Gynecocracy

But his head now reminded me of a vulture clothed with plumage up to the neck and bare beyond. In fact Elise made some remark of the kind as she dressed me and suggested that she should make a nice, soft warm cap for the poor chap. I did not respond either "yes" or "no."

In all respects I was now treated as a girl. All day long my ideas, wishes, and desires about exercise, about reading, about work, about sport, were pruned down, and assumed, as a matter of course, to be those which should influence the actions and life of a young lady of my age. What yet remained of my masculine propensities suffered great repression from this process.

It was a masterly measure and decidedly checked flirtation. But Mons. Priapus-abnormal or not-was there and free. And four or five days after the first day when Mademoiselle had admitted that I was restored to health I must narrate that certain appearances had (under extenuating circumstances, undoubtedly-a peeping ankle will do so much mischief) made themselves remarkable in front, just underneath the end of my corset, lifting my petticoats and skirts in a peculiar manner, making quite a little mound in front, and raising the garments higher off the ground than usual, and also further away from me so that they stuck out. 260

This was first noticed as I was standing one afternoon in the schoolroom reading in choice Italian some of Boccaccio's tales to Mademoiselle and my three cousins who were working. I was carried away by what I read and not caring to recall my thoughts from contemplation of the delightful ideas suggested by the author at first did not notice that I had not the attention of my audience, that the girls were tittering, and that Mademoiselle was gazing at me with amused anger, biting her lips either with vexation, or to repress her laughter. There was nothing laughable in what I read. I thought it was some of their tomfoolery and read on. I felt naughty, but never dreamt they would be able to discern any indications of it. At the end of the paragraph I came to a full stop.

"You may well stop, Miss!" remarked Mademoiselle. "A pretty exhibition you are making of yourself," she continued, laying aside the embroidery, upon which she had been engaged.

"It is an unfortunate interruption," cried Agnes. "I was much interested in the adventures we were listening to. I wonder whatever the Signora did with her lover. Julia, I wish your abnormal development was-was-"

She dared not conclude her sentence before Mademoiselle, but her eyes told me what she meant.

"Was inside me," is what she would have said.

Through the perplexity and embarrassment I suffered I felt the germination of the same desire. I would have given her a reason for no longer laughing at me. But I dared not dwell on it or the phenomenon would have again become noticeable!

"Julia!" said Beatrice, "is not responsible. It is all Mr. Boccaccio's fault."

Beatrice had evidently not forgotten the whipping I had given her a few days before.

"I really cannot permit," broke in Mademoiselle, "such an indecent exhibition. I cannot pass over it-Julia, I am shocked and ashamed of you-a young lady should know how to restrain herself, and if she does not know she must be taught. Beatrice, take your cousin and put her down on that couch upon her back, and hold her arms over her head."

Sinking with shame, afraid to say a word in self-defence, I was led to the couch and laid across it. It was in a prominent part of the room.

"Maud, lift up her skirts-throw them over her head-take off her drawers-spread out her legs."

These directions were all speedily obeyed. I resigned myself with a choking in my throat.

"Now keep her so, until I return," ordered Mademoiselle.

"I shall have the birching of you, Julian, in a few minutes. I knew," said Beatrice, "I knew my revenge would come. Won't you catch it!"

"I declare," exclaimed Maud, "your remark has made the thing positively rear its head."

"Oh, Julia!" went on Maud, first clasping her hands before her and then kneeling between my knees, almost touching "him," for whatever my sex, he was certainly masculine. "Oh, Julia! Do you remember?"

"Remember what?" angrily exclaimed Beatrice.

"Mind your own business, Bee. He is just as much mine as yours."

If Maud had said more mine than yours, she would have been more accurate, nearer the truth.

"Indeed," rejoined Beatrice scornfully, "he has sold himself to me long ago. I know what happened in your studio, Maud."

"You don't," screamed Maud, an angry flush rising and spreading itself all over her countenance.

"Yes, I do," quickly replied Beatrice, "and he is to marry me for it; and I shall compel you, Maud, when we are married, to ask for a repetition of it."

Maud's angry flush died away. She thought it wiser not to pursue the subject; instead she caught her skirts with both her hands, and slightly raising them asked, "Now?"