choose him instead.
This man did not touch me, and, do you know, for some time I really
thought I almost, very nearly, might,--if it had not been for his face!
It was impossible to go to Italy--yes, to go to heaven! through that face
of his! That face of his was just like the pictures of dancing men with
animals' hairy legs and hoofs in an old thick poetry book belonging to my
mother. Just fancy a nose that seemed to be pecking at great fat red
lips! He met me and pressed me to go continually, till all of a sudden up
came the first Jew gentleman, and he cried out quite loud in the street
that he was being robbed by the other; and they stood and made a noise in
the street, and I ran away. But then I heard that my father had borrowed
money from the one who came first, and that his violin came from that
man; and my father told me the violin would be taken from him, and he
would have to go to prison, if I did not marry that man. I went and cried
in my mother's arms. I shall never forget her kindness; for though she
could never see anybody crying without crying herself, she did not, and
was quiet as a mouse, because she knew how her voice hurt me. There's a
large print-shop in one of the great streets of London, with coloured
views of Italy. I used to go there once, and stand there for I don't know
how long, looking at them, and trying to get those Jew gentlemen--"

"Call them Jews--they're not gentlemen," interposed Wilfrid.

"Jews," she obeyed the dictate, "out of my mind. When I saw the views of
Italy they danced and grinned up and down the pictures. Oh, horrible!
There was no singing for me then. My music died. At last that oldish lady
gave up her lessons, and said to me, 'You little rogue! you will do what
I do, some day;' for she was going to be married to that young man who
thought her voice so much improved; and she paid me three pounds, and
gave me one pound more, and some ribbons and gloves. I went at once to my
mother, and made her give me five pounds out of the gentleman's purse. I
took my harp and music-scores. I did not know where I was going, but only
that I could not stop. My mother cried: but she helped to pack my things.
If she disobeys me I act my father, and tower over her, and frown, and
make her mild. She was such a poor good slave to me that day! but I
trusted her no farther than the door. There I kissed her, full of love,
and reached the railway. They asked me where I was going, and named
places to m