Grushenka. Three Times a Woman Read online

  Jokingly she asked Mihail not to fall in love with Grushenka because she was no match for him. That they might start an affair did not even enter her mind. But of course, that was exactly what happened- and how happy Grushenka was! Mihail, under the pretext of paying his respects to the Countess, had made good his promise and seen her again, and they had set a rendezvous. Grushenka slipped secretly out of the palace that evening and they took a long drive in his carriage.

  They had no intercourse that time, but loved each other like two good healthy young people. The next time, however, she went to his quarters, and they were passionately entwined on his bed before they themselves were aware of it Grushenka, who felt heavenly thrills pass through her body when he only touched her hands, gave him her young body with all the passion and strength she was able to muster. They loved and caressed and kissed each other until complete exhaustion overcame them. Mihail became almost more enamoured of her than she was of him. In fact, she soon became indispensable to him. They kept their meetings very secret and so enjoyed their happiness the more.

  Summer was approaching. Mihail, whose full name was Mihail Stieven, had to go to one of the family estates which he administered for his father. He did not want to part from Grushenka. Naturally he conceived a bold plan to take her away with him as his mistress. Thus, one morning, the Countess received a very well composed letter from Grushenka, who thanked her for her kindness and advised her that she had left for an unknown destination. The night before, Grushenka had smuggled all her belongings out of the palace and had left in a carriage with young Baron Stieven. They enjoyed all the happiness of an elopement. The honeymoon in the country was too wonderful for words-at least Grushenka thought so as she silently said a prayer. In order to giver her standing, Mihail had introduced her as his young wife and Grushenka was the “beloved Baroness” and Tittle mother” of her entourage. He should not have done that, as it turned out later on-but for the present his “young wife” had a rosy time.

  Grushenka, in her profound happiness, treated all the servants with great modesty and care. She was good to everyone, visited sick peasant women, brought food to their children, and the only quarrel she might have had with her beloved man was that he complained that she was too lenient and that she spoiled everyone. She certainly spoiled him with her love. Nightly she encircled his muscular, firm body with her slender form. She gave herself to him without holding back anything, thrilling him to the core with the passion of her love.

  Not that she ever kissed his always-excited love-shaft; much as she wanted to, she did not dare let him know that she understood anything about that kind of love-making. Not that she had caressed or had even taken his instrument in her soft hand; no, as soon as they lay naked in bed together, she beneath him, his tool would find the entrance by itself. But then she would practice her art-moving her buttocks in subtle circles, prolonging moments by forcing him to keep still when she felt that he was too near his goals, stroking his back with her hands and kissing his face, neck and head over and over again.

  Sometimes when he was already in bed and waiting for her impatiently, she would tease him, hiding her love nest and her breasts with her hands, beguiling him by shaking her hips. When she came too near the bed, he would pull her in and it would take no time until she felt his beloved shaft in her burning grotto. She learned to ride a horse; they drove around in his carriage; they took long walks, and they discussed heaven and earth together. His admiration for her intelligence, quick wit and sound judgment grew steadily. He promised himself never to part with this girl, and she was immeasurably happy to feel the grip she had on him. They avoided visiting their neighbors, lest the aristocratic landowners be insulted with her presence. So perfectly did they seem made for each other that the future looked as bright as the present. They never discussed Grushenka's past life; Mihail did not want to know where she came from nor what she had done. She, on the contrary, wanted to know everything about him and he had to tell her his Me from childhood on. One day, after many kisses and goodbyes, Mihail left her to see a neighbor with whom he had to discuss grain prices and other things relating to the accounting which he would have to make to his father about the affairs of the estate. He had been gone a few hours when the carriage returned with his coachman bringing Grushenka the message that she was to take the carriage and meet him at a certain place to which he would ride on horseback. Grushenka had been sitting under a big chestnut tree in the garden, busy with some embroidery. She got into the carriage in her simple house dress without bothering to change or to take a hat. The destination named by the coachman was on the estate and not very far off. The coach drove with great' speed over the rough country ways. A few times the coachman turned his round, kind face back to her with a look in his eyes which she understood only afterwards. After covering a few miles they met a huge traveling coach. The coachman stopped, so did the traveling coach. Two men stepped quickly out, jumped at Grushenka, bound her and gagged her, threw her into the traveling coach and went off with her.

  Grushenka was in a daze. Her own coachman, who naturally should have defended his mistress, had not even looked around. There was no doubt about it, this was a plot. Her abductors had put a kerchief over her head and resistance was impossible. The coach drove on for miles and miles. When the carriage stopped she was forced out, made to go up some stairs, bound to a chair, and then the kerchief was removed from her face. She sat in a well-furnished room, apparently a room of an expensive inn. Her abductors left immediately and she heard them report in the next room that she was safely delivered. Two elderly gentlemen, well-dressed aristocrats, one with snow white hair, entered. They looked sternly at her, especially the older one, who scrutinized her with hard, unkind looks. “So this is the vixen who has bewitched him,” the first broke the silence. “Well, we'll attend to her”-and such anger was in his tone that the other interfered. “We won't make any headway that way,” he said. “Leave her to me and everything will come out all right.” Then he addressed Grushenka, who sat anxious and fearful. “Are you the wife of Baron Mihail Stieven? When and where did you marry him?” “Who are you?” responded Grushenka. “What right have you to ask me-and I am not his wife anyway.'' She added this because she felt fear. “Not his wife?” began the man again. “Well, aren't you living with him?”

