CHAPTER IV
THE Cossack had a large family and one of his daughters, a little girl, named Sarah-Leah, was the heroine of my first romance.
Sarah-Leah had the misfortune to bear a striking resemblance to a sister of her father's, an offense which her mother never forgave her. She treated her as she might a stepdaughter. As for the Cossack, he may have cared for the child, but if he did he dared not show it. Poor little Sarah-Leah! She was the outcast of the family just as I was the outcast of her father's school.
She was about eleven years old and I was somewhat younger. The similarity of our fates and of our self-pity drew us to each other. When her father beat me I was conscious of her commiserating look, and when she was mistreated by her mother she would cast appealing glances in my direction. Once when the teacher punished me with special cruelty her face twitched and she broke into a whimper, whereupon he gave her a kick, saying: "Is it any business of yours? Thank God your own skin has not been peeled off."
Once during the lunch hour, when we were alone, Sarah-Leah and
I, in a corner of the courtyard, she said: "You are so strong, Davie!
Nothing hurts you."
"Nothing at all. I could stand everything," I bragged
"You could not, if I bit your finger."
"Go ahead!" I said, with bravado, holding out my hand. She dug her teeth into one of my fingers. It hurt so that I involuntarily ground my own teeth, but I smiled
"Does it not hurt you, Davie?" she asked, with a look of admiration
"Not a bit. Go on, bite as hard as you can."