My mother speaks a lot of nonsense, and bets on chance instead of resorting to wisdom, but we must be kind to her. Do you remember my godmother? The weaver’s sister? My mother asked her to teach me. She wanted me to be happy, as I found spinning boring. It is not shameful at all, on the contrary, see how respected I am. Where else would I have gotten such a decent dowry anyway? Not from the captain, I wouldn’t have. Instead of taking care of my mother, he spent all his wages on goods above our means: silver buckles, hair wax, stamped leather, tobacco from Holland. It made him feel as if he were in a class apart. Ill-tempered, he liked to pace back and forth in our garret, fume, punch the table.

– It is shameful ! A respectable woman weaves or spins. She does not foul her hands with the innards of the poor. Even baking is more honorable! Even, even carding is more honorable!

Who was he to me? While he ranted away, my mother gulped down her wine and grimaced behind his back. I was too old to be amused by her pranks. Soon I left to live with my godmother.

r,