by AnonYMous
Grushenka had never known fine people, so the rudeness of the Prince did not shock her. On the contrary, his brutal force and immense vitality captured her and made her forget the repulsion which his belly might have inspired. She loved his scepter. She began not only to massage it, but to caress it, to kiss it. He thought first that she wanted a gift from him, perhaps one of his estates or a will made out in her favor. But when no such demands came, he felt with pleasure what a passionate, refined and loving wife he had. Grushenka had a much easier time with him than Nelidowa used to have. The Princess always used to aggressively try to stop him from taking hold of her body with his hands, but now the Prince was stiff before Grushenka was in bed and she sat on him before he could annoy her with his hands.
Besides, she made love with so much passion that she did not mind when he squeezed her nipples while his machine was inside her. During the intermission, he lauded her with teasing words about her newly found temperament but hardly touched her, waiting until she should take hold of him again. She sometimes lay between his legs, raising his big behind with a pillow, and kissing him. She quivered all over and got immensely excited, and worked herself up by pressing her legs close together. Sometimes Nelidowa would watch this scene out of curiosity, jealous that the girl enjoyed it so much. Afterwards she would pinch her and scold her about something and then again she would kiss the girl's mouth because she felt the contamination of the excitement which had gotten hold of Grushenka. Sometimes she would decide to go to her husband herself, but at the last moment she would change her mind, and go to her lover. If he were not in the neighborhood, she would have one of her maids satisfy her caprice.
All went well except for some small incidents. For example, the master would tell Grushenka something he wanted done the next day and she, not familiar with the people concerned or with the facts, would have a hard time remembering exactly what he had said. Or the Princess would be asleep when she came from the master's bedroom and she would lie awake the whole night so as not to forget. At other times, Grushenka would have a rash or pimples on her face which Nelidowa did not have and she would be much afraid of detection in spite of the subdued light in his bedchamber. Nelidowa told her lover the huge joke she had played on her mate and smuggled him into her own bedroom and prepared with care the comedy of watching the session between her husband and Grushenka. When Gustavus arrived, she presented Grushenka to him and made him compare them to find out who was who. To her great satisfaction, he was not for a moment in doubt, although they wore no clothes. The reason for his quick judgment was that Nelidowa alone spoke, while Grushenka kept silent with a smile on her lips. She wanted to please Gustavus of whom she had heard so much; she had a romantic affection for him through Nelidowa. Grushenka liked Gustavus as soon as she laid eyes on him. He was so gracious in his movements, his bearing was elegant, his hands were white, fine and well taken care of, in great contrast to those of the Russian men. He was eager to point out differences between the two; a little mole underneath the shoulder blade, the different shape of the bust, the flavor of the hair. Of course, “his love” was more beautiful. Though this pleased her, Nelidowa had to show him that she was the mistress and Grushenka the slave. First she told him what a pig Grushenka was for liking the love-making of the Prince, then she turned Grushenka around and around, exposing her in every fashion. Just then a message came from the Prince, who expected the Princess. Grushenka moved her hand over her bust and belly as if she were stroking her skin. She then stepped into the little blue slippers and went towards the bedroom of the Prince-husband. Nelidowa and Gustavus followed.
Tip-toeing quietly, they took posts at the crack of the door.
Grushenka, well aware of the watchers and annoyed by the humiliation to which Nelidowa had submitted her, did not follow the usual behavior. The lovers at the door could see the Prince on a bed with light blue silk covers, resting on his back, his fingers playing a happy rhythm on the bed sheet, his lips sensually pursed; the picture of a man who knows that he will be taken care of shortly. The door through which the lovers peeped faced the foot of the bed, and his monstrous hairy body and big belly were plainly visible.
Grushenka leaned over and took him in her left hand, caressing him. The gentle treatment soon made the machine stiff. Grushenka did not kiss it; she pointed maliciously with her tongue in its direction and smacked her lips, but she did not embrace the shaft with them.
Instead, she mounted. The lovers could clearly see how Master Priapus slowly poked his nose into her love-nest. Grushenka bent forward, and giving over her splendid breasts to his grasping hands, made a few firm up and down movements. Then, of a sudden, she bent back.
