Her hands firmly clasped together lay on her knees, and their fingers twitched.

Filled with the bitterness of offended vanity, she felt an alarming fear of the future, and prayed in silence: "My God! Oh Lord! If he were only a kind man! Make him kind, sincere.

Oh Lord! A strange man comes, examines you, and takes you unto himself for years, if you please him! How disgraceful that is, how terrible.

Oh Lord, my God! If I could only run away! If I only had someone to advise me what to do! Who is he?
How can I learn to know him?
I cannot do anything! And I have thought, ah, how much I have thought! I have read.
To what purpose have I read?
Why should I know that it is possible to live otherwise, so as I cannot live?
And it may be that were it not for the books my life would be easier, simpler.

How painful all this is! What a wretched, unfortunate being I am! Alone.