nately agitated, she began to cry. I was
her favorite; my brother, two years younger than I, was my father's
favorite. The reason was that I resembled my mother, and my brother
seemed to resemble my father, though this was by no means the case, as
was proved later.

My parents lived on the best of terms with one another so long as there
was bread in the house. There were painful scenes at times when it was
lacking. This seldom occurred in summer, but often happened in winter
when work was scarce. Although these scenes never degenerated into
violence, I cannot remember the time when they were not more terrible to
me than anything else, and for that very reason I may not pass over them
in silence.

I can remember an unpleasant incident of another kind which took place
in my earliest childhood. It is the first that I recollect and it may
have happened in my third year, if not in my second. I can tell about it
without offending against the sacred memory of my parents; for whoever
sees in it anything out of the ordinary is not acquainted with the lower
classes. My father when following his trade generally had his meals
provided by the persons for whom he worked. Then we at home, like all
other families, ate our usual midday meal. Occasionally, however, he had
to furnish his own food, in return for extra wages. Then dinner was
deferred, and in order to ward off hunger a simple bread and butter
sandwich was partaken of at twelve o'clock. It was an economical
arrangement for the little household which could not afford two large
meals. On one such day my mother baked some pancakes, certainly more to
please us children than to satisfy any desire of her own. We ate them
with the utmost relish and promised not to say anything about them to
our father in the evening. When he arrived we had already gone to bed
and were sound asleep. I do not know whether he may have been accustomed
to find us still up and the contrary event made him suspect that the
rule of the household had been broken. Suffice it to say he awoke me,
petted me, took me in his arms and asked me what I had eaten.
"Pancakes," I answered, sleepily. He then proceeded to reproach my
mother with it. She had nothing to say, and placed his food before him,
throwing me a glance, however, which foretold evil to come. When we were
alone again the next day, she, to use her own expression, gave me with a
rod a forcible lesson in silence. At other times, on the contrary, she
inc