Paula the Waldensian | Page 4

was no better than I; but in the
school, thanks to his brilliancy of mind, he always seemed to skin
through somehow. Rosa was not a bit like her brother and sister; being
a model of patience, application and obedience. I was very proud of my
sister Rosa, and I loved and admired her, but I never had the slightest
desire to imitate her.
After my father had gone, nothing was talked of except our cousin
Paula. When would she come? What would she be like? Would she be
content to be here among us? All these were questions which we could
not answer as we knew very little about her. They had told me that
Paula lived in the Waldensian Valley--a country where the inhabitants
fed on black bread and lived in homes that were like stables. I had no
idea just exactly where the mountains of Piedmont were. I had searched
the map without being able to find the region, but I supposed it must be
somewhere between France, Italy and Switzerland.
There was another thing I had found out; namely, that Paula was about
my own age. What happiness! This fact I repeated over and over until
Louis told me to keep quiet. This attitude on his part I put down as
discontent because Paula wasn't a boy, so I kept repeating, "Paula's the
same as me!"
"For mercy's sake, will you keep quiet, Lisita? Besides you have your
grammar twisted as usual. It doesn't surprise me in the least that you're
always at the foot of the class, if that's the way you study."
"You can talk to me as you like," I answered, "but when Paula gets here

I'll never speak to you again, and I'll tell her not to say a word to you
either. I am mighty glad that Paula's a girl and not a disagreeable boy
like you."
"Oh, keep your Paula, much do I care!" replied Louis.
"Come, come," exclaimed Rosa, "what's the good of fighting over this
poor girl Paula whom neither of you have ever seen!"
"It's Louis' fault!"
"No, it's Lisita's!"
"It's the two of you! If Paula could see the way you quarrel I'm sure she
would not want to come. I hope she will love us all and we must all of
us love her also, because she's not only an orphan, but she's a niece of
our poor dear, dead mother."
Rosa knew well how to bring about peace. One word about our mother
was enough.
"See here, Lisita," and Rosa drew me toward her, "I see that you
haven't the slightest desire to study tonight, so close your book, and if
you get up early tomorrow morning I'll help you. Do you know what I
would do now if I were you."
"What?"
"I'd go and see Catalina, You know that she does not like to be alone all
of the afternoon, and I think Teresa has gone out If I didn't have so
much to do I'd see her myself. Now, look out you don't make too much
noise. Catalina has a terrible headache today."
"All right. I'm off!" I said.
The idea of visiting my oldest sister never made me very happy in
those days. In fart, I hardly ever entered her room because it bored me
terribly to be in the company of such a disagreeable invalid.

I remembered the time when Catalina was the liveliest and happiest
person in the whole house, but unfortunately all this had changed in an
instant. One day three years before, Catalina had fallen from the top of
a high cherry-tree which she had climbed against the advice of Teresa.
She was unconscious when we picked her up, and it seemed at first as if
she would die as a result of the fall. After six months of cruel suffering,
however, her youth had triumphed over death; but the big sister who
had always been as happy and as lively as a bird was gone from us, and
in her place remained a forlorn, unhappy girl with a poor twisted body,
who at rare intervals sallied from her room a few steps with the aid of
her crutches. Unfortunately her character had also suffered severely, for
in spite of the tenderness and solicitude of my father who sought to
satisfy her slightest desire, and in spite of the untiring care of Teresa
and the patience and sweetness of Rosa, Catalina's life was one long
complaint. Her room, with its white bed adorned with blue curtains and
its magnificent view of the fields and mountains, was the most
beautiful in the whole house. A pair of canaries sang for her in their
respective corners; the finest fruits were always for her; and as she was
a great reader,