  “I love him and he loves me and we can do what we want, can't we?” “Now look here, young woman, this is a matter of grave concern. This man is Mihail's father. Rumors have come to him that his son married secretly. Of course, he was interested in who his daughter-in-law was. Information came to us easily from the serfs of the estate. It's not Mihail's estate, remember, but his father's, and that is why the coachman abducted you today. We have also checked up on your past. That was not hard either. The Countess suspected that it was you who had eloped with Mihail. The girls told us that you had been bought through Madame Laura, who in turn brought us in touch with Marta. She knew all about you. You are nothing but a run-away serf from the Sokolov estate. You've tricked the unsuspecting Mihail, who is only a boy. He would not have lived with you as his wife if he had known that you were only a runaway serf whom we shall turn over to the police. Now confess: when and where did he marry you and what priest performed the ceremony? We have means to make you speak,” he added threateningly. Grushenka felt her hands get numb. She straightened herself up as well as she could and answered with dignity. She had never deceived her beloved Mihail; she had never married him, not even thought of it. He himself had given her a lift when she had fled from Madame Sophia. She loved him dearly and knew very well that he was much too aristocratic and good for her. She was willing to become the serf of Mihail's father of her own free will, if only he would allow her to live near her lover. Her words came unexpectedly to the elderly gentlemen. They seemed to be true and her arguments had weight. The two men had a lengthy discussion in French, which Grushenka did not understand. Mihail's father still seemed incensed, but the other man was more friendly. He proved this
by cutting the strings with which she was tied without warning her not to run away. Finally Mihail's father spoke to her. “I have other plans for my son and I will not allow you ever to see him again. That is final and he will acquiesce to it, because he does what I say. You can choose your own fate. If you are willing to make a sacrifice and stay away from him, I'll take care of you. If not, I'll turn you over to the authorities, to Mihail's and your own ruin. For his mistress and bed-fellow will be whipped naked in a public place. She will be branded with an iron and sent to Siberia, as is becoming to a serf who deserts his rightful master. Take your choice.”

  Grushenka cried. She cried for her lover. The men left her alone and locked the door. When the friend of Mihail's father came back to persuade her, he found that she had made her resolution. Of course she could not spoil the future career of Mihail. She was willing to give him up, and, when she was told that she could not even say goodbye to him, she acquiesced to that also. She was allowed to write him a letter, and she put into her awkward handwriting all the love and good wishes she had in her heart, telling him at the end that he should obey his father. Whether he ever received this letter is a question. The men had supper with her in her room. She was unable to eat, but she managed to sit with them and to speak a little. They looked at her now with other eyes; they found her beautiful and enticing and the friend of Mihail's father remarked that he was punishing his son severely by taking such a lovely companion from him.

  But the old man remained firm and announced what her fate would be. She had to leave Russia immediately. Traveling clothes would be provided for her, also her passport. Trusted servants would accompany her to the frontier. The Baron advised her to open a hairdressing salon or a gownshop with the ample money which he would give her. Also that if she ever tried to get in touch with his son again, he would see to it that she'd die under the knout. This was spoken by a man who had the power to do what he said and whose vengeance would surely follow her if she broke faith. Grushenka understood only too well.

  Fate had taken happiness from her. She had been born a serf; the mighty decided her fate and her tears were not a weapon with which to fight against their will.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Grushenka's trip through Europe is a history in itself, and cannot be retold here. She was young and beautiful, but sad. She had an abundant amount of money, or so at least it seemed to herself. She gave the impression of one of those travelling Russians so well known at that time for their unlimited orgies. Instead of settling down somewhere, she moved restlessly on until she came to Rome. This city impressed her greatly with its splendor and gaiety.

  With the Russian ability for languages, she learned to speak Italian easily. She mixed with all kinds of company; with artists and students; with kept women, and, now and then, even with society.

  After she had gotten over the blow which had struck her, she plunged into countless love-intrigues. But she always was dissatisfied with the men or women with whom she went to bed because her Russian strength and vigor surpassed the ability and appetites of her bed-fellows. She indulged in utter sentimentality or brutal orgies.

  More than once she came into conflict with the police when she had aroused the neighborhood in a drunken frenzy or beaten up her maids in true Russian style. The whip was at that time in use all over the civilized world, but the Italian girls who now served her had a finer constitution than the Russian farmer girls and often fainted under her reckless tortures. Her good rubles, however, got her out of every scrape, and the “wild Russian girl” soon was a familiar figure in the by-ways of old Rome. Drinking and gambling and whoring soon exhausted her purse. She took the ancient way out taken by all Eves; she became a kept woman, ruining her lovers in a short time with her recklessness. Working for a procurer who catered to strangers of the upper class, she again came into conflict with the authorities. As a result she fled to Nuremberg, which at that time had a flourishing Italian colony. But there she could find neither the customers nor the money which she had been accustomed to in Rome. She therefore married a humble German master-baker, but ran away from him without a divorce when his love-shaft became exhausted after the honeymoon.

