But the child, overwhelmed with emotion, not knowing to what to attribute this moroseness, and wishing to overcome it at all costs, began to cry, as she threw herself once more upon her lap and tried to reach her face.
"Go! leave me!" replied the lady, preventing her raising herself higher.
The child was obstinate.
"Don't you love me? Give me a kiss."
"Go away, child!" she cried, in a fury. "Go away, at once!"
At the same time she gave her a hard push, and Josefina fell on to the ground where her head came against the leg of a chair.
She got up, raising her hand to where she was hurt, but she did not cry. A feeling of dignity, often shown by childish hearts, gave her strength to keep from crying, although her eyes were filled with tears. She cast one look of unspeakable sadness on her godmother, and then ran from the room. When she reached the staircase, she threw herself down on one of the steps and burst into a fit of sobbing.
The thorns of life were indeed piercing the delicate flesh of that child whose path until then had been strewn with flowers. Amalia's spite grew worse every day, and the reserve and timidity of the child increased in proportion. But as she was only a child, this sadness would vanish when under the impulse of a fancy, and it was at such moments that the coldness and spite of the lady were most evident.
"Señora, Josefina does not want to put on her green frock."