Opening her knees as wide as possible, she leaned so far back that her elbows almost touched her own heels. Of course the fat master was unable to reach any part of her body in this position, and groaning with excitement, he swore at her to bend forward. He used all the curse words he knew and his short arms waved with helpless strokes through the air. It was a funny picture; the riding girl and the pinioned monster who had to submit to his excitement, though mad to reach her. It was so funny a picture that Nelidowa and Gustavus could not restrain their giggles. The Prince was startled. Who was at the door? He moved and was about to throw his fair rider off to investigate. Grushenka, sensing the danger, threw herself forward, and pressing him into the cushions with her weight, began to smother his face and head with kiss- es and the caresses of her hands. This brought about his crisis. Thus the lovers had time to escape. Of course, the second party, when Grushenka was riding the other way around, could not be observed by them, but as by that time Nelidowa was already squirming under the pressure of her beloved “soldier,” perhaps it did not matter much.
CHAPTER SIX
When Prince Sokolow was on one of his estates, the Princess usually contrived to have Gustavus as house guest with them. The Prince was usually building and constructing and Gustavus had become his architect. Therefore there was no reason for misconstruing his presence. The Princess went to her lover's room as soon as Grushenka was with her husband. Great precaution was taken to prevent detection, lest their idyll be destroyed. But in Moscow it was very dangerous to smuggle Gustavus nightly into the palace, so he took a suite not far from the Sokolows', and Nelidowa stole out of the house at night by a small back door and visited him. That is what she had done one night, the dramatic events of which will now be told.
The Prince and Princess had been to a ball. They came home together, she gaily talking; he as usual, saying little. He told her to come to him as soon as she was ready. Entering her room, the Princess called Grushenka and while she changed from her ball gown to a simple street dress, not forgetting to put some perfume under her arms and between her legs, Grushenka left for the bedroom of the Prince. Soon afterwards, Nelidowa departed from the palace. The first encounter between Grushenka and the Prince took place as usual.
Grushenka was a bit lazy and tired that day. In fact she had been sleeping before the couple came back from the ball. Having accomplished her aim, she stretched herself alongside of him and started mechanically preparing for the second encounter. The Prince began, in a muttering way, a conversation. “How did you like the diamond necklace which the Countess of Kolpack was wearing tonight?” he asked. “Ah! Splendid!” replied Grushenka indifferently. “Do you intend to go to the tea-party of Countess Kolpack?” continued the man. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won't,”
Grushenka said, trying to imitate the nonchalant ways of her mistress.
But to her great surprise and fright, the Prince sat suddenly upright, put his one hand on her throat and with the other seized her hair.
“Who is the Countess Kolpack?” he shouted. “Who is she? Who is she?”
Such a countess, in fact, did not exist. “Well, well-” was all Grushenka could mutter under his grip. She felt the game was up. She felt that the question had been a trap. She knew everything was lost.
It was. One of his man-servants had to
ld all to the Prince, who had investigated carefully and learned everything, even knew that at this very minute his cheating wife was in the arms of her lover. But he wanted to make sure. He wanted the facts first hand. “Who are you? Don't lie!” he cried into Grushenka's face, lessening his grip to give her an opportunity to speak. “Who am I-” stuttered the frightened serf-girl. “Well, don't you know your own wife? Have you lost your mind? God forgive me!” and she crossed her heart in great anguish. The gong sounded. The servant, prepared in advance, came in. Grushenka was seated on a chair. The Spanish shoes were brought in and put on her feet. The wooden edges of this instrument, invented during the Inquisition, pressed painfully against the flesh and bones of her nude feet even before the servant started to turn the screws.
The Prince stopped him. He addressed her, almost formally, asking her again to confess who she was. She kept her mouth shut. She bit her lips. A motion from the Prince and the servant made the first turn.
Her feet went numb. The second turn-the pain shot up her body.
