I had no pretty clothes, and my parents had no pretty house. My father's business went from bad to worse, and he himself grew to be taciturn and did not speak to us children for weeks. Another little brother had arrived too, and my mother worked incessantly. I assisted her by minding the children and carrying about the baby, but I did not like doing it and felt utterly unhappy.
My brother had been sent to the High School at Krems because my mother had set her heart upon it. My father used to point out to her that he was hardly able to afford the expense, but my mother responded that Charlie was the cleverest boy that could be found, and that it would be an everlasting pity to bring him up otherwise. After these explanations my father was silent, but I am perfectly convinced that he would have much preferred to apprentice my brother to some trade. Charlie came home every Sunday and left again on the Monday. On these visits he treated us all in a most conceited manner, and even declared one day that country-folk were fools. In spite of that I used to see him off each time he went away, and felt like crying when the train had steamed out of the little station.
Chapter IV
Without being able to give a satisfactory explanation of my feelings I grew unhappier from day to day, and at times when I was most sad I became conscious of a story in my head, and wrote it down, but tore the paper up again without ever showing it to anybody. My dearest wish was to be sent to Krems, so that I also might join the seminary for school-teachers, and I wondered in my heart of hearts whether Hilda would speak to me then. As a matter of course that secret longing was in vain.
The time when I was to leave school approached at last, and I hailed that event with great delight, for I rejoiced at the thought that in the future I should not be compelled to meet Leopoldine. I had time to spare now, but I did not help my mother with her housework any more than before. I did not like staying at home, and wanted to go away. But whenever I mentioned the subject my mother declared that she could not spare me yet, and that in any case I was too young to face the world alone. I felt exceedingly impatient, grew very discontented, silent towards my mother and my two bigger sisters, and spent, in spite of the noisy company around me, a very lonely life. My poems were the only joy I had; they used to come again and again, but I kept them as secret as before.
During the course of these events I had entered on my fifteenth year, and into my discontent and restlessness there began to twine themselves the thoughts, the dreams, and the wishes of a girl of my age. I knew that all the girls who had left school with me were already associating with young men, and I wondered which of the young men of the village I could love. But I soon discovered that there were none at all who pleased me, because they were all very rude, and constantly alluding to things which made me blush. Contempt and disgust were the only feelings they aroused within me, and it was clear to me that Langenau did not hold the hero of my dreams.
The young men themselves hated me. Whenever they spoke to me I responded shortly and tartly, and if any of them tried to pinch my arm or stroke my cheek, I stepped back and uttered an angry exclamation. After that they used to say that I had better not be so affected, if they were good enough to look at me despite the fact that my people were deeply in debt. I was perfectly used to such words, and knew that those who spoke them were speaking the truth, since the same thing was said at home without anyone contradicting it.