this newcomer because the girl seemed to be unusually well made, obliging and certainly a business proposition if rightly developed. She wanted to see more of her, and demanded that Grushenka take off her kerchief and blouse, under the pretext of finding out whether she might be suitable as a model. Grushenka did as she was told without hesitation, thus adding a new proof that she was not a dumb country girl. In fact Grushenka discarded her skirt and drawers also, and Madame Laura had difficulty in suppressing her wholesome admiration: a perfect shape; straight legs, soft but firm flesh, a morsel for the appetite of the most refined taste of any man.
Madame Laura was a connoisseur. Procuring was her most important magnet for securing a clientele, and she made ample use of it. Who was this girl? Of a sudden she changed her tactics, the smile faded, and Marta was in for it! First Madame Laura asked her sharply to tell the truth. But fat little Marta stuck to her story, stuck to it even when Madame Laura's hand, manipulated on Marta's buttocks, caused her to emit many “Oh'' s and “Ah''s. In Madame Laura's hand was a long needle which Grushenka detected as she stood helplessly aside in her nakedness. After that, Madame Laura began to use stronger means: she opened Marta's blouse, took the girl's left breast from underneath the shirt and, squeezing the breast firmly, pointed the needle anxiously and, as Marta still held to her story, the sharp steel was pricked slowly into her flesh. Marta tried to suppress a howl as a big drop of blood ran slowly down over the milk-white globe. But she clung doggedly to her former assertion. Her face was twisted, tears streamed down her cheeks, but she did not dare tear herself loose and run away. Impatiently Laura rose, took from her desk a short leather whip and demanded that the girl bend over. She tore her drawers down and, as Marta's fat buttocks lay bare, demanded that she tell the truth or be whipped until her flesh was cut to the bone. '
Before Madame Laura could lay the first-smarting blow on the wide target, Grushenka threw herself between her and Marta, exclaiming that she would tell the truth because she could not watch her friend suffer on her behalf. She then related her whole story to the silently listening Madame Laura, who knew that now she learned the true facts.
Here was business for her! But she did not say a word of what was on her mind when Grushenka finally fell at her feet and threw herself at her mercy, imploring her to take her into her services. Instead Madame Laura behaved like a fury and answered that it was an outrage that this run-away slave girl wanted to make her a partner in her crime, reminding her that any person giving shelter or food to a run-away serf was liable to be sent to Siberia. Marta, who had tried to stop Grushenka and who had implored her to let her have her punishment, had to be dealt with first. Laura, who did not want to impair the working value of the girl, gave her six lusty strokes on the bare bottom and sent her away. Marta kissed the hem of her mistress's gown and went weeping back to her work, sending a last pitiful glance at Grushenka who lay sullenly on the floor. Madame Laura speedily got her up, though not without letting her have some lashes from the biting whip. She then led her to one of the empty dressing rooms, locking it resolutely from the outside. While Grushenka, crying helplessly, nude, awaited an uncertain fate between the four partitions of the small dressing room, Madame Laura wrote with her own hand a falsified billet-doux, which she sent away with one of her delivery girls. (We shall hear more about this document later.) As the hours passed, Grushenka stopped crying, having given in to her fate. Probably she would be branded now. They would brand her on the forehead if they sent her away to Siberia, but, if Sophia decided to take her into the whorehouse, she would be branded between the legs or on the shoulder blade so as not to mar her face.
They would lash her, put her on the rack, maybe break her bones… she must wait. She had done wrong. She should not have run away.
She lay motionless on the couch. She heard through the thin partition that the establishment of Madame Laura had become lively.
