And then the Bishop, apparently hoping to make peace, said suavely:
"But aren't we crossing the river before we reach the bridge? The girl herself may have no such objections. Have you?" he asked, turning to me.
I was trembling more than ever now, and at first I could not reply.
"Don't you wish to go back home with your father?"
"No, sir," I answered.
"And why not, please?"
"Because my father's home is no home to me—because my aunt has always been unkind to me, and because my father has never cared for me or protected me, and because . . ."
"Well, what else?"
"Because . . . because I wish to become a nun."
There was silence for a moment, and then my father broke into bitter laughter.