"What do you mean?"
"Are you really ignorant of the fact," he continued, without paying any attention to my question, "that people like that do not need a servant, but a ladylike person, somebody who knows how to behave, and possesses good manners, and can teach them to the children in her charge? Furthermore, do you not know that you have not a grain of what is called 'polish'?"
I gave a little sob, and after hearing that he continued quickly: "That is, of course, not your fault. Your intercourse with nothing but country-folk cannot have taught you witty, amiable, and smart behaviour; cannot have given you that indefinable something which makes all the difference between an educated and an uneducated person; cannot have imparted that knowledge to you, without which one is nothing, a nobody, a mere cipher?"
I believed every word of it and cried softly.
"What am I to do?" I asked at last.
"If I were in your place I should not travel down to Buda-Pesth, but stay here. I will use whatever influence I have with my friends, and try to find you a situation. Perhaps you could get a post as cashier somewhere in a café."
"No," I said, controlling my tears all in a moment, "I won't do that."
"Why not? They generally make a lot of money, and a good match at the end."
"No," I said again, and shook my head decisively, "I would rather go to Buda-Pesth."