And I’ll get you your books.
You shall stay with me.
I won’t send you away to anyunless you want to go. Don’t worry yourself.”
“I’ll be a workgirl!”
“Very well, very well.
Only be quiet. Lie down. Go to sleep.”
But the poor child burst into tears.
By degrees her tears passed to sobs.
I didn’t know what to do with her. I offered her water and moistened her temples and her head.
At last she sank on the sofa completely exhausted, and she was overcome by feverish shivering.
I wrapped her up in what I could find and she fell into an uneasy sleep, starting and waking up continually.
Though I had not walked far that day, I was awfully tired, and I decided to go to bed as early as possible.
Tormenting doubts swarmed in my brain.
I foresaw that I should have a lot of trouble with this child.
But my chief anxiety was about Natasha and her troubles.
Altogether, as I remember now, I have rarely been in a mood of such deep dejection as when I fell asleep that unhappy night.
Chapter IX
I waked up late, at ten o’clock in the morning, feeling ill.
I felt giddy and my head was aching; I glanced towards Elena’s bed. The bed was empty.
At the same moment from my little room on the right sounds reached me as though someone were sweeping with a broom.
I went to look.
Elena had a broom in her hand and holding up her smart dress which she had kept on ever since at evening, she was sweeping the floor.
The wood for the stove was piled up in the corner. The table had been scrubbed, the kettle had been cleaned. In a word, Elena was doing the housework.
“Listen, Elena,” I cried. “Who wants you to sweep the floor?
I don’t wish it, you’re ill. Have you come here to be a drudge for me?”
“Who is going to sweep the floor here?” she answered, drawing herself up and looking straight at me.
“I’m not ill now.”
“But I didn’t take you to make you work, Elena.
You seem to be afraid I shall scold you like Mme. Bubnov for living with me for nothing.
And where did you get that horrid broom?
I had no broom,” I added, looking at her in wonder.
“It’s my broom.
I brought it here myself, I used to sweep the floor here for grandfather too.
And the broom’s been lying here ever since under the stove.”
I went back to the other room musing.
Perhaps I may have been in error, but it seemed to me that she felt oppressed by my hospitality and that she wanted in every possible way to show me that she was doing something for her living.
“What an embittered character, if so,” I thought.
Two minutes later she came in and without a word sat down on the sofa in the same place as yesterday, looking inquisitively at me.
Meanwhile I boiled the kettle, made the tea, poured out a cup for her and handed it her with a slice of white bread.
She took it in silence and without opposition.
She had had nothing for twentyfour hours.
“See, you’ve dirtied your pretty dress with that broom,” I said, noticing a streak of dirt on her skirt.
She looked down and suddenly, to my intense astonishment, she put down her cup, and, apparently calm and composed, she picked up a breadth of the muslin skirt in both hands and with one rip tore it from top to bottom.
When she had done this she raised her stubborn, flashing eyes to me in silence.
Her face was pale.
“What are you about, Elena?” I cried, feeling sure the child was mad.
“It’s a horrid dress,” she cried, almost gasping with excitement.
“Why do you say it’s a nice dress?
I don’t want to wear it!” she cried suddenly, jumping up from her place.
“I’ll tear it up.