For my part, I could not comprehend Paula's conduct, not being able to imagine why she should dare so much for her little old black book—I, who would have exchanged all my books for a new doll; but I would have suffered anything to help her now. And so in spite of all Teresa's signs for me to keep quiet and sit down, I took my father by the sleeve and burst into tears saying, "Papa, please give it to her."
My father turned and looked at me for an instant. Never had I seen him so angry. His face had become as white as a sheet. Suddenly throwing Paula off, who had been holding on to him on the other side, he raised the Bible over her head and with a thundering voice, he threatened her. "Will you keep quiet?" Paula appeared not to have heard him.
"Oh, dear uncle," she implored once more, extending her hands to secure her treasured book, "oh, uncle." In reply all I heard was a dull thud, and I saw Paula fall to the ground. Beside himself, my father had given her a tremendous blow on the head with the Bible.
Teresa rushed toward the child and carried her into the kitchen, turning as she did so toward my father "Have a care, sir," she cried, her voice trembling with indignation. "Mark my words, you will repent some day of what you have just done."
It appeared to me that my father had already repented. He took his hat without a word and went out, and did not return until the evening.
* * * * *
"What a shame that Paula isn't a boy," said Louis, as soon as our father had disappeared.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because she is so brave. Did you notice she stopped crying as soon as father hit her? In her place, you would have been crying yet."
"And you? How about yourself?"