear of his fangs.) Furthermore, no erotic abuse took place in the household. The aristocratic couple shared the same bed throughout the year. The Count, who was past fifty, had lost his sexual aspirations, and the Countess, who was ten years his junior, was apparently satisfied with what he was able to let her have. She was nice and plump, with firm flesh and many pretty dimples.

  She had motherly ways, though always a bit preachy, and was beloved by all her servants. A few weeks after the death of the old Prince she approached Grushenka and asked her what she intended to do. Did she want to leave her? Should she look around for “a husband for her?

  Would she like to settle down on a little farm? What were her plans?

  Grushenka had no answer ready. After talking it over they decided that Grushenka should stay at the house for the present, and the Countess put her in charge of the linen and silver room.

  Grushenka now carried on her belt a chain with many big keys which opened drawers and chests. She was proud to take care of countless sets of linen, from the coarse and daily-used bed linen of the serfs to the finest table damask, and of hundreds of pieces of china and many valuable silver ornaments which were put on the table on special occasions only. She had ten girls working under her, clean
ing, repairing and sewing the new linen which had been woven by another group of girls or by the peasant women on one of the estates.

  Her pride made her ambitious to have the utensils entrusted to her always at their very best. This ambition did not meet completely with the zeal of the girls working for her, especially in the beginning when they started to clean up after the years of disorder that preceded the death of the old Prince. She began to admonish her girls with friendly words, but she was timid and they laughed behind her back. It took all her courage to pinch one or the other on the arm, and she felt that as soon as she turned around they made faces at her and giggled. At last she complained to the Countess, who gave the matter serious thought. She advised her as follows: “The trouble with peasants,” said the Countess, “is that they won't hear with their ears until they have felt with their backs. It won't do for you to report them to me and for me to have them sent to the stable. They'll only pin on you the stigma of a traitor and they'll think you're afraid of them and will play you plenty of tricks. No-you will have to keep some good fresh switches in salt water in your working pantry. If you beat one or two of their backs sore, they'll kiss the hem of your sleeves.” After this advice, Grushenka got the switches and gave the girls a warning, but she made very little headway. The girls joked about the switches and broke the stems in the middle when she was not looking. There was one in particular, a big fat girl, about thirty years of age. She had been married twice to farmers, both of whom had died, and had always returned to the inner circle of the household because she had been one of the last favorites of the deceased Prince. She used to call Grushenka “baby,” and told stories of her married life which made the other girls stop working. She herself would do almost nothing in a day's time, and, when Grushenka pinched her on the arm, she would grin and say: “Why dear, do that again, please. It feels nice.” She certainly did riot feel it very much. She had a tough, brown skin and the hard flesh of her peasant stock. Her overgrown, full breasts had first attracted the old Prince when he saw her once swimming in the river of his estate. She used to kneel down before him, put his weapon between her breasts, press them gently together and rub until she felt his love juices flowing over her throat. She imagined that she had superior rights to Grushenka, hence her heckling and resistance. Therefore when she aroused Grushenka's temper again and again, Grushenka finally lost her patience and condemned her to twenty-five strokes over the bare buttocks with the switch. The girl arose unmoved, took some hair pins out of her hair and with them pinned her skirt up over her back.

  With slow movements and ceremony she” removed her drawers, laid herself on the floor, bottom-up and said sarcastically: “Please hit me, sweetheart. I want to be heated up.” Grushenka knelt with one knee on the back of the culprit and put the bucket with the switches next to her on the floor. In front of her were two enormous buttocks-two big brown globes, muscular and steel-hard. The girl held her thighs closely together and strained her muscles in order to ward off the strokes. She was not at all afraid, because Grushenka was not very strong. Grushenka felt that if she did not beat the culprit into submission she would lose the respect of all her girls, and she pressed her lips together in anger. “Open up your legs as wide as you can,” she ordered curtly. “Certainly, my dove,” retorted the girl mockingly; “anything to please my little pet.” She spread her legs as wide as she could. At the end of the cleft appeared a great cavern-a hair-infested grotto which seemed able to hold a big stick. The thick flesh on the end of the cleft was not muscular, and the inside of the thighs next to the orifice attracted Grushenka's eyes. She directed the switch at these parts. At first, being greatly excited herself, she laid the strokes weakly and swiftly. But when the girl did not seem to mind at all, even muttering flip remarks, Grushenka began to whip her with a force which she herself had not suspected she had. The flesh around the grotto became crimson. The first drops of blood appeared. “The girl began to move-uneasily. The ends of the switch were cutting the lower part of the lips of the orifice. Soon the switch had broken to pieces.

  Grushenka picked a new one. Her hand got sore, but she did not mind.

  She was breathless, but she whipped and whipped, her eyes directed towards the end of the cleft and neglecting entirely the big, muscular thighs. Finally the girl felt the pain keenly. She had stood it at first to show up Grushenka and to prove that she could not hurt her. But now her pain became too violent. She closed her legs.

  Grushenka, sensing victory and submission, would not have it so.

