pain as anything. The whole birching had probably taken six or seven minutes and after it was over, the Headmistress came down to inflict her five master's cuts with the whalebone. These were quite excruciating on the tenderized flesh and each drew a cry from the Amazonic English girl. Finally, let down and restored with salts, she had to stand on a dunce's stool at the door while the school filed out past her ruined cheeks in silence.
A wry smile fled over the lips of the mistress with the birch as she supervised there that each girl had a good look at the effects of punishment-the chest still heaving with sobs and pulled back by the fettered hands, the purpled bottoms quivering as if terrified, huddled together-before turning to curtsy to the Head and return to work. The mistress noted the gleam in the eyes of the Seniors, as, connoisseurs of the rod, they observed such details as drops of blood on one sturdy calf-such lively glances were followed by the ashen faces of the younger. Finally, the girl herself was hurried off in chains to the cellars for her three days of Solitary Confinement where, if she was lucky, she would have to face no more than bread and water, bondage, and a morning beating.
The noon hour, then, was a free one. It was a happy moment of the day when the girls gathered in groups before luncheon at one to exchange stories, make friendships, renew old ones-discuss the com-the idea of discipline had lodged deep within the mnemonic processes of these impressionable maidens, each of whom felt especially privileged to be accepted at Schloss Rutenberg, and much chitchat entered on what school slang knew as klitschklatsch! Gossip was rife. Was it true that the young Prince Frederick was now his father's prisoner, no less? That his best friend was to be executed? That Austria were being as insolent as ever? Well, was the common assent, to much tossing of puerile shoulders, the Austrians would have to learn their lesson, that was all. Like the English, and the French, and the Russians… heavens, didn't everyone?
There was but one flagellatory feature of this noon recess; any girl who had received Detention, and was due to suffer it that afternoon, might get dispensation from the Duty Mistress to pay it off in stripes. Five for an hour, ten for two-and all ten had to be taken together. The character of this little amnesty was more light-hearted than most whippings in the Schloss, and close to some athletic activity. For it was really incumbent on any Senior (at least) awarded an hour to show her Prussian pluck by taking a simple “fiver” with the light classroom cane. Should she not do so, she would hardly rate. Moreover, Detention was extremely unpleasant in these parts.
Accordingly, when the list for it went up at noon, a group of excited younger girls-many with “crushes” on their older colleagues-could be seen clustered in the hall outside the Duty Room. The door of this was left open and any girl could tap on it and enter. The chattering would shush and cease as some Senior strode in and made her request. Then, with hot-gripped hands, the listeners would strain excitedly in the silence so that each single biting snip of the cuts came clearly to them, each dry rap like the snapping of a twig of wood. Then the Senior would emerge, red-faced perhaps but not seriously the worse for wear, though walking rather fast. If forced by pain to grasp and puff she would grin at her audience, and probably take to her heels. But if she could saunter controlledly out, a burst of applause would greet her. And she would blush, and signal to her special friend among the scum to follow her, for a little gentle relief.
This regimen of the rod was thus naturally effected day after day, week after week, throughout the term. The girls accepted it unquestioningly, as prideful part of their special training. Indeed, with the number of them there were, the canings were not too intolerably common. Their presence existed in the mind continually, however. During the afternoon sports, and the evening pre-Prep recreation, where round games and dances were indulged in, the rod was publicly put away-so a visitor might conclude. There would, however, be those destined to make corrective trips to individual mistresses' rooms, and then three or four unfortunates a day, whose names had appeared on the Duty List, could be seen with anything but happy expectations on their anxious faces. These were those who had been told to put themselves in The Book-as the black-bound Bible of Duty corrections, standing on its lectern outside that dreaded chamber, was known.
The following will attend the Duty Mistress at 9:00 p.m…
Those who had been deemed sufficiently naughty to join this wretched rank were, by late afternoon, when the list was posted, in a perfect tizzy of internal butterflies. For the daily Duty punishment was the most dreaded moment in the lives of these pretty pensionaires; it was both ordeal and duel-one fought against the frightful penal cane, longer than most, whippy yet tough enough to make a flugleman cry out. Since Maria Daunitz had already experienced this heartless weapon, it is with her we shall logically visit its application in the Duty Room.
Chapter Five
“Is it really true, Head, that we have a platoon of these colossal foot guards quartered nearby?”
“Yes, with the Fifteenth Dragoons?”
“It's not only true,” said Frau Grumkow, stretching back contentedly in her chair. “But the Count has told me these positive giants need strenuous servicing. I hope you ladies are game. I may be required to send a delegation.”
The mistresses exchanged glances. It was some days later, and this moment after dinner, in the Frau Direktrice's study, was always a pleasant, relaxed one for them all. Only the Duty Mistress for the day, and those taking special assignments in Hall and Prep, ate with the girls. The rest dined with their Head, upstairs, and they dined very well. After dinner, they repaired as now, with great brimming beakers of brandy, to her study to talk and smoke. The Duty Mistress alone was not allowed to drink during her day. On this occasion there were some six mistresses present and, after standing until their almost diminutive-looking Principal had first seated herself facing the fire, they all took low leather chairs around her.
She herself had on a tight, ruffled shirt and a becoming pair of stone-colored velveteen trousers, belted low. She smoked a thin, dark cheroot. Maria Theresa Daunitz, watching from a seat at the side, looked at her with a new respect. That chunky, cheerfully squared off face was really resolution personified.
“I want you to be particularly hospitable to the Fifteenth Dragoons,” she went on (and listening, Maria supplied-on pain of penalty, of course). “I have it from one of the highest families in Silesia- this is to be kept amongst us in total confidence- that our beloved Emperor is contriving a match for the Prince Royal.” She bowed her head in a little genuflection at the words, as did her listeners who thereafter burst into a buzz of excited questionings.
“What? Who is it to be, Head? Do tell us…”
Frau Grumkow stretched out her legs a little further. Karl's prick had really hurt last time. He had no respect for the, ah, weaker sex.
“A Princess of Brunswick-Bevern, that will have to suffice for the nonce,” she said crisply, cutting off their further queries. “The story is, as related to me by the Count, that before the Prince marries her, she will do a year at one of our ladies' seminaries…”
The eager buzz broke out again. They had caught the drift. If only the Schloss could be honored… imagine… a Crown Princess in their midst… baring her bottom for… oh Heavens, it was unbelievable…
“Are… we being considered, Frau Direktrice?” asked Fraulein Holz, leaning forward.
The Head nodded. “We are being considered.”
“Oh how wonderful!”
“What glory!”
“We are being considered,” she added dryly, “together with Wolfenbuttel.”
There were groans at the mention of their nearest rival, a rather larger school near Rostock.
“We are far stricter than Wolfenbuttel,” came one indignant interjection. “We are much more worthy than they.”
“Well, I want to win the honor,” said the Head tartly, puffing at her cigar. “It should be the goal of all of us this term. The decision will not be long delayed. It is for this reason I want each one of you to be on your toes; keep after the scum in particular. They shouldn't feel safe for a second. As a matter of fact, I have thought of increasing the Duty penalty this year.”
“That ought to cheer up the little dears,” said tall Luzie Rombau with a laugh. “I had Duty two days ago and I've never seen such a set of expressions.”
“Nevertheless, they must be kept up to the mark all the time, or they'll get slack. There's only been one birching this term, and that was the English girl.”
“All the same it made her jump a bit, Head,” added broad-browed Katte from her armchair.