Deprived of her clothes, she got slowly up from the couch and started to move around in the small dark room. Some light filtered in through cracks in the walls, which she soon found to come from the booths which adjoined hers. She peeked through the crevices and discovered that she had views into the dressing rooms on either side. With the fear of her own fate in her heart, she began watching the happenings alongside of her. In the booth on her right sat an elderly gentleman, very correctly dressed in a long black coat, playing with his three cornered hat. Apparently, he waited for something. The rings on his fingers glittered with precious stones. Grushenka turned to the other wall A stony old woman sat in an easy chair. She was dressed in flashy colors; laces, ribbons and feathers hung all around her as if she were a young chicken. She supported herself with an oak staff, but, despite her old age and crazy dress, her bearing was impressive and commanding. Next to her sat a nondescript woman companion, while Madame Laura and one of her models tried to sell her a hat. The model and Madame Laura took new ones from white and cream colored boxes and described their beauty with sweet smiles and sentimental words, but the customer would not be satisfied. As a matter of fact, the old hawk rejected the idea of buying with the outspoken words which one would have expected from the mouth of an army sergeant. Madame, in turn, poked the model in the ribs and in the back, and, although the girl preserved her frozen smile, there was no doubt that Madame's finger held a needle which drove her saleslady to every possible effort to make the old lady buy. No such luck! She got up, remarking that nothing charming enough could be found to adorn her wrinkled old face, and shuffled out of the room. After Madame had bowed her out, she turned around and hit the model soundly in the face, leaving her to repack the expensive hats. The girl was accustomed to such happenings. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and went slowly but dutifully on with her work. Grushenka turned back to the peephole in the other wall and, as she expected, found Madame and the gentleman in animated conversation. It seemed that the gentleman had just paid a bill to Madame, probably for clothes which his wife had ordered. But he still had something on his mind. Madame knew very well what it was, but made a little play so as not to recognize his wishes too quickly- The gentleman, leaning from one foot to the other and stroking his mustache, finally said that he would like to see some styles, if Madame had a few models who could show him her newest creations. Madame smilingly asked whether he wanted to see the same models as the last time and whether it was not a good idea to show him her new line of underwear. The gentleman hastened to answer that the models the other day had been very lovely indeed, but that he would not mind seeing some others-all very lovely and very obliging, he was sure, if they worked for the famous Madame Laura-and that underwear was quite to his liking.
Madame responded that she would show him a few models, that he should act as Paris did with the Greek Goddesses but-Madame looked down at her hands which played with a few gold pieces. The gentleman smiled, assured her that the delicacy with which she handled the matter could not be surpassed by the most refined French woman-a compliment which Madame ate up eagerly-and he slipped her some more gold rubles. Madame Laura then left him to get her girls. The gentleman took off his long formal coat, displaying a waistcoat with silver buckles matching exactly his shoe buckles. No doubt this man was a dandy. His white wig with pigtail was immaculate, his black breeches and stockings of finest silk. He sat down on the couch and loosened the top button of his trousers with the beaming face of a man who knows that he will be taken care of. Presently Madame came back leading a flock of models, good looking girls with all kinds of figures, from the tiny blonde to the statuesque brunette. The girls wore all types of underwear but were uniform in one respect; they wore no stays, but small bodices, which hardly covered the lower half of their breasts and which left the nipples free. They had on embroidered shirts and long lace trousers, reaching to the ankles. While they walked around in a circle, through the open slits of their pantaloons one could get a glimpse of blonde, brown, or dark hair, an effect arranged that way by Madame, who understood showmanship. The girls hardly looked in the direction of the man; they did not want to attract his attention because they knew that he would pick out one of them for his purposes. He had them go around a few times, smacking his lips and looking them over very carefully. At last he pointed at two of them, both of them small girls without very good figures, at least in the judgement of the watching Grushenka. Madame dismissed the other girls, who left the room with an expression of relief, and, taking 'the two who remained into a corner, she whispered a harsh command.
The girls looked at her anxiously but seemed otherwise unmoved by what she said to them. Turning to the gentleman, Madame Laura now remarked that he had chosen two very obliging girls, but, should he have any complaint, she had a well-working leather whip which would change the mind of any stubborn little brat. Then, with a majestic nod, she left him. The girls sat down on the couch on each side of the man, put their arms around him and cuddled themselves against him with a faint, “Hello, uncle.” He, in turn, put his arms around their backs, grabbed then-breasts and was pleased with their behavior. “Now girls,” he started, “first of all close the slits of your trousers and don't let that nasty hair peek out there. Sure, I believe that you have little nests down there, but who wants to get busy with such dirty little places?” The girls lapped over the sides of their drawers, closing the openings, and continued their dalliance. Cuddling him, one of the girls' hands passed the front of his trousers and he took hold of it and indicated that it was to open up his breeches.
Fumbling around with the buttons, the girls opened up the breeches and took out his instrument. It did not