  She shouted at her to open up again, and, when the girl did not obey, she bent over in a rage and bit her viciously on one of the big buttocks. The girl groaned and cried out, but reluctantly opened her enormous thighs again. This was not enough for Grushenka who jerked them open as far as it was possible and resumed her whipping until the girl prayed for mercy and to be forgiven. Grushenka stopped beating, but she was not yet through with her. She told the girl not to move until she had washed her up herself. In the hollow of her hand, she took salt water from the bucket and rubbed it into the raw, beaten flesh. The sting of the cold water shot up the girl's back and, as she instinctively recoiled, Grushenka manhandled her love-nest, pinching her all around the Venus' Hill and pulling her hair severely. Finally she inserted her sharp nails into the lips of the grotto and, with a last pinch, which made the culprit scream, let her go. After the girl rose, she gave Grushenka a strange look of mingled astonishment and devotion. She curtsied and kissed her sleeve, then went humble to her work without wiping off the tears which trickled down her cheeks. From that day, all the girls looked up to Grushenka with respect, and some of them even told her how glad they were that Grushenka had punished that bitch who had been so fresh.

  Grushenka herself had undergone a change by this experience. She now looked at her ten girls as her property, and she enjoyed feeling that she could do with them what she wanted. She felt a certain thrill when she pinched their bare arms. She did not hurry when she had them expose the inside of a thigh or even a breast, so that she could squeeze the flesh slowly between the knuckles of two fingers, pinch hard and twist her hand around. When her victim yelled or did not hold still, she did it over and over again, and she was aware that she got a thrill out of it. She took even more advantage of her girls and they did not dare complain to the Countess. Grushenka had no lover, and she often felt randy. What had Nelidova done? For what had those lazy brats their tongues? Remembering her one-time mistress, Grushenka had these girls make love to her. The fat girl, who had been her antagonist, became her favorite for this sport. She had a long, crafty tongue and used to alternate rimming and tickling without having to be told what to do. But if one of the younger girls did not satisfy her, Grushenka beat her with a clear conscience. She used to say to herself: “Who had pity on me when I was in the same position?”

  All this was erased by an event. The Count and Countess gave a great party. Grushenka supervised the serf girls in the handling of the dishes at the great buffet overflowing with food. Of a sudden there stood next to her-she had not seen him approaching-her Mikhail.

  He was attired in gala uniform, smart from foot to head, young, alert and in the best of moods. Grushenka only saw the bold, blue eyes which had captivated her so many months ago. She stared at him as if he were a ghost, and, finally, understanding that he was really there before her, a guest of the party, she uttered a faint cry and turned abruptly to run away. He seized her and drew her toward him.

  “Hello, Mary!”-that was the name she had given him when he and his friend had picked her up on the road- “Hello, you mysterious lady…

  Don't run away. I have been looking for you everywhere. If you knew how often we discussed you, my friend Vladislav and I-he is still in Petersburg. We even made bets as to who you were. Now again I can't tell. You don't seem to be a guest, you're not wearing an evening gown. But you certainly are not a servant.” (Grushenka wore a modish but simple gray silk gown and no wig.) “Let me go, let me go!”
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br />   Tears dimmed Grushenka's eyes, and she was all in a flutter. At this moment the Countess passed and Mihail called her to his assistance. “I can tell you all about my little brave friend,” said the Countess. “She is a fine girl and very sweet, too, isn't she?” “We are old friends,” continued Mihail with a twinkle of the eye, “but she doesn't like me any more. See, she wants to run away.” “Please don't tell him anything,” pleaded Grushenka with her mistress. “If-well, then, I'll tell him everything myself!” And she sighed so pathetically that they both laughed. “All right,” consented Mihail, “that will be much more to my liking.”

  Grushenka took him by the hand and led him out of the room, away from the glamour of the thousand candles and the laughter and merriment of the aristocratic party. She seated him in a dark corner of one of the many pantries, and, while the servants passed the room, busy with their work, she poured a torrent of words out at him.

  She made herself as humble and miserable as possible. She told him that she was only a serf girl; that when he and Vladislav had picked her up, she was running away in the stolen clothes of her mistress; that she was a low, dirty creature, not worthy even to speak with him. When she was through, she burst into a stream of tears, embraced him and kissed him and clung hysterically to his neck, telling him that she had been liberated and was free now to go wherever she wanted and she would never separate from him again.

  Mihail understood only one thing of all this: she loved him and had ceaselessly dreamed about him. She was very beautiful, and in her tears she looked to him like a Venus. She felt that she pleased him and suddenly became normal again-quite reasonable, in fact. She chided herself on being stupid, tidied herself up and smiled at him with great charm. He kissed her without passion, rather in a brotherly manner, and teasingly asked her whether she would sleep with him again. He promised her to be more polite hereafter, and not to snore. Saying he would see her again very soon, he went back to the feast. The information which he received from the good-hearted Countess was quite contrary to what Grushenka had told him. Of course, the Countess knew nothing about Grushenka's past; in her good-heartedness and naivete, she had not even a suspicion of Grushenka's previous adventures. She supposed the girl to be still a virgin, probably born of as fine parents as a free girl, but forced to sell herself into serfdom to ward off poverty. In liberating the old Prince, she certainly had shown great intelligence and courage, for if Serge had detected the plot, he would have tortured her to death.