doctors and awful pain, and when
I was well again I couldn't hear a sound with that ear. Hans wasn't there
while I was ill; I shouldn't have got well if he had been; but he came
back when I was up again and was very meek though he didn't stop looking
at me. I thought I would run away one day, and went out without my
basket, but after I had tried two whole days to get work and couldn't, I
went back. Mother Duda almost squeezed the heart out of me for joy, and
Hans went down on his knees and promised not to do or say anything more
that I didn't like. He even promised to go to work, but his work was of a
queer kind. It kept him in his little room and meant spending money, and
not getting it. Men came to see him and were locked up with him in his
little room. And if he went out, he locked the door and took the key
away, and said great times were coming and that I would be glad to marry
him some day, whether his neck was big or small. But I knew I shouldn't
and kept very close to Mother Duda and begged her to get me a new home,
and she promised and I was feeling happier, when one day Hans was called
out by a man and went away so fast that he forgot to lock his door, and
Mother Duda and I went into the room, and it was then that the thing
happened which spoiled all my life. I don't understand it. I never did,
for no one could tell me anything after that day. Mother Duda had gone
up to a table and was moving things about, trying to see what they were,
when everything turned black, the room shook, and I was whirling all
about, trying to take hold of things which seemed to be falling about me,
till I too fell. When I knew anything, there was lots of people looking
at me; people of the house, men, women, and children, but what was
strangest of all was the awful stillness. No one made any sound--nothing
made any sound, though I saw an old book-shelf tumble down from the wall
while I was looking, and people moved about and opened their lips and
seemed to be talking. Had Hans struck me again? I began to think so, and
got up from the floor where I was lying and tried to call out, but my
voice made no noise though people looked around as if it had, and I felt
an awful fright, not only for myself but for Mother Duda, who was being
carried out of the door by two men, and who did not move at all and who
never moved again. Poor Mother Duda, she was killed and I was deaf. I
knew it after a little while, but I don't know what did it; somethin