t a voice j it

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