Little Pierre . re the insoluble mys-tery of my perversity. How was I to explain it toher, however, if I could not talk? The few wordswhich I was able to babble were of no service to mein the present crisis. Planted at length on my feet,I stood there panting and tearful. And Alphonsine,bending over me, wiped my eyes, petted me, andpleaded for me: He is such a tiny little fellow. Please dontscold him, Madame Noziere. I should be so sorry;I am so fond of him. Not once only, but a score of times did Alphonsineembrace me ecstatically and dig pins into my legs. Later on, when I could talk, I denoun
Little Pierre . re the insoluble mys-tery of my perversity. How was I to explain it toher, however, if I could not talk? The few wordswhich I was able to babble were of no service to mein the present crisis. Planted at length on my feet,I stood there panting and tearful. And Alphonsine,bending over me, wiped my eyes, petted me, andpleaded for me: He is such a tiny little fellow. Please dontscold him, Madame Noziere. I should be so sorry;I am so fond of him. Not once only, but a score of times did Alphonsineembrace me ecstatically and dig pins into my legs. Later on, when I could talk, I denounced herperfidy to my mother and to Madame Mathias, whohad the care of me. But they didnt believe me. 28 LITTLE PIERRE They blamed me for slandering the innocent inorder to palliate my own misdeeds. It is a long time ago, now, since I forgave Al-phonsine her cruel deceit, and even her greasy more, I am grateful to her for having vastlyadded, when I was but two years old, to my knowl-edge of human CHAPTER IV LITTLE PIERRE GETS INTO THE NEWSPAPERS O long as I was unable to read, news-papers had a mysterious attractionfor me. When I used to see myfather spreading out their bigsheets covered all over with littleblack signs, when passages wereread aloud and connected ideas were producedfrom those same signs, it seemed to me asthough I were a party to some work of this sheet so thin and covered with linesso tiny, lines that had no signification in myeyes, there issued tidings of crimes, disasters,adventures, festivals—of Napoleon Bonaparteescaping from the fort of Ham; of Tom Thumbdressed up like a general; of the stalled OxDagobert being led through Paris; of the murder ofthe Duchesse de Praslin. All these things were con-tained in a single sheet of paper, all these things andnumberless others besides, things not so solemn butmore homely, whereby my curiosity was were Misters who gave blows or receivedthem, who got run over by vehicles, wh
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