So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. He would get very cross one evening and no one would dare to remind him of it. ‘So now we come to it. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. This happened after he ate. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. . Then, naturally, I went on talking. ‘Now then, girl.
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