“Yes, I did.”
I threw myself back on the grass and we lay for a minute in silence.
“It’s wicked to steal!” I burst out, full of the saddest perplexity.
“Our people were all away. Marusia was crying because she was hungry.”
“Yes, I was hungry,” repeated the child with pitiful simplicity.
I had not yet discovered what hunger was, but at the little one’s last words my breast heaved and I stared at my friends as if I were seeing them for the first time. Valek was lying on the grass as before, pensively watching a soaring sparrow-hawk, but he now no longer looked impressive. At the sight of Marusia holding her piece of bread in both hands my heart absolutely stopped beating.
“Why”—I asked with an effort—“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I wanted to tell you, and then I changed my mind. You have no money of your own.”
“Well, what difference does that make? I should have brought a loaf from home.”
“What, on the sly?”