Who did you have, then? There must have been someone. A lady. She was the
one who left you with us, the one who sends money--but never enough, Papa
says. I'll bet she's as stupid and dirty as you are, too dimwitted to earn
even that much.
There you are, crouching in the corner like a rat. Your hair is stiff like straw in my hand, and I tug on it to see if it will break. It makes my sister laugh, but you don't even move.
What's it like, having no one to comb your hair the way Maman does ours? Your mother probably didn't know how. She was slow in the head, too, wasn't she? That's why she gave you to us. We know better here, we keep you and feed you. You should be thankful. Say it, say you're thankful, I know you're not dumb.
I pull harder on your hair and this time it does come away in my hand. You sit there like a dead thing still, but I can see the water in your eyes. Too daft to speak, even now.
It's dull when you don't at least call out; there's no fun in that. No wonder your mother didn't want you around; you can't do a thing. She wouldn't have left you to us if she'd wanted to keep you. And you're glad for that, aren't you, glad you've got us instead of your fool of a mother? Go on, I can't hear you.
A little of the dirt on your face drips away. "Yes, 'Ponine."
There you are, crouching in the corner like a rat. Your hair is stiff like straw in my hand, and I tug on it to see if it will break. It makes my sister laugh, but you don't even move.
What's it like, having no one to comb your hair the way Maman does ours? Your mother probably didn't know how. She was slow in the head, too, wasn't she? That's why she gave you to us. We know better here, we keep you and feed you. You should be thankful. Say it, say you're thankful, I know you're not dumb.
I pull harder on your hair and this time it does come away in my hand. You sit there like a dead thing still, but I can see the water in your eyes. Too daft to speak, even now.
It's dull when you don't at least call out; there's no fun in that. No wonder your mother didn't want you around; you can't do a thing. She wouldn't have left you to us if she'd wanted to keep you. And you're glad for that, aren't you, glad you've got us instead of your fool of a mother? Go on, I can't hear you.
A little of the dirt on your face drips away. "Yes, 'Ponine."