But leave me my Bible, please! please! Leave me
my Bible!" Paula sobbed, clinging to my father with a desperate courage.
Teresa, who had viewed this scene with dismay, did not dare to interfere.
She came and went, pretending to arrange things here and there in the room.
For my part, I could not comprehend Paula's conduct, not being able to
imagine why she should dare so much for her little old black book--I, who
would have exchanged all my books for a new doll; but I would have suffered
anything to help her now. And so in spite of all Teresa's signs for me to
keep quiet and sit down, I took my father by the sleeve and burst into
tears saying, "Papa, please give it to her."
My father turned and looked at me for an instant. Never had I seen him so
angry. His face had become as white as a sheet. Suddenly throwing Paula
off, who had been holding on to him on the other side, he raised the Bible
over her head and with a thundering voice, he threatened her. "Will you
keep quiet?" Paula appeared not to have heard him.
"Oh, dear uncle," she implored once more, extending her hands to secure her
treasured book, "oh, uncle." In reply all I heard was a dull thud, and I
saw Paula fall to the ground.
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