pretty visitor. I buried my face in her furs, stamping, sobbing,
laughing, and tearing her wide lace sleeves in my frenzy of delight. She
took me in her arms and tried to calm me, and questioning the concierge,
she stammered out to her friend: "I can't understand what it all means!
This is little Sarah! My sister Youle's child!"

The noise I made had attracted attention, and people opened their
windows. My aunt decided to take refuge in the concierge's lodge, in
order to come to an explanation. My poor nurse told her about all that
had taken place, her husband's death, and her second marriage. I do not
remember what she said to excuse herself. I clung to my aunt, who was
deliciously perfumed, and I would not let go of her. She promised to
come the following day to fetch me, but I did not want to stay any
longer in that dark place. I asked to start at once with my nurse. My
aunt stroked my hair gently, and spoke to her friend in a language I did
not understand. She tried in vain to explain something to me; I do not
know what it was, but I insisted that I wanted to go away with her at
once. In a gentle, tender, caressing voice, but without any real
affection, she said all kinds of pretty things, stroked me with her
gloved hands, patted my frock, which was turned up, and made any amount
of charming, frivolous little gestures, but all without any real
feeling. She then went away, at her friend's entreaty, after emptying
her purse in my nurse's hands. I rushed towards the door, but the
husband of my nurse, who had opened it for her, now closed it again. My
nurse was crying, and, taking me in her arms, she opened the window,
saying to me, "Don't cry, Milk Blossom. Look at your pretty aunt; she
will come back again, and then you can go away with her." Great tears
rolled down her calm, round, handsome face. I could see nothing but the
dark, black hole which remained there immutable behind me, and in a fit
of despair I rushed out to my aunt, who was just getting into a