These branches stung like fury and it was not long before little spasmodic clenchings were visible testimony of their bite. They hissed like asps in the silence. The hands, manacled behind, fisted and scratched. But she endured her first dozen without a sound. A second mistress came forward for the second and, anxious to show her mettle, soon drew up lively wales and grazed blisters of skin. The twigs dug in pitilessly on the right as the punishment began to be worthy of the name. Each cut now drew a violent jerk and a strangled gasp. The buttock masses tightened frantically and the mistress was able to draw out the strokes considerably. A skilful bircher could keep a girl at the summit of pain with no more than four a minute, though the pace was usually faster than this in order to effect that psychological and most absolute victory of correction-when the whipped girl simply could not get her senses to believe she could take another. This final stage of utter absolution was effected for Joyce by the third mistress, who delivered the last eleven after the girl had been thoroughly revived for the ordeal with smelling salts and a bucket of brine emptied over her buttocks.
These were now, on the right at least, a hatched crisscrossing of purplish wales and weals, flecked with ruby pearls where the skin had broken under some particularly toughly pickled bud. These final strokes, of supreme severity, drove all color from the faces of the junior classes watching. They ended in a flurry of passionate tears from the victim, a sudden sobbing that broke out as much at the degradation of being made, at last, to show her 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.”