Screaming, she twisted in her chair, trying to liberate herself. She was mad with fright and pain, even though the wood had actually not yet cut her skin. Then she gave in. She promised to confess everything; the screw was unloosened, so was her tongue. In a stream of tears, she confessed. When she came to the end, she threw herself at the Prince's feet and begged for mercy, not for herself, but for her poor mistress. He just frowned at her incoherent utterances. He told the servants to lead her away as arranged in advance. She was taken howling and screaming to the torture chamber in the basement. Large torches were set ablaze. She was put on a chair with two arms but no back. Her arms, from the elbows to the wrists, were fastened to the arms of the chair; a leather strap secured her tightly to the corners of the seat. After the two male serfs had done this job, they were uncertain what to do next. They felt her allover, had their jokes with her and discussed whether they should make her service them. While Grushenka had been in the service of her mistress and taken her place with the master, none of the serfs had dared to touch her. But now she seemed doomed. Why shouldn't these servants use her before her bones were broken on the rack! For that was, in their opinion, the least the master would do. Uncertain as the whole affair was, however, they decided to nap until further orders were forthcoming, and they stretched themselves out on the floor in a half sleep. Grushenka looked around. She had plenty of time to observe the gruesome room. Next to her stood a chair similar to the one she was strapped to. All kinds of handles and machinery were underneath the seat, but she could not make out what they were for. In the middle of the room was the flogging block over which she had been laid by Katerina, a kind of saddle on four legs with rings and ropes on it to tie the delinquent in the most receptive position. One wall was covered with all kinds of beating instruments: knouts, leather straps, whips and the like. On the next wall were the racks; ladder-like frames against which the culprit was fastened, while light and heavy bats stood around with which legs or arms could be broken.
Chains and hanging racks, on which the man or woman to be punished was hung in such a way that the arms were twisted backward, completed the outfit of the room, a replica of which existed in the houses of all the masters of that time. While Grushenka observed all these terrors, Prince Sokolow acted according to his plan. He dressed in a Russian blouse and high boots. He had his servants pack his trunks. He then went down to the back entrance through which Nelidowa was to come home. He took a low stool and sat down, watching the door. He sat thus for many hours, motionless, staring at the door, not closing or even blinking an eye. Dawn came, and with it Nelidowa. She entered with light steps, in a hurried and satisfied mood after a good night with her lover. As soon as she closed the door, the short and tremendously strong Prince sprang at her, lifted her high in the air and flung her over his shoulder, her head and the upper part of her body dangling on his back. She uttered a piercing cry. She struggled to liberate herself, not knowing who had seized her. He carried her swiftly to the chamber where Grushenka sat. “Tear the clothes from her body and strap her to that chair!” he commanded the serfs, throwing her in their direction. The Prince sat down on a low bench and waited for his order to be carried out. This was not very easy, for Nelidowa put up a terrific battle. She swore at the servants, she hit with her fists, she bit, she kicked-all to no avail. Her clothes were torn from her body, one man holding her hands against her back, while the other one removed one garment after the other. First came the skirt, then the trousers and the stockings. As soon as the lower part of her body was naked, one slave put his head between her legs. Holding her feet, he raised himself up and stood straight, so that she hung on his back.
The other man took a short knife, cut open her sleeves from the wrist to the shoulder, then did likewise to her blouse and chemise. She was nude. They fastened her on the chair the same way they had Grushenka, and one of the men, with a bow, announced to the Prince that they were finished. The Prince ordered them from the room.
Nelidowa understood the situation perfectly by this time. But with a haughty air she demanded that she be set free immediately, shouting that he had no right to punish her like that squealing brat, that serf girl next to her; that it was his fault and not hers that she had deceived him, because he was a brute, a monster with whom no decent woman would sleep. She told him that he was repulsive to her, that she despised him, that if she had not found this substitute she would have left him openly-and so on. In her rage she made a full confession about her love for Gustavus and how she was going to marry him as soon as she was rid of her tormenter. The Prince did not reply. He inspected the nude women, amazed at their likeness. He felt no pity in his heart, not for them and not for himself. He knew her confession without having to listen to it. It was true! She had deceived him. Everybody but he had known it a long time. She had defied him doubly; put a serf girl in his bed while she lay with her lover. A huge joke on himself. It had to be punished thoroughly.
