"Yes, I suffered exceedingly in
that foundling asylum. Almost all my little companions were spiteful,
unattractive in person, sallow, thin, and afflicted with all kinds of
diseases, as if they were not unfortunate enough in being abandoned
by their parents. And--to my shame, monsieur, I must confess it--these
unfortunate little beings inspired me with unconquerable repugnance,
with disgust bordering on aversion. I would rather have pressed my lips
to a red-hot iron than to the forehead of one of these children. I did
not reason on the subject, alas! I was only eight or nine years old;
but I felt this antipathy in every fibre of my being. The others knew it
too; and, in revenge, they ironically styled me 'the lady,' and left me
severely alone. But sometimes, during playtime, when the good sisters'
backs were turned, the children attacked me, beat me, and scratched my
face and tore my clothes. I endured these onslaughts uncomplainingly,
for I was conscious that I deserved them. But how many reprimands my
torn clothes cost me! How many times I received only a dry crust for my
supper, after being soundly scolded and called 'little careless.' But
as I was quiet, studious, and industrious, a quicker learner than the
majority of my companions, the sisters were fond of me. They said that I
was a promising girl, and that they would have no difficulty in finding
me a nice home with some of the rich and pious ladies who have a share
in managing institutions of this kind. The only fault the sisters found
with me was that I was sullen. But such was not really the case; I was
only sad and resigned. Everything around me so depressed and saddened me
that I withdrew into myself, and buried all my thoughts and aspirations
deep in my heart. If I had naturally been a bad child, I scarcely know
what would have been the result of this. I have often asked myself the
question in all sincerity, but I have been unable to reply, for one
cannot be an impartial judge respecting one's self. However, this much
is certain, although childhood generally leaves a train of pleasant
recollections in a young girl's life, mine was only fraught with torture
and misery, desperate struggles, and humiliation. I was unwilling to
be confirmed because I did not wish to wear a certain dress, which a
'benevolent lady' had presented for the use of the asylum, and which had
belonged to a little girl of my own age who had died of consumption.
The thought of arraying myse