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There
had
been
another
ordeal
once
—
so
many
years
ago
.
A
skinny
girl
with
hair
the
color
of
bronze
,
her
body
tortured
by
the
winds
of
puberty
,
had
entered
the
study
of
the
Reverend
Mother
Gaius
Helen
Mohiam
,
Proctor
Superior
of
the
Bene
Gesserit
school
on
Wallach
IX
.
Jessica
looked
down
at
her
right
hand
,
flexed
the
fingers
,
remembering
the
pain
,
the
terror
,
the
anger
.
“
Poor
Paul
,
”
she
whispered
.
“
I
asked
you
a
question
,
Jessica
!
”
The
old
woman
’
s
voice
was
snappish
,
demanding
.
“
What
?
Oh
.
.
.
.
”
Jessica
tore
her
attention
away
from
the
past
,
faced
the
Reverend
Mother
,
who
sat
with
back
to
the
stone
wall
between
the
two
west
windows
.
“
What
do
you
want
me
to
say
?
”
“
What
do
I
want
you
to
say
?
What
do
I
want
you
to
say
?
”
The
old
voice
carried
a
tone
of
cruel
mimicry
.
“
So
I
had
a
son
!
”
Jessica
flared
.
And
she
knew
she
was
being
goaded
into
this
anger
deliberately
.
“
You
were
told
to
bear
only
daughters
to
the
Atreides
.
”
“
It
meant
so
much
to
him
,
”
Jessica
pleaded
.
“
And
you
in
your
pride
thought
you
could
produce
the
Kwisatz
Haderach
!
”
Jessica
lifted
her
chin
.
“
I
sensed
the
possibility
.
”
