he ceiling and at the window hung
canaries in cages; there were perhaps ten or twelve, and the little
creatures, excited by the light, trilled as if they were intoxicated by
their own singing.

"Oh, the birds," said Billy surprised.

"Them!" said Lina peevishly, "they yelp all daylong."

Billy had to sit down on the sofa, and Lina began to undress her. She
drew off her shoes, then her stockings. "The little feet," she
murmured, "I can hold one of 'em in my hand like a little bird." She
was quite absorbed in her task, and talked to herself like a child
playing quietly in a corner with its doll. "The lovely underwear, and
wet through and through, and we have a skin like silk, there, there,
and now comes the shirt, brand new it is, I made it for my wedding."

"For your wedding!" asked Billy, who obeyed mechanically the big,
careful hands.

"The wedding, well, that's all up now anyhow," said Lina, bustling back
and forth between her chests and Billy. "There, this dress here, it's a
bit tight for me, for the young lady it'll be all right. Nope, it's too
big after all, we'll have to pin it together," and the two girls began
to laugh at the loose dress, quite loudly, quite helplessly. Lina sat
down, slapped her knees, and held her sides. The canaries tried to
outsing the laughter of the girls. Now Billy was ready. She asked for a
mirror, surveyed herself attentively, then put away the mirror
satisfied and said, "Very good, your clothes are as soothing as
smelling-salts."

Lina went out to prepare something to eat, and Billy leaned back on the
sofa and closed her eyes. Yes, she really felt as if she had put away
with her clothes the cares and unrest of the former Billy. With the
dotted blue and white linen dress, with the big collar and the coarse
shirt that scratched her skin, it seemed as if she had imbibed
something of the carefree, almost shameless peacefulness with which
Lina had lazily and indolently moved her body, distorted by motherhood,
along the vegetable beds of the garden.

Now Lina brought milk, a shiny, brown loaf, and a great deal of honey.
Billy began to eat; at first with ravenous hunger, then slowly with
enjoyment, almost with devotion: she could not remember ever having had
anything taste so good to her.

When she was satisfied, she rested her arms heavily on the table. In
these unwonted clothes she had an impulse to go through motions which
were otherwise never characteristic of her, which perhaps