She lifted my skirts and shew my stung legs and the nettles.
"I deprived him of his drawers. If young men will openly defy a girl and then wander alone where nettles grow-they may find their defiance cost them dearly."
"Upon my word, Gertrude, you are too bad-you will have to extinguish the fire you have lighted. The irritation will make him wild for you."
"I think I should be so without it," I exclaimed, throwing an anxious look at Gertrude.
"Well," said Mademoiselle, "the luncheon bell has rung. Are you going upstairs first?"
"Yes," I exclaimed.
"Are you?" said Gertrude, coyly. "Not without my leave."
"Then take him," rejoined Mademoiselle, "and remember, no more fooling. I shall expect you both down in five minutes or you will have an account to settle with me."
How happily and merrily the days passed.
Gertrude used to insist, cruel girl, on birching me, and then taking me to ride with her.
I must not omit to state that Mademoiselle read me my father's letter with great solemnity and formality, and folding it up, added: "But you will remember that I intend to keep you in petticoats all the same, Lord Lady-wood, so now kiss my hand; and recollect that nothing will emancipate you."
CHAPTER 9
As I grew older, and as the year waxed and waned, as Lammas came, and we went to the Norfolk Broads for change, when we returned and the year died in winter, I loved Mademoiselle more and more.
It had taken a long time to awaken to more than a transient vibration any responsive chord on her part, but now at last a secret sympathy was established between us.
I loved her in her autumn boating costume made of flannel, which by its simple form set off and displayed her well-knit, robust figure to great advantage.
I loved her in her winter costumes, when she drove with fleet horses through the snow, galloping along the frost-bound roads in her sleigh. And how well she looked in her skating dresses, the contours of her graceful form outlined by the resistance of the air, by her passage through it, her skates increasing her height, her short skirts displaying her ankles, and the exercise itself compelling her to use her legs as if they were legs-a thing women are remarkably slow to do, considering the killing effect these limbs of theirs have.
And then the spring came-the spring, when one feels a new life welling up.
The fact of my being Lord Ladywood made her more exigent, and anything like insubordination or impudence she put down at once, usually by a good sound birching, and by compelling me afterwards to apologise for my disobedience by putting me under, and making me kiss the lower parts of her beautiful body.
Sometimes, in the passages, I would catch Agnes or Maud, and take liberties with them; and of course they birched and whipped me in the schoolroom just as often as I did them.
I loved to feel their pretty legs. Pretty frightened fawns! How they shuddered and reddened at a rude, invading hand upon their soft, naked flesh, and yet how they liked it! Maud especially. Agnes was not old enough to take more pleasure in this sort of frolic than any child ordinarily does in being tickled.
Of course I was kept in petticoats the whole time. The influence did not diminish by use. It was strange that it did not lost its force, and grow stale by custom.
One May afternoon, we read the "Golden Legend." When I reached these lines:
I have heard it said, that at Eastertide,
When buds are swelling on every side,
And the sap begins to move in the vine,
Then, in all cellars far and wide,
The oldest as well as the newest win
Begins to stir itself, and ferment
With a kind of revolt and discontent
At being so long in darkness pent,
And fain would burst from its sombre tun
To bask on the hill-side in the sun.
a panorama of my year of gynecocracy passed before my vision, and I recalled with soft, voluptuous delight my "psychological lesson"-my night with Mademoiselle.
I was sensible of my blood beginning to stir itself and ferment with a kind of revolt at not having yet been infused into my sweet governess' organisation.
I looked up as I read the lines, and I knew there was a tell-tale tremor in my voice. Mademoiselle glanced up too, and our eyes met.
After dinner, Agnes, Beatrice, and myself squabbled in the twilight, in the drawing room; and I believe Mademoiselle, who had been on the lookout all the evening for something to seize on as an excuse, was glad of it. With unusual promptitude she was down upon me at once.
I had so far forgotten myself as to slap Agnes' face. Agnes, and her kittenish, apish ways, were especially tantalising.
"Bring me the punishment book at once, Julia," as soon as she heard and saw the sharp little blow on Agnes' peachlike cheek. She spoke sternly. "I cannot permit this insubordination. You are well aware how I insist upon constant respect and abject submission to the petticoat, even if you are wronged by it."
I looked ashamed, but said nothing.
I knew when she sent me for the book, that I should lose my evening, and was much chagrined in consequence.
"As you have slapped Agnes' face, she shall birch your bottom at ten o'clock in the schoolroom. You will then be sent to my room, where I shall take certain measures with you, which will, perhaps, make you regret your want of respect. In the meantime," she said, tearing out a slip from the punishment book and folding it, "you are to take this to Elise."
I trembled as I took the paper, and walked out of the room.
I went to my room and rang the bell twice, which would give Elise to understand both that the signal was for her, and that she was required to inflict chastisement.
I was aware that the servants would be going to supper about this time, and that Elise would be very angry at being called away. I debated with myself whether it would be safe to wait even ten minutes. I, however, only succeeded in satisfying myself that Mademoiselle's 386
sharp ears would be waiting to hear the bell for Elise, and that any delay would involve me into fresh trouble.
So I rang and Elise came.
"Well, Miss Julia, what is it now?" she asked in a fury. "And I was just going to my supper. What have you been doing now?"
I grew white and held out my paper for an answer. Elise opened and read it.
"And so," said the lynx-eyed Elise, gazing gravely at me, "you are to be birched by Miss Agnes and then to spend the night with Mademoiselle as you did last year just at this time. What have you done?"
"Oh! They were squabbling, and I smacked that pert Agnes' face."
"And so she is to birch your bottom." Elise looked at me and smacked my face. "That's for bringing me away from my supper."
The smart made me lose my temper with the pretty maid.
"How dare you?" I cried. "That's not in the bill!"
"What do I care for that?" she retorted, and grasping me violently, she pulled me down across her lap, turned up my petticoats, and as she expressed it, warmed my bottom for me.
"That's not in the bill either," remarked Elise, as, satisfied at last, she allowed me to get up, half sobbing and wholly burning; "but it's a nice hors d'oeuvre to what Miss Agnes will do to you this evening."
Elise then took me to the schoolroom where she placed me in the stocks-two pieces of wood, heel to heel, and in a straight line at right angles to my person, and a lid with two apertures for the ankles was slid over my feet and locked. Then a cruel backboard was strapped on over an inordinately tightly laced corset, my hands or wrists were fixed behind to its tail, and its collar set so high that my head was thrown right back.
"There! That is how Mademoiselle wished you to be, but I remember last year," and Elise produced a red petticoat of my governess, which, having fastened at the waist band, she threw over my head. "There! So you shall remain until it is time to birch you."