After she had beaten me nearly to death, the
woman would put something on the floor for me to eat, as if I were a
cat, and many a time I went to bed suffering from hunger. Oh! I could
have killed myself, at last!" She made a gesture of furious despair.
"Yesterday, Christmas morning, they had been drinking, and, to amuse
themselves, they threatened to put out my eyes. Then, after a while,
they began to fight with each other, and dealt such heavy blows that I
thought they were dead, as they both fell on the floor of their room.
For a long time I had determined to run away. But I was anxious to have
my book. Maman Nini had often said, in showing it to me: 'Look, this is
all that you own, and if you do not keep this you will not even have a
name.' And I know that since the death of Maman Theresa they had hid
it in one of the bureau drawers. So stepping over them as quietly as
possible, while they were lying on the floor, I got the book, hid it
under my dress-waist, pressing it against me with my arm. It seemed so
large that I fancied everyone must see it, and that it would be taken
from me. Oh! I ran, and ran, and ran, and when night came it was so
dark! Oh! how cold I was under the poor shelter of that great door! Oh
dear! I was so cold, it seemed as if I were dead.
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