Grushenka. Three Times a Woman

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, quite early, Grushenka, who had slept soundly in a bed that seemed to her the best she had ever had, was awakened by noisy shouting. With wondering eyes she looked about her. A hundred girls and women seemed to fill the big loft, yawning, shouting, babbling and laughing in a confusion of washing and teasing and dressing and admonishments to hurry up.

Actually, there were only sixty-three servant girls housed here, ranging in age from fifteen to about thirty-five. Younger and older women were not kept in the city palace. The girls put on all kinds of dresses, according to their duties; the kitchen maids, dark woolen garments; the linen and silver maids, a white uniform-like costume; the sewing squad, flowery cashmeres. The personal chamber and bedmaids of the Princess, about eight or ten in all, and the special favorites of the Prince, slept near the apartments of their masters.

Some privileged elderly women and cooks had quarters in the basement.

Soon they were all sitting on long benches in a big hall near the kitchen in the basement, and steaming soups and white bread were devoured in great quantities. Katerina always saw to it that the servants got plenty to eat. Not that she was concerned with their likes and desires. She simply wanted to keep them content and healthy, to enable them to perform their duties to the last ounce. Katerina was quite a fanatic on this point and any shirker could be sure of the whip, if not of a harder punishment. After breakfast, Grushenka received the curt order to go to the bathroom. She could not imagine why. She had never before been allowed more than one bath in a month; bathing was expensive because it meant fire-wood. Yet, now she was bathed and scrubbed thoroughly. Furthermore, the bath-girls were told to clean her up every day right after breakfast and to see to it that she was spotless or else they would be sorry. The bath-girls took no chances and they scrubbed and rubbed and cleaned her everywhere and anywhere. Grushenka was then told to take her clothes over her arm and to wait in the try-on room for Katerina. There she sat now, on an oaken trunk full of precious silks and embroideries, shivering after the bath, her clothes clutched to her body. Many maids passed through the room, walking here and there, some times giving her a friendly nod, mostly not taking notice of her. Presently Katerina appeared, and seeing Grushenka, she went to a closet and got a box of powder and a big powder puff. She proceeded to teach her how to powder her whole body, omitting no part. Then she suddenly remembered the shaving business. She sent for Boris, who was soon there with his outfit of razors and soap. “You heard what Her Highness said yesterday,” she addressed the barber. “Shave cleanly her hair under the arms and between the legs. But don't cut her. We paid a big price for the bitch.” Boris made Grushenka hold both her arms straight up and soaped and shaved her under the arms, quite cleverly and quickly. He then glanced over to see if Katerina was still there. He had never before shaved a girl's pubic area and he wanted to have some fun with it. But Katerina stood solidly there, leaning on an oaken stick and looking sternly at Boris, who quickly avoided her eyes.

Grushenka was now laid on a table with her legs apart. Katerina saw that the marks of the switch were clearly visible in red-violet welts. “She has a softer skin than all of them,” thought the old housekeeper, but not with pity, rather with a resolution that she would thrash the girl more often in order to get her used to it.

Grushenka was trembling nervously as Boris, with his scissors, cut the long curls from her Mount of Venus and below. He then soaped her with his brush and expanded the skin with two fingers of his left hand. There followed the soft grating of the knife, that cut the hair closely to the white flesh. He started to put his fingers between the folds as if to extend the skin better, but Katerina tapped sharply with her stick and he thought better of it. A wet towel was now applied and the job was done. Katerina called out to the sewing rooms next door that a couple of dressing girls should come in. She had Grushenka dressed up in one of the Princess' outfits to see whether she would really do as a model for the new summer wardrobe.

Long silk stockings were applied, a chemise with golden threads was put on her. Long trousers, fitted and closed with ribbons on the ankles, came next. A crimson bodice without stays was tied on. (Stays were worn in Western Europe at that time, but not in Russia, where the elegant women liked to show their breasts with the nipples sticking out above their dresses.) A tunic, which took the place of the skirt and blouse, was then hooked and buttoned, and over this fell a long loose cloak, leaving the arms underneath bare. During this procedure all the girls of the tailoring and sewing departments had left their work and watched eagerly. When Grushenka was ready and was told to walk up and down the large room, turning and displaying the costume and herself, the watchers clapped their hands and stamped their feet.

“That is our Princess!” they cried. “Just like her! Can you imagine?”

