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- Стр. 121/182
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The
truth
was
that
Ermengarde
did
not
know
anything
of
the
sometimes
almost
unbearable
side
of
life
in
the
attic
and
she
had
not
a
sufficiently
vivid
imagination
to
depict
it
for
herself
.
On
the
rare
occasions
that
she
could
reach
Sara
's
room
she
only
saw
the
side
of
it
which
was
made
exciting
by
things
which
were
"
pretended
"
and
stories
which
were
told
.
Her
visits
partook
of
the
character
of
adventures
;
and
though
sometimes
Sara
looked
rather
pale
,
and
it
was
not
to
be
denied
that
she
had
grown
very
thin
,
her
proud
little
spirit
would
not
admit
of
complaints
.
She
had
never
confessed
that
at
times
she
was
almost
ravenous
with
hunger
,
as
she
was
tonight
.
She
was
growing
rapidly
,
and
her
constant
walking
and
running
about
would
have
given
her
a
keen
appetite
even
if
she
had
had
abundant
and
regular
meals
of
a
much
more
nourishing
nature
than
the
unappetizing
,
inferior
food
snatched
at
such
odd
times
as
suited
the
kitchen
convenience
.
She
was
growing
used
to
a
certain
gnawing
feeling
in
her
young
stomach
.
"
I
suppose
soldiers
feel
like
this
when
they
are
on
a
long
and
weary
march
,
"
she
often
said
to
herself
.
She
liked
the
sound
of
the
phrase
,
"
long
and
weary
march
.
"
It
made
her
feel
rather
like
a
soldier
.
She
had
also
a
quaint
sense
of
being
a
hostess
in
the
attic
.
"
If
I
lived
in
a
castle
,
"
she
argued
,
"
and
Ermengarde
was
the
lady
of
another
castle
,
and
came
to
see
me
,
with
knights
and
squires
and
vassals
riding
with
her
,
and
pennons
flying
,
when
I
heard
the
clarions
sounding
outside
the
drawbridge
I
should
go
down
to
receive
her
,
and
I
should
spread
feasts
in
the
banquet
hall
and
call
in
minstrels
to
sing
and
play
and
relate
romances
.
When
she
comes
into
the
attic
I
ca
n't
spread
feasts
,
but
I
can
tell
stories
,
and
not
let
her
know
disagreeable
things
.
I
dare
say
poor
chatelaines
had
to
do
that
in
time
of
famine
,
when
their
lands
had
been
pillaged
.
"
She
was
a
proud
,
brave
little
chatelaine
,
and
dispensed
generously
the
one
hospitality
she
could
offer
--
the
dreams
she
dreamed
--
the
visions
she
saw
--
the
imaginings
which
were
her
joy
and
comfort
.
So
,
as
they
sat
together
,
Ermengarde
did
not
know
that
she
was
faint
as
well
as
ravenous
,
and
that
while
she
talked
she
now
and
then
wondered
if
her
hunger
would
let
her
sleep
when
she
was
left
alone
.
She
felt
as
if
she
had
never
been
quite
so
hungry
before
.
"
I
wish
I
was
as
thin
as
you
,
Sara
,
"
Ermengarde
said
suddenly
.
"
I
believe
you
are
thinner
than
you
used
to
be
.
Your
eyes
look
so
big
,
and
look
at
the
sharp
little
bones
sticking
out
of
your
elbow
!
"
Sara
pulled
down
her
sleeve
,
which
had
pushed
itself
up
.
"
I
always
was
a
thin
child
,
"
she
said
bravely
,
"
and
I
always
had
big
green
eyes
.
"
"
I
love
your
queer
eyes
,
"
said
Ermengarde
,
looking
into
them
with
affectionate
admiration
.
"
They
always
look
as
if
they
saw
such
a
long
way
.
I
love
them
--
and
I
love
them
to
be
green
--
though
they
look
black
generally
.
"
