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.
“That was partly because you gave her such an admirable first dozen. After that, it was child's play. Is she out from Solitary yet?”
“Came out last night, Head,” said another voice, “distinctly sorry for herself.”
“Did you visit her the day before, Luzie?”
“Yes, Frau Direktrice. I gave her ten.”
“So did I,” said another. “And the bar?”
“Oh yes, she did the bar all right. Lord, how they all seem to hate that.”
“Yes, it's quite salutory. And the swing? Did you put her on that, too? Good.”
“She had one whole morning hanging in the cage and it was so funny, Head, she kept peeing through it.”
“I hope you corrected her for Incontinence.”
“I did,” said the grinning Fraulein Holz, one hand expressively rubbing a meaty hip. “Ten, also.”
They all laughed. Even Frau Grumkow joined in.
“Come to that, I've only had one of you flogged so far this term,” she added with a chuckle. Maria Daunitz stirred in her seat. “I seem to remember you got it twice last half, Holz.”
“I certainly did, Head,” came the equally cheerful reply, “and I can remember every lick.”
Maria's face had darkened at the allusion. She was aware that the Head was staring at her. She wished her friend Inge had been present, but she was on Duty today.
“And do you remember every lick, Daunitz?”
“Distinctly, Frau Direktrice,” she answered at once.
“Do you still have some marks?”
“I… I think so… a little.”
“Show them to us.”
“Certainly.”
Maria was learning. She stood up with alacrity, turned and bared her bottom, raising on high the soft leather skirt. There was a prolonged silence.
“Thank you. You can sit down.” Maria did so and confronted as it were head-on the bright eyes of the French mistress, Jacqueline Bellais, boring into hers. There was something in the expression that locked her own eyes… but the Directress was continuing, “So what did you think of your first birching?”
“Me, Frau Direktrice?” she answered, aware that they were all staring at her now; “I… I thought that, why, it was very severe.”
“Too severe?” The Head's blue eyes were no longer merry.
“No. Just that it seemed… er, a lot… for a little offense.”
Frau Grumkow struck her placid forehead, making her blonde wig dance.
“Good Lord! It's just occurred to me. Daunitz is new to us here, and she probably thinks I was extra-strict with Joyce because she was English.”
“That's heresy,” said Fraulein Katte softly.
“You would never do such a thing,” joined in another shocked tone.
Maria wanted to interject, such had not been in her mind, but the Directress went on at once: “Absolute justice is all we seek at Schloss Rutenberg. No idea of nationality existed or exists in punishing. Joyce was simply… someone to correct. Listen. Here's a wager. I'll send for the girl…”
“It isn't necessary, Frau Direktrice,” Maria murmured unhappily.
“… and ask her direct. If she thinks there was the slightest excess of zeal in her sentence, I shall offer myself in expiation. Yes, Wedell here will be instructed to give these,” and she tapped her tubby bum, “exactly what she gave you.”
Maria again tried to interrupt, but the little woman had tinkled a bell. A pretty maid, engaged in clearing off the dinner next door, appeared instantly. She was a lissome thing, inky-locked and succulently outlined in her short black satin uniform with its tiny apron and cap.
“You sent for me, Madam?”
“Yes, Resi. Fetch the English girl, Hall.”
“Very good, Ma'am.”
The maid curtseyed and left. Maria Daunitz had already learnt (to her own discomfiture, she was sure) that the maidservants employed at the Schloss were a special breed. They occupied a strange stratum in the local hierarchy, being above the girls yet in a curious below-above relationship to the mistresses. The latter could whip the maids, and did, though the whole servant staff came under the iron rule of the head kitchen maid or, as she was better known, the Raumpflegerin. But the maids, mischievous monkeys that they were, did not seem notoriously averse to corporal correction, and could, and did, report the mistresses for delinquencies to the Head. They maintained what Maria conceived to be an almost mockingly respectful demeanor to the teachers, however.
Having prostrated herself and been summoned to stand in the ring before the fireplace, Joyce Hall looked extremely frightened in her succinct gold tunic, or chlamys. She clearly imagined she was likely to be punished again and her sturdy bust wobbled unashamedly.