Page:A chambermaid's diary.djvu/357

 was something hoarse and broken, like a hiccup,—a sort of gurgle. This voice drove away my pity. However, I went on.

"You have relatives living?"

"Yes; my father, my mother, two brothers, four sisters. I am the oldest."

"And your father? What does he do?"

"He is a blacksmith."

"You are poor."

"My father has three fields, three houses, three threshing-machines

"Then he is rich?"

"Surely he is rich. He cultivates his fields and rents his houses, and goes about the country with his threshing-machines and threshes the peasants' wheat. And my brother shoes the horses."

"And your sisters?"

"They have beautiful lace caps and embroidered gowns."

"And you?"

"I have nothing."

I drew further away, that I might not get the mortal odor of this voice.

"Why are you a domestic?" I resumed.

"Because

"Why did you leave home?"

"Because

"You were not happy?