his anger knew no bounds.

He had a stepson himself, — However, he wouldn't have wanted me as his

daughter-in-law. Father and son lived like cat and dog. But I think he wanted some kind of revenge. And
you know what he did? As you know, I had found a gainful job for myself. I saved my money like sheep
in order to use it for my mother and Boris. Boris was sick all the time around this time. I had him
delivered to a famous sanatorium near Dresden. I planned to travel there for Christmas, for the pleasure
of him and myself. But guess what happened?

Tamara got up and started walking furiously along the floor. It seemed as if the mere memory still
shocked him.

— When I started talking about my trip, he continued, the uncle was in a bad mood because of an
unpaid bill from one of his newly arrived stepsons.

— Do you have money? For trips abroad! — The uncle threw the bill on the table in front of me. — I
have paid a lot for you so that once you could pay something for me too! — He looked at me with one
eye closed. — Let gratitude take its place!

I looked anxiously at my mother. He was very pale, and his eyes had the suffering expression of a
wretch. But at the same time I saw a prayer in it.

— Let gratitude take its place, I said and threw the new hundred rupiahs on the table in front of my
uncle. Then I rushed to my room, threw myself on my bed and covered my mouth with my pillow so that
my mother wouldn't hear how I was crying.

Tamara got up to improve the fireplace. I saw his face light up — Christmas didn't feel like Christmas
that year. But I regretted that too, he added quietly. — The following year, mother was gone.

I turned the conversation around. Everything that moved Tamara also seemed to consume her. And the
memories of the past invariably seemed to upset his mind. That's why I was glad to get an unsought
talking point from the old Sanja of the family, who, like a Russian servant, seemed to love his master as
devoutly and faithfully as a dog. I inquired about Sanja's earlier stages and found that I had guessed
correctly. As a growing girl, Sanja had worked for Tamara's grandmother, separated from the family after
getting married, but returned to Tamara's mother as a widow. For a pittance, he had followed Tamara to
her home faithfully to share with her both good and bad days. Two of Sanja's sons had already fallen in
the war, the third as well as his young grandson were at the front.
 My good intentions didn't get me very far this time. As soon as Sanja's story was told, Tamara's
thoughts drifted back to her own experiences.

— There is something terrible about poverty, he burst into speech, something much, much worse than
not having money when there should be. Poverty lowers a person in his own eyes and in the eyes of
others. It determines his relationship with his entire environment. It's a hard, always torturous squeeze.

I tried to resist, or at least moderate his words. But he didn't give me a word: — I know that. I have
experienced it. — He spoke from a distance with a ferocity rooted in the past.

— You would know how hard and bitter I became in those past years! I felt the value of money so
keenly that I distanced myself from those closest to me. I was afraid of acquaintances who might ask for
a loan. I was afraid of the poor. They might beg or steal from us. — Once, in my distress, I went to ask
my uncle for help, despite the fact that our relationship had completely broken after my mother's death
and my marriage. I came inappropriately, I noticed. But I didn't dare turn back. Boris was in bed again
and within a week two bills fell due. As nonchalantly as possible, I immediately after greeting him threw
to come: uncle, do you have money to borrow?

Ukko let out his usual laugh. — Or money! You would have thought