The directress harshly told us to be quiet. She had removed her glazed, black kid glove and exhibited alarge arm very plump and white. Its appearance of strength boded ill for the unfortunate little posteriors doomed to be whipped.
Mr. Gostock interrupted her:
I beg you, my lady, don't take this trouble yourself.
The lady smiled graciously:
"Ah! I read your mind! You wish your protegee, Miss Sinclair, to administer the punishment. "
"I beg you to allow her."
"The permission is granted. Miss Sinclair, have the kindness to apply the birch with all the energy of which you are capable. Begin with Miss Clara, so that this lout Alice may see what awaits her."
Miss Sinclair immediately stepped forward. She was a really pretty girl of from fifteen to sixteen years of age, very slender, but with firm, rounded arms which gave redoubtable promise of that rigorous action to which Lady Flayskin had appealed.
At this moment I saw the American's dull eyes light up. There passed over them aflame,
as it were, a blaze which immediately died away again. A little colour came to his cheeks, also disappearing immediately. Doubtless he experienced pleasure in seeing this pretty girl whip naked posteriors, but he did not think it fitting to display his feelings.
Miss Sinclair had already seized hold of Clara who shrieked to her to spare her, while again declaring her innocence.
As for me, I bit my lips till they almost bled, and clenched my fists, promising myself that I would strangle hateful Miss Sinclair if she should dare to lay a hand on me. But those ridiculous gloves in which they had rigged me out, prevented me from doubling my fists as I should have liked and I felt myself insecure upon those hateful heels which made me sway even when I was not walking.
Miss Sinclair had laid a hand on Clara's shoulder who walked sobbing to receive her punishment.
She was told to lean over the big table at the foot of the high desk where the mistress sat enthroned. To speak more correctly, she had to lie upon the table face downwards and forwards. With a dexterity, an ease of movement, an absence of gesture which spoke of habit, Miss Sinclair raised the petticoats of Miss Clara, whilst the victim's hands were immediately imprisoned in the long lean claws of the long Mrs. Stuart. After Miss Sinclair had adroitly pinned the skirts to the shoulders of the little martyr, the young unbuttoned the drawers, which she lowered to the heels.
The drawers were very curious. They consisted of a very tight garment which revealed to view the exact shape of the parts covered. I had never seen a similar garment. It was in fact, a pair of drawers made of black glazed kid of exactly the same material and shade as the long gloves we were obliged to wear. The hinder parts of Miss Clara were fully exposed, white and rounded. It was, upon my word, a very pretty pair of hemispheres and although hitherto I had never thought of attaching any importance to what little girls sit upon, I could not help being moved by the sight, thoug I had no idea of analysing the reasons of this curious emotion, which stirred me more deeply than I can well say. As to fear, I felt none whatever. The immediate future, however, was to prove for me terrible enough.
Miss Sinclair slowly drew off her long gloves rai I of the high desk. She was doing It- t a s k without forgetting, the smallest detail, and immediately had her reward in a smile from correct Mr. Gostock; a smile, indeed, which was really a horrible grimace, or appeared to me such.
The directress then addressed Clara
"Well, Miss! I hope you feel ashamed to be exhibiting, the nudity of the lower part of your back to the gaze of the whole class? Are you sorry for your naughty folly?
"Pardon me, my lady, I beg you."
"Are you going again to propel balls of paper soaked with your spittle."
My lady!… I declare to you… I threw none.
The little boy niade a mistake.
"Do you see?" said the directress to Miss Sinclair. "She is incorrigible. Punish her well therefore, as much for her lie as for her fault. Don't spare her."
Clara moaned and wept in a stifled way, as her petticoats covering her head hardly let breathe. A spasmodic quiver ran up her little thighs, trembing already in anticipation.
Miss Sinclair did not appear to be at all in a hurry to begin the work of execution. Yet certain signs of animation in her manner sufficiently revealed her pleasure. Her fine dark eyes sparkled. Her pretty half-opened mouth showed her dainty, even, white teeth. She passed her pointed rosy little tongue over her crimson lips like a gourmand -with his favourite dish before him. She had also lifted her head in saucy pride and I remember that her fair hair seemed like a mass of burnished gold.
She proceeded with a quiet step and with quite the dignity of a queen, to a cupboard against the wall between tow large maps. Miss Sinclair was not troubled by her high heels. One would have thought she wore no boots at all, so easy were her movements. Her step was as noiseless as it was rhythmic.
She opened a drawer of the large cupboard and cast an inquiring glance within. After a pause, she took therefrom a birch which she balanced in her hand. Then with a look of contempt and a shrug of the shoulders, she threw it back again. Her hand searched anew, and this time produced a very terrible implement as it appeared to me. It was a thick long rod, terminating in a steel-like point.
All these deliberate movements and preparations inspired a perfect paroxysm of terror in her who was about to be whipped. That was clear to every eye in the class by the writhings of the nude globes. They jutted out behind as though to meet the birch there was no escaping, and then contracted, as though to avoid it, all the while wriggling as though already stung a thousand cutting blows and moving from side to side as if the cruel pain were already more than they could bear. In short, they spoke with a dumb eloquence which was nothing less than poignant. And, in point of fact, both boys and girls showed their feelings by their bated breath. Without possibility of doubt, there was none more affected than I myself, not even perhaps excepting the poor little girl who waited for the first blow to fall. And while waiting – for I knew that soon my turn would come – I felt my fine courage of a few moments before melting into air, and my own anguish, became more and more intense. I knew that there would not even be any necessity to hold my hands. I was already at the mercy of beautiful Miss Stella Sinclair, whose calmness was, so to speak, a miraculous chain which bound me. I was spellbound. Had a miracle taken place before my eyes, I should have been unaffected by comparison. With that rod brandished in warlike. fashion in her hand, this fair young girl appeared to me an image of terror, an evil divinity. She was in truth a young she-devil in spite of her ravishing beauty. It was my fate to assure myself of the fact, by the eyes to begin with; in my skin afterwards.
She placed herself behind her victim and asked in exquisitely sweet, silvery tones:
"Are you ready.? "
"Yes! Yes!" came the reply in broken accents, as though wrung from a mind in mortal terror.
If Clara was ready, Stella was not, and I perceived that her question was designed simply to warn the child that the moment of punishment was at hand. Machiavelli-like, Stella desired to sharpen anew the heartrending anguish of her victim. The shaking and quivering of the bare stern showed that the object of astute Stella had been attained.
She stepped forward, stepped back again, extended her arm flourishing the rod, then again stepped forward. Evidently she was calculating her distance. But she gave much more time to her calculations than was necessary. That was certainly the opinion of her victim, for she cried out:
"Do for the love of God begin! It ought to be finished by now!"