  Meanwhile her longing to return to Russia had never ceased, and now-she was twenty-seven years of age-she made up her mind to go back.

  Her affair with Mihail, whom she still carried in her heart, would certainly be forgotten by both him and his father. She resolved to open up a modiste shop in Moscow -one like Madame Laura had. She was adventurous enough now not to care where the money came from to start such an enterprise. Thus she stole what she could from her German husband, fitted herself out with an elegant traveling dress and, made up as a woman of the world, soon crossed the Russian border.

  To give herself a good front, she carried many a big trunk, although they were filled only with stones. When she reached the gates of Moscow in a public stage coach, she got out and kissed the walls of the huge gateway. So happy was she to be back home.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The fat little innkeeper indulged in many bows as he showed Grushenka to his “best room.” With many delicious phrases he praised Madame's beauty, admired her new Western traveling dress, humbled himself at the honor to be host to such a great lady.

  But his chatter was intermingled with hidden questions as to the private business of his new guest. Who were her family and relatives in the city? What was her status or occupation? The superficial answers he received were not to his liking. His curiosity had its origin in no personal dislike, nor did it come from anxiety as to whether he would be able to collect his bills. It originated in a very severe ukase of the police to have an eye on lonely women and to report them at once to the authorities. This ukase had been created by pressure of the Church in one of the clean-up actions which periodically befall all moral institutions. Grushenka knew nothing of this, of course. As she took her first stroll through Moscow's elegant streets and earned many appraising glances from the promenading gentlemen, she had every hope for a good harvest At the same' time friend innkeeper sneaked into her room and inspected her belongings with knowing eyes. A locksmith soon notified him as to the contents of her trunks, and he crossed himself with a sigh. She seemed a nice lady all right, but he did not care to go to Siberia for her sake. Harboring an adventuress? No sir, better advise the police. This he did early the next morning. The big, dirty policemen broke into Grushenka's room while she was still soundly asleep. They did not listen to her protests; they made her dress hurriedly, and, not even allowing her to make up with care, drove her to the prison. A matron six feet tall and tough as the devil suggested that Madame take her “nice, clean dress” off before she went to the dirty cell. She grabbed her garments with undue haste and slammed the door. There sat Grushenka in the half-dark cubicle, listening to the shuffle of feet in the busy corridors and the occasional yelling and crying of protesting women. What was its meaning? Why did they lock her up?

  What had she done? She shivered in her bodice and petticoats and her unkempt hair fell down over her nude shoulders. After hours of waiting, two beadles called for her and led her before the district captain. He was a short man, with a round face and small piercing eyes, impatient to get through with his duties. He hardly looked at her passport and asked what the charge was. “She's a whore,” said one of the constables, “that's all.” Grushenka had not expected that. She had no story ready to answer this charge, and, being at a loss for an answer, she sputtered out a lot of words to deny the accusation. The sharp question of the captain as to how she was living received the answer, “on my money.” But she could not prove that she had any. When she said that she had just returned from foreign countries his suspicion arose even more. “Maybe there is more about her than whoring,” he said. “Maybe she is a spy or a member of one of those secret societies who want to throw over our beloved Czar.

  Anyway, make her talk. Put her on the horse. She'll tell us all about it in an hour.” The policemen dragged her away in spit
e of her shrieks and protests. They took her back to the prison and into the torture chamber. They beat and kicked her viciously. She found it better not to fight them and to keep still. “That's better,” remarked one of them, “Behave like a lamb and we will not bite you like wolves”-a joke which both of them greatly enjoyed.. But they took no chances with her. They took off her bodice, removed her stays, tore the ribbon from her petticoat-which fell down by itself-and roughly removed her long trousers. They then tied her arms to her back with a strong cord. After that they took it easy and looked her over.

  Grushenka's figure had changed greatly during her stay in Western Europe. Her fine, gracious form had filled out; she was plump and firm. Her breasts-now moved sharply forward because her arms were forced back-was still of a marvelous firmness. The breasts stuck out without drooping, the waist-line was full and plump, the Venus Hill seemed enlarged and was covered with thick black hair, the legs were rather fat and soft. The most remarkable change, however, was in Grushenka's bottom. This used to be boyish, but now was plump, full and womanly, and swung out from underneath the hips in two blooming buttocks. A woman in her prime stood between the two constables, her long black hair floating down over her shoulders, her blue eyes anxiously looking from one to the other, her full mouth imploring them to spare her. One of them, in a matter of fact way, took her full breasts and fondled them; she could not protect herself from his dirty hands with her arms painfully bound to her back. “I think I am going to poke her before we mount her up,” he said. “She is the fairest of today's newcomers anyway.” “Go ahead,” recommended the other one.