“Since you're unhappy I have something for you,” he said, with that dangerous tone which made my heart beat quicker, despite all my efforts to remain indifferent, to avoid responding, to avoid letting him know to what extent his words had touched me.
The door creaked slightly as a maid came in. She stared at the floor, carrying a silver tray full of food. She was young, not much older than I am, and her black hair was so tightly twisted back that it looked like it would be very uncomfortable. Soon the room smelled of chicken cooked on a rotisserie and herbs, but I was not hungry; instead my stomach was full of anxiety.
She dropped the tray upon the little table beside us with slightest noise, the china knocking together in a gentle tone, and then stood there awaiting--so near, cr