Katerina heard this outburst with satisfaction. Yes, she had found the clotheshorse for her mistress. Grushenka was instructed that she was to be used from now on as the fitting model for Her Highness. Then and there started for Grushenka a long period of waiting and dreaming, dreaming and waiting until some dressmaker would come around and fit some garments on her, turning her around and around, trying on, admiring his own craftsmanship, or cursing the sewing girls who had done a bad job. These try-ons were at first very displeasing to Grushenka, because all these workers, men and women, some of them serfs, some of them free people, who called themselves artists, touched her body all over and took many liberties with her. This was all the more so because she was such a perfect counterfeit of her Madame, before whom these men crawled on their bellies. Thus it was fine fun for them to paw her breasts, to pinch her nipples and to play around quite abundantly with her privates. This last Grushenka hated especially and she tried to shove them away, only to be stuck painfully with a needle in the buttocks or in the breast. So she got used to it, especially when she found that when she resisted she was plagued much more, but if she kept still, the men were not so insistent. Months went by this way, first in the palace in Moscow, then at one of the great estates in the country; months of dreaming and waiting. Of course, Grushenka, meanwhile, got well acquainted with the great household. She listened to the gossip about the brutal and drunken Prince, whom the Princess hated, but played up to; of the young lover the Princess had taken; of the way she had her bed-maids make love to her to satisfy her everlasting cravings. But Grushenka heard these tales without taking notice and nobody seemed to take much notice of her. It was hard to say of what she was thinking, maybe of the clouds which passed along or of a bird in the big tree outside the window. Then came the day which changed her whole life. The Princess had been out to a party and it had turned out badly. Even her lover had neglected her, nay, had flirted openly with a rival. The Princess had drunk too much, had had an argument with another lady, and her husband, the Prince, furious at such misbehavior, had slapped her face violently while driving home.

Nelidowa was wild. She accused everybody but herself. She let the whip fly freely on the backs of the girls who undressed her and still was not able to ease her rage. When she saw her brocaded gown with the silver stripes lying on the floor, she suddenly remembered that Grushenka had modeled it for her approval that same afternoon. In her crazed state, she imagined that this gown and thus the girl who had displayed it, were responsible for her misadventures. It was two o'clock at night and Grushenka was fast asleep, when she was dragged naked from her bed. Drunk with sleepiness and knowing of no fault she had committed, the girl was taken before her mistress. The Princess, now in bed, accused her in the vilest terms of having induced her to wear an unbecoming dress and ordered one of the chambermaids to lash Grushenka over her bare back with the leather whip which lay always ready for this purpose on the toilet table. Another maid stepped in front of Grushenka, turning her back toward her, took the arms of the frightened girl over her shoulders and bent forward so that Grushenka lost her foothold on the floor and lay helplessly on the back of the chambermaid. The whipping started at once. The strokes cut whistling through the air. The shoulders, the back, the behind were hit and hit by a rain of blows. Grushenka did not know that the whipping girl applied the punishment with great craftsmanship, cracking the whip loudly but taking care that the lash cut the flesh as little as possible, for this girl was angry at her Madame and sorry for the innocent victim. In spite of this fact, Grushenka underwent awful pain and screamed and kicked her legs as well as she could. The Princess lay in her bed, her teeth bared in rage, her fingers with their long nails held in the form of claws as if she wanted to scratch the flesh off the girl's bones. Although not told to, the whipping girl finally ceased beating as if she were exhausted from swinging the lash and Nelidowa did not command her to go on because she felt suddenly sick from the liquor she had drunk. Grushenka was now lowered to the floor and, putting both her hands to her aching behind, she walked straddle-legged from the room. At this moment the eyes of the Princess fixed on Grushenka's slit, which, having been shaven as usual, was entirely open to sight. The Princess stared hard at this because it was formed differently than her own, while the girl was supposed to have a body similar to hers. Nelidowa did not say a word about this dissimilarity, but she kept the thought in her mind.

How was it that Grushenka had a nicer love spot than she herself? One afternoon, when Nelidowa lay idly on her couch, she made up her mind to find out and forthwith sent for Grushenka. She made the girl take her clothes off and was glad to see the blue and red stripes which the whip had left, especially on one side of the body where the end of the strap had cut the flesh. She asked Grushenka to come very close to her, straddle-legged, so that she could inspect her. Of course the slit was very finely made; the Princess had to tell herself that in spite of the anger she felt. The lips were thin and rosy and cut the oval of the Venus hill in an even curve which did not stick out and puff up like her own. With her eyes on the girl's spot, but without touching her, Nelidowa started to question her. “When were you laid last?” she began. Grushenka hardly understood the meaning of the question. But the Princess insisted, “How long ago is it, since you were poked by a man?” Now Grushenka knew what was meant and answered quite firmly, “No man has ever touched me, your Highness. I am a virgin.” “Oh!” thought the Princess. “Of course. When I was still with the nuns my pussy was probably like hers, but since that old bastard (by which she meant of course the Prince) every so often puts his damned machine in me…” But aloud she said with laughter, “I'll fix you up my child, and that right now. Still a pimply virgin, eh? You lie down here now and we'll soon attend to you.” She got up from the couch with some spirit. She enjoyed this splendid idea. It would pass the time piquantly. Who to get for the job? Oh, yes, there was her riding groom, that broad-shouldered fellow with the big bush of tousled hair. His blondness would make a good match for Grushenka's deep black hair. Nelidowa had looked sometimes with longing at Ivan (she had a habit of calling all male servants Ivan) and had more than once glanced over his muscular arms and legs and rested her eyes on his trousers. She would have tried him herself, but she had no desire for the brand of brutal male love which her husband supplied. However, this was just the right man to rape that stupid lump on the couch.

