The Hired Girl(70)

I want to see him again. Even though there were too many feelings, it strikes me that having them all at once, all tangled together, is one of the most interesting things that’s ever happened to me.

I wonder if any of Michelangelo’s Sibyls are in The Picturesque World.



Wednesday, August the ninth, 1911

I am completely wretched. In fact, I am so unwell that when I finished the lunch dishes, Malka took pity on me. She threw the dish towel at me and said I was of no use to her when I’m like this and I should go upstairs and lie down. Then she fixed me a hot-water bottle.

It must be a hundred degrees in my room today. The shutters are drawn and there isn’t a breath of air, but I have the hot-water bottle in my lap, because it helps with the pain. Yesterday I decided I would try lacing my corsets a little bit tighter, because maybe I could learn to stand it. But by nightfall, I thought I would scream if I couldn’t take them off. I don’t know how I’m ever going to suffer nobly when I can’t bear my corsets.

To make matters worse, when I woke up today, I found I had two big pimples on my face — one on my chin, where I’m used to having a pimple, but the other one at the end of my nose. Nothing could be more horrid. I tell myself I will bear my trials bravely, but today I just can’t. My stomach aches so, and I’m lonely. I wish Mrs. Rosenbach hadn’t made me get rid of Moonstone. I shall never forgive her for that, no matter what Father Horst says. He thinks forgiveness is a very important Christian virtue.

I saw Father Horst for instruction yesterday, but I wasn’t feeling very religious, because I wanted to take the streetcar down to Rosenbach’s Department Store and buy a parasol and some new stockings. I thought there might be time to go after instruction, but I didn’t know how long Father Horst would talk. I made the mistake of asking how Orthodox Christians are different from real Catholics, and he went on for a long time about how the Orthodox Christians think that the Holy Ghost comes from the Father, instead of proceeding from the Father and the Son. I guess this is important, but I couldn’t seem to fix my mind on it. I kept wondering whether I could find a parasol that would go with my hat.

Then Father Horst apologized, saying that church history was a hobby of his, and he gave me the Baltimore Catechism to learn. It’s awful long. There are more than four hundred questions, and I have to memorize the answers to all of them, word for word. I’m sure I can do it but it will take time, and I have so little time.

I did get to the department store, but I was so rushed I snatched up a rose-colored parasol and paid for it before I thought about it. I know it will fade, because pink always does. A white parasol would match my dresses and wear better, too. After I bought the parasol, I went to the book department and picked up Daniel Deronda. Then I fell into temptation and bought The Woman in White. I know Mr. Rosenbach would lend me his copy, but I didn’t want him to know that I wanted to read Wilkie Collins instead of Marcus Aurelius. The cheapest stockings were three pairs for twenty-nine cents, so I got them. Then I lost all control over myself and bought a bottle of carnation perfume. When I put it on last night, Malka asked me what the stink was, and truthfully, I couldn’t blame her because it does stink. I couldn’t wait to scrub it off. So I wasted thirty-five cents.

Mr. David came down to the kitchen Tuesday morning and hugged Malka — she said she was too old and frail to be bear-hugged like that, but I know she liked it. Of course I had to be scrubbing the inside of the oven when he came down. Why couldn’t I have been doing something pretty, like creaming together butter and sugar? No, there I was, in my canvas apron, with my sleeves rolled up and my hands smeared with stove grease. He said, “So this is the new girl?” and Malka said I was named Janet. And he said, “How do you do?” as if we’d never met.

Now he’s gone back to New York. Not that I care. I think there might have been some kind of scandal about him coming back from New York so unexpectedly, in the middle of the night. There’s been a lot of shouting upstairs. I didn’t pay much heed to it, because Mr. Rosenbach shouts even when he’s happy. But when Mr. David went back to New York, Mr. Rosenbach went with him, and they were both in a very bad humor. I’m not sure when they’re coming back.

I was a fool ever to think Mr. David was flirting with me. Of course he wasn’t. If he had been, that would have been a little bit interesting, but nothing interesting ever happens to me, because that is not my destiny.

I wonder if Mimi knows what happened in New York.