with evident contempt. My white canvas shoes in November, my worn dress and old coat did not inspire their confidence. The girl next to whom I was seated moved to the very edge of the seat as if I were a leper. No, I felt better with the street urchins. In that setting everything took place along lines of friendship and appearances had no significance. Besides, everybody looked equally bad.
With an aching heart I decided to ignore them, try to study hard and then leave immediately. But when classes ended, the teacher called me over and told me that I would be eating in school. She gave me meal tickets for a week. This was free for those without parents. She showed me how to get to the dining room. A long table covered with an oilcloth stood in a small clean room. One had to take a plate and go for food to a window which opened into the kitchen. I received a full plate of porridge with sunflower oil and a large piece of bread. Some of the girls ate here also but not even one of them sat next to me. Having finished my porridge, I put the remainder of the bread into my pocket, said thanks at the kitchen window and left. I was also given a notebook and two books for free. Returning to the small house, I saw that Tat’iana Ivanovna was not home. She left the key hanging on a nail in the little shed. Entering, I knocked on her door nevertheless. There was no answer. I took hold of the doorknob, wanting to take a look at the cat, but could not get in. The door was locked. I sat down in my room to do homework. Tat’iana Ivanovna returned at four o’clock. “We will practice the dance now. Did you eat in school?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have some coffee, then I will call you.” The house came to smell de-liciously of coffee and something else that was good. In half an hour she called me. On the table in front of her were tights, tutus, and garlands. “Now try on all of these. I was fifteen years old when I wore these, but I was short and thin. You are so big that they might fit you now.” I tried everything on in my room. The pink tights and the tutus almost fit, and I presented myself to Tat’iana Ivanovna who found this was not bad at all. “You’ll grow a little
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more by spring and there will be no work until then anyway.” I danced in front of her for about an hour, cautiously repeating the movements of the dance. “Good. We’ll work this way everyday. Now go peel some potatoes and boil them. Wash my underwear that is soaking and hang it on the wire in the shed.” I did all this and went to my room. I felt myself very much an orphan and in order to distract myself I began to repeat the movements of my dance.
“Come to supper!” shouted Tat’iana Ivanovna. We sat down at the kitchen table and I was given three potatoes and a piece of herring. “You have the right to get food from the ARA [American Relief Administration]. Ask your teacher tomorrow where you are to go to get it.”
After lessons were over the next day, I walked up to the teacher in order to find out where I should go. She gave me an envelope with an address. Asking passersby, I finally found the street and the building. In a large room on the first floor sat a young woman who gave out food to older children from a list. When my turn came, having read the teacher’s letter, she asked: “Did you bring a bag for the food?” “No, I don’t have a bag!” I must have looked very upset because, smiling, she said: “Wait on the side, I will be there shortly and we’ll find something.” In a little while, another young woman replaced her and she went into the storeroom. Looking in the cabinets she found an old canvas bag. She gave me several cans of condensed milk, a large jar of coconut butter, a package of sugar, cocoa, and coffee. “Do you want some clothes?” asked the young woman, looking at my worn out garments. “We distribute only foodstuffs here, but there are some donated clothes as well, let’s look.” She quickly began to sort through items piled in the corner. Taking two dresses, she measured them up against me. Then she put a thick blue coat on me, completely new and very pretty. “There you go, we’ve dressed you up a bit.” Thanking her, I loaded up my treasures and set off.
It was already completely dark. The unfamiliar streets had an unfriendly look. I became sad that I was alone and had no one with whom to share my feelings and the tasty things. Tat’iana Ivanovna showed no warmth toward me whatsoever. I even wondered why she took me in. At that time I was far from comprehending her desire to make some money off me and have a free servant.
Entering the yard of the little house, which I could not possibly call my home, I saw that there were no lights in the windows. Feeling for the key on the nail, I walked into the house. I was very hungry. It would be good to eat my leftover bread with some condensed milk but I didn’t know what to use to open the can and went to my room. Having eaten my bread I sat down to do my lessons. Tat’iana Ivanovna still had not come. Removing the key from the keyhole of the front door so that she could enter with her key, I went to my room and lay down to sleep. I was exhausted from running around the
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streets, as well as from the cold and the agitation, and I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow.
Awakening suddenly because someone was touching my face, I opened my eyes. Light from the street lamp penetrated the room and I saw, standing next to the bed, a small person with a large head and protruding black hair. He touched my face again and I screamed wildly. A disheveled and sleepy Tat’iana Ivanovna ran in, took the person by the hand, and led him away. Returning to me, she explained: “That is my nephew. My sister died and it is a year now since he’s been living here. He’s a midget. He doesn’t do bad things but he looks so revolting that I have to hide him. He is locked up all day and sleeps but wanders around the house at night. This time, lock your door. In the morning, you’ll find cocoa ready with bread and butter.” For the first time in her tone a weak shadow of sincere warmth conveyed itself, addressed to this lonely trusting creature which had so simply followed her without hesitation or doubt.
Everything was going well at school. I did my lessons carefully and was attentive. The girls changed their attitude toward me from the moment that I began coming in a pretty woolen dress, black lacquered shoes and a quality coat. But they no longer existed for me. I almost never talked to them. I hurried to the small house to clean it, prepare my lessons and learn new steps. I liked dancing very much. Sometimes when thinking of my family and nanny and feeling the onset of tears, I would begin to invent numerous new movements.
Once Tat’iana Ivanovna said: “We have a chance to make some money. There’s going to be a big party with entertainment in a private home. You will come with me, sing to my accompaniment, and then dance. You are doing this quite well already.” She carefully unwound the pink tights, ironed the tutu, and straightened the silk rose on the little garland. “Everything is in order. I’ll put some makeup on you and you’ll be a dear.”
Saturday evening came and we set out for the Kreshchatik [main thoroughfare of Kiev] with two round cartons and our dresses. “This is the apartment where we’re going,” pointed Tat’iana Ivanovna to a series of large illuminated windows. We went up through the back entrance and the housemaid took us to a small room next to the kitchen where we changed. Tat’iana Ivanovna put on a long black evening dress, combed her hair very deftly, fastened artificial diamonds to her breast and hair, and became unrecognizable. She also combed my thick hair, binding it into a large knot at the back of my head, fastened the little charm of roses, stretched out the tights evenly, and touched up my cheeks, eyes, and lips. Glancing in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
We entered the living room. I was carrying Tat’iana Ivanovna’s guitar. The large hall was awash in light from the crystal chandelier suspended from the