Ivan had been loading hay. When he came in, in linen trousers and an open shirt, hay was still clinging to his hair and clothes and he brought with him the smell of the stable. Meanwhile, the five or six chambermaids who were always around their mistress, had not been idle.

They enjoyed in advance, like Madame, the spectacle which was coming.

They had put a pillow under Grushenka's bottom, with much giggling they had smeared some salve in her gap, and pitied her in mock tones that she was going to be torn. Grushenka lay very still, her hands clasped to her face, uneasy and wondering. Perhaps she had dreamt during the past months of the lover to whom she wanted to give herself. Perhaps she had made him a romantic hero, some man from the moon. Yet here she lay, waiting to be ravished by a stable boy.

“Ivan,” said the Princess, “I have called you because this poor girl complained to me that no man has ever made love to her and her virginity is itching her terribly. Go on, my boy, and make a poor longing virgin happy.” Ivan looked bewildered from his mistress to the nude form on the couch and again from one to the other. He fingered his hands before his body as though he were holding a cap and turning it uneasily around. He did not move. Was it a trap or was she serious? The Princess was becoming impatient. “Get your trousers down! Don't you hear?” she shouted at him. Ivan mechanically opened up his trousers. They fell to his feet and he pulled his shirt up over his navel. The eyes of all the girls, except Grushenka's, stared at his big dark tool which hung its head listlessly and unfit for work. “Now go over a kiss your bride,” continued the mistress, leaning on the toilet table. Slowly, Ivan moved to the couch, then with a determination to go ahead, he took Grushenka's hand from her face, bent over her and kissed her on the mouth. The chambermaids applauded. But Grushenka lay so lifeless that Ivan lost his pluck again. He fidgeted, looked at the naked girl and at the others and did nothing more. It was again the Princess who had to bring the proceedings to life. “Lay on top of her, you stupid ass!” she cried. As ordered, so was it done. Ivan, hindered in his movements by the trousers around his ankles, laid himself on top of Grushenka. And suddenly he began to enjoy the job to which he had been assigned. Grushenka kept her legs closed and pressed her knees so tightly together that they hurt, but Ivan struggled to get between. He moved a bit, got his strong hand between her thighs and with a sudden jerk, lifted her right leg high up, almost to her shoulder. He now got between her legs with his own. The resistance of the girl made him hot. The moment his manhood touched her, Grushenka lost her apathy, and with a wild scream, started to fight.

Ivan had his arms around her, the left one over her right shoulder, the right one in the middle of her back. The tight grasp and the weight of him could not be shaken off. But Grushenka could move her hips and her legs and she made ample use of these when the dangerous shaft came in contact with her love-nest. The Princess, who would have killed any serf not performing her orders, was highly delighted to see this struggle and slipped her hand under her chemise to give herself a soft caress with her fingers. Ivan tried to find his way. He moved his right hand under the buttocks of the struggling girl. He lifted his own behind and tried by crafty pushes to find the entrance, but now one of the maids came to his help. She went around the couch and caught Grushenka's other knee which she forced up against Grushenka's shoulder and moved it so that the virginal love-spot lay unprotected and open. “Now!” shouted all the watchers, and Ivan, well understanding that he was at last in position, lowered his weapon with force. Pressing with his right hand against the girl's bottom, with one firm and slow stroke, he thrust himself in up to the hilt.

Grushenka let out a terrible cry. After that she lay still as a corpse. Ivan moved back and forth several times until, passionately groaning, he felt he could not hold it any longer. He spent. His muscles relaxed; breathing heavily he lay on her, stupidly exhausted.

The Princess was furious, her maids disappointed. They had hoped to see a good, long match, but it was over before it had really started. Certainly there was nothing thrilling in that. “Get out! You brute!” commanded the Princess. “Get back to your stable and stay there!” Ivan collected his pants, dropped his head and left the room like a beaten man. He did not dare to look up or to glance at Grushenka. She lay with a pale face like a corpse on the couch, the middle of her body still raised by the pillow under her. She had fainted and one could see that she was quite ill. With dismay the Princess had her carried up to her room. What sort of girl was this-who could not even stand a poke? That was what she said to a lady at afternoon tea as she was relating the story, and added that the silly peasants were too stupid for words. The lady was not of that opinion. She answered that she often arranged a party for some of her hand-maids and serf-men and that they put on very exciting shows. She promised to invite Nelidowa as spectator to such a party and the Princess graciously accepted. Meanwhile, Grushenka was in her bed, taken care of by Katerina. Katerina was afraid this episode might lead to pregnancy, and though she knew how to handle an abortion, she was afraid Grushenka's figure might change and Grushenka had become very useful. The scenes the Princess used to make because of her try-ons had been avoided since Grushenka had taken her place as a model. Therefore Grushenka had been washed and cleaned and, in spite of her protests, a hot irrigation had been made with water into which Katerina had put a powder. Next a cold wet towel was put between her legs. It did not ease the pain. She still had to overcome the shock which the rape had effected. She was allowed to stay in bed all the next day by the old housekeeper, who muttered, “What a soft girl! What a soft girl!”