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Part 4 After a day or so she thought more steadily. She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. CHAPTER VIII. You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. .
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