But gathering up her self-control as best
she could, she succeeded in replying:
"I am so tired: let me have my sleep out."
Her mother bent over her and kissed her several times. The child felt as
though she would die while submitting to these caresses.
This one hour, with its cruel enlightenment, sufficed to destroy
Jeanne's joy in life for ever. At the same time it filled her mind with
impure thoughts that haunted her night and day. She matured
precociously in the atmosphere of her own despair.
There was no one in whom she could confide; alone she bore the weight of
a double secret, either of which was enough to crush her youth.
She could not bear to look her mother in the face. With her father, too,
she felt ill at ease, as though she had in some way wronged him.
Everything was soiled for her. She had but one desire; to get away from
home.
About two years later her mother was seized with fatal illness. Jeanne
could not bring herself to show her any tenderness.
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