“For a soldier, you know. But it’s wrong—because, you see, he’s the breadwinner! We can’t get on without him. … Be a father to us, sir!”
“But how is it? Is he the only man in the family?”
“Just so … the only man!”
“Then how is it they have taken him, if he’s the only man?”
“Who can tell why they’ve done it? … Here am I, left alone with the children! There’s nothing for me but to die. … Only I’m sorry for the children! My last hope is in your kindness, because, you see, it was not right!”
I wrote down the name of her village, and her name and surname, and told her I would see about it and let her know.
“Help me, if it’s only ever so little! … The children are hungry, and, God’s my witness, I haven’t so much as a crust. The baby is worst of all … there’s no milk in my breasts. If only the Lord would take him!”
“Haven’t you a cow?” I asked.
“A cow? Oh, no! … Why, we’re all starving!” said she, crying, and trembling all over in her tattered coat.
I let her go, and prepared for my customary walk. It turned out that the doctor, who lives with us, was going to visit a patient in the village the soldier’s wife had come from, and another patient in the village where the District Police Station is situated, so I joined him, and we drove off together.
I went into the Police Station, while the doctor attended to his business in that village.