He first went behind Grushenka's chair. He turned a handle. The seat on which the girl was sitting lowered itself down. Through holes in the seat came wooden nails, the points sticking upwards. Grushenka felt them pierce the flesh of her buttocks. At the same time the arms of the chair gave way while she tried frantically to get a hold on them. The braces of the arms fitted into tubes and she could not hold her weight on them. Her feet did not reach the floor; she sat on the nails and her own weight was driving them slowly and with increasing pain into her tender flesh. The Prince stepped behind the chair of his wife and unloosened here also the bolts which held the seat and the arms. After that he went with slow steps to the wall and took down a short leather strap and turned to his wife. “I should burn your body which betrayed me and your mouth which just now besmirched me, with hot irons to mark you forever,” he said in a low voice. “I will not do so. Not because I love or pity you, but because I understand that you are branded for life with a more terrible stigma. You are a low creature, not born to be a Princess. It was my error that I took you and I beg you to forgive me-” He made a low bow while she sneered at him. “-but you must be punished in order to know who the master is.” Those were his only words to his wife and were the last he ever spoke to her. With firm, strong lashes of his muscular arms, he now began to whip her. He started with her back, laying stroke after stroke from her shoulders down to the lowest part of her body. The lashes hissed through the air. Nelidowa yelled and cried. She was unable to hold still. The points of the nails tore her bottom and cut the flesh more and more when she twisted around under each stroke. Her back, of which she was so proud, was covered with welts, but the Prince was not yet satisfied. He now began in front, hit her feet, her legs, stood before her on an angle and hit into the full length of her thighs. He beat her belly and-without fury or hurry-finished up by laying cutting lashes over her breasts. He stopped only after he found her whole body was a mass of bruises. Nelidowa did not cease to yell and cry and Grushenka mingled her own outcries with those of
her mistress, not only because the nails bit into her bottom, but also out of compassion. She expected the same treatment but Sokolow resolved otherwise. He threw the whip away, came very close to her, looked into her fear-striken eyes, and said, “You did wrong. I am your master. You should have told me the first time-" and he gave her two good smacks in the face as he would have done to any servant who had forgotten something. He left the room and slammed the door behind him.
There the two women sat on the nails, not knowing what the future had in store. Nelidowa cursed Grushenka and promised to roast her to death as soon as she could lay hands on her. She howled in her pain and tried to faint. Grushenka wept softly and avoided moving her body to lessen the pain from the nails. The torches burnt slowly down. The room became dark. The sobbing and wailing cut through the dark silence. The Prince ordered a carriage. He went to Gustavus' house. He was bent on action. He aroused a sleeping servant, pushed him aside, strode into Gustavus' bedroom, which was already filled with the first morning light, and awakened the soundly sleeping Adonis with a punch in the face. Gustavus jumped out of his bed. The Prince pointed a pistol at the naked form of his rival. He demanded: “No words are necessary between us. If you want to say a prayer, I will give you the time for it.” Gustavus was wide awake. He was a squeamish Adonis, but he saw there was no escape. He stood upright, folded his arms over his chest and faced the stocky man in front of him. His white, slender body was motionless. The Prince took careful aim and shot him through the heart. Leaving, he tossed a purse of gold to the scared man-servant who cowered in the hall. “Here,” shouted the Prince. “Take that money and see to it that your master gets a decent funeral. Harlequins like him might not leave even enough money for that.” His next stop was at the main police station. He aroused the drowsing lieutenant in charge and reported with sharp words: “I am Prince Alexey Sokolow. I just killed with one shot Gustavus Swanderson. He was the lover of my wife. The whole city will confirm that, I am sure. The police will not prosecute me or I will loose my dogs at their throats. You know that! Report my word to the policemaster anyway. I leave for France today. I expect to have the policemaster as my guest when I come back. Report that to him. I will first call on the Czar in Petersburg to get a leave of absence from him. (Here the voice of the Prince became threatening and the lieutenant understood him perfectly well.) If the police master wants to do anything about this affair, have him send a report to the Czar.”