"No, madam, no, madam...."
I was close beside her and this time looked deep into her eyes. I saw the freckles on her white skin, and there emanated from her the amazing innocence of an accused child. Her voice came from her palpitating throat with a quiver in it.
"No, no, no."
Poor Marie. I felt remorseful. "I beg your pardon, Marie, we were mistaken."
Nevertheless I didn't budge, as if I were at length going to learn why one human being can be so terrorized by another.... She too stood motionless. I did not notice that her attitude was rather peculiar. I put my hand on her shoulders. "My little Marie...." At this she staggered and trod heavily on breaking china. Her face was imploring....
Hidden under her bell-shaped Breton petticoat which touched the floor lay my pretty gray china cup shivered to bits.
She behaved the way girls brought up by Sisters always do. She crouched against the wall, her forehead hidden in the crook of her arm. Her bosom as pinched as a wasp's went up and down precipitately, and the tears began to flow.
I stopped gathering up the pieces to console her gently.
"It's not your fault, Marie ... come, don't cry, don't cry."