Here was Marie. At last I was going to know why she was so mute and why she ran away one evening without taking along her bundle of clothes or her prayer-book. I was going to find out how a poor little servant girl rebelling against kindness could become a poor little swaggering over-dressed prostitute.
"I have come for my things."
"They are still here, Marie; I'll go and get them."
But I couldn't budge. This phenomenon coming so close to me was appalling. I looked at her. She had the soft, awkward charm of a little astonished beast. Seated there in my presence she made an ingenuous, piteous sight, like a ladybird you're afraid of crushing, or a wilful timid lamb withdrawing from your caress.
I noticed all sorts of minutiae—that she carried a cloth hand-bag, an exact copy of a bag of mine, and tied her shoe-latchets the very same way I did mine; was very neat, her shoes polished, her hands clean, her neck fairly waxed with soap. Her gaze, once aimless and imprisoned, harpooned the things in my room and withdrew freighted with discoveries.... And she gave me acid, persistent looks like the looks one woman gives another. "Has she aged?" her looks questioned, "has she changed, is she prettier?" Her eyes roved around the room. "Ah, that little étagère was not there in my time, nor that engraving.... Who's doing her work? The place looks well kept." She parted the collar of her jacket at the opening to show off her imitation brooch. The child had become feminized, she seemed older than ever.
"Why, Marie? Why?"
I couldn't restrain myself any longer. She leaned her elbow on the table. When she raised her eyes, they were underlined with red and two slow tears cut little pathways down the powder on her cheeks. I jumped up and took her hands.
"I didn't like—I didn't know what to do with myself. It wasn't my fault. No one cared about me...."
The great answer to the riddle. They all have this devouring need. What they ask of love and look for in love is "someone to care about them."
"And then my hair, my Breton dress ... everybody stared at me. 'Aren't you ashamed?' I used to think."