She became a young Fury, to whom a mad fight
with monstrous death was nothing. She told herself that she was
strong for a girl--that she could tear with her nails, she could
clench her teeth in a flesh, she could shriek, she could battle
like a young madwoman so that they would be FORCED to kill her. This
was one of the images which rose op before her again yet again,
A hideous-hideous thing, which would not remain away.
She had not had any food since the afternoon cap of tea and she
began to feel the need of it. If she became faint-! She lifted
her face desperately as she said it, and saw the immense blue
darkness, powdered with millions of stars and curving over her--as
it curved over the hideous house and all the rest of the world.
How high--how immense--how fathomlessly still it was--how it seemed
as if there could be nothing else--that nothing else could be
real! Her hands were clenched together hard and fiercely, as she
scrambled to her knees and uttered a of prayer--not a child's--rather
the cry of a young Fury making a demand.
"Perhaps a girl is Nothing," she cried, "-a girl locked up in a
room! But, perhaps, she is Something--she may he real too! Save
me-save me! But if you won't save me, let me be killed!"
She knelt silent after it for a few minutes and then she sank down
and lay on the floor with her face on her arm.
How it was possible that even young and worn-out as she was, such
peace as sleep could overcome her at such a time, one cannot say.
Pages:
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332