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- Стр. 70/182
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Ermengarde
looked
round
the
attic
with
a
rather
fearsome
curiosity
.
"
Sara
,
"
she
said
,
"
do
you
think
you
can
bear
living
here
?
"
Sara
looked
round
also
.
"
If
I
pretend
it
's
quite
different
,
I
can
,
"
she
answered
;
"
or
if
I
pretend
it
is
a
place
in
a
story
.
"
She
spoke
slowly
.
Her
imagination
was
beginning
to
work
for
her
.
It
had
not
worked
for
her
at
all
since
her
troubles
had
come
upon
her
.
She
had
felt
as
if
it
had
been
stunned
.
"
Other
people
have
lived
in
worse
places
.
Think
of
the
Count
of
Monte
Cristo
in
the
dungeons
of
the
Chateau
d'If
.
And
think
of
the
people
in
the
Bastille
!
"
"
The
Bastille
,
"
half
whispered
Ermengarde
,
watching
her
and
beginning
to
be
fascinated
.
She
remembered
stories
of
the
French
Revolution
which
Sara
had
been
able
to
fix
in
her
mind
by
her
dramatic
relation
of
them
.
No
one
but
Sara
could
have
done
it
.
A
well-known
glow
came
into
Sara
's
eyes
.
"
Yes
,
"
she
said
,
hugging
her
knees
,
"
that
will
be
a
good
place
to
pretend
about
.
I
am
a
prisoner
in
the
Bastille
.
I
have
been
here
for
years
and
years
--
and
years
;
and
everybody
has
forgotten
about
me
.
Miss
Minchin
is
the
jailer
--
and
Becky
"
--
a
sudden
light
adding
itself
to
the
glow
in
her
eyes
--
"
Becky
is
the
prisoner
in
the
next
cell
.
"
She
turned
to
Ermengarde
,
looking
quite
like
the
old
Sara
.
