The Little Servant Girl

My Story

When the two children had sunk into sleep and Layla heard the even rhythm of their breathing, she sat on the edge of the bed and laid her head on the pillow, to rest a while until the mistress of the house should call her. She stayed propped on her side, her legs outside the bedding, without thinking of taking off her clothes, for it was no later than ten o'clock, and Sitt Marie was bound to call her for some need — to hand her the pitcher, to let down the mosquito net for her, or to shut the window.

But she heard her voice speaking to her husband in the hall — and felt her steps turning toward the bedroom. Then the lights went out, silence fell, and no one called her..

Had she, then, happened upon a merciful, tender-hearted lady, better than the one with whom she had begun her service?

Her heart quailed when she thought of Sitt Salma, whose house she had left two weeks before. She had allowed her to go when she came down with influenza. So she went to her mother's house, hoping to return. And she did not return. For a whole week she kept seeing terrifying dreams in her sleep and would rise from her bed unawares, imagining that Sitt Salma was calling her in her harsh voice; she would go to see what she wanted, collide with the wall in her mother's cramped, wretched room, then retrace her steps and bury her head under the quilt.

Her new mistress shows her every kindness. Will she stay that way, or will she change? Does her face bespeak a genuine gentleness, or a feigned one?

Sitt Salma had been kind to her on her first day in service, meeting her with a broad smile, and so had her four children. But before long they turned. It began when she took the children out for a walk: they played in the dirt and pelted each other with stones, and she could not curb them, so she brought them home humbled and broken in spirit.

As for the parents, instead of disciplining the children and scolding them, they heaped blame and abuse upon her, as though she were the one responsible for their bad upbringing.

From that time her persecution began. If the boy broke a pitcher or dirtied his clothes, she was the guilty one, not the boy. If a shirt button was lost or the baker's boy came late, the fault was hers.

She would wait for everyone to finish eating at two in the afternoon and then eat their leavings — but only after clearing the table and washing the dishes, when her strength was spent and she was nearly dead with hunger. Nor could she eat when she was hungry, for the food cupboards were locked, and she could not eat before finishing her work.

Once she bought, with her few coins, a quantity of pistachios and sugared almonds and put them in a wrapper which she hid in her clothes bag. The next day she found the wrapper gone. She knew the children had stolen it, and she was afraid to tell the mother, lest she shout in her face: You accuse my children of stealing?? You alone are the thief!

How often she tried to please that lady, and never succeeded. She bore the children's blows and insults in silence. She would stay up at night darning stockings, or patching the torn sheets she slept on, or chasing the mosquitoes that attacked her, because the lady of the house begrudged her a mosquito net.

Would this woman prove better than that one? Her beginning was good, no doubt of that. True, the two children were much given to being spoiled and willful, like the rest of rich people's children, but they were less savage than Sitt Salma's children. And it appeared they were less gluttonous or greedy for food, for they did not quarrel over a piece of candy. And the mother was little inclined to talking and shouting. If she wanted something she did not always ask the servant to bring it to her, but went for what she needed herself when the servant was busy. That very day, while Layla was busy cleaning the dishes, she herself went up to the roof, gathered the pieces of dry laundry, and sprinkled them with water so that the servant could iron them when she finished the kitchen work. Isn't that astonishing?

She all but worshipped this new lady. And she would do everything in her power to keep her pleased with her, gentle with her...

Early in the morning she rose from sleep and swept the hall and the rooms before the household awoke. By late afternoon she had finished cleaning the kitchen and the dishes, and there was nothing left for her to do, so she sat on the bed to rest.

And she saw her mistress coming toward her, smiling, wearing the loose gown she wore for her midday nap.

— Put on your clothes, Layla, dress the two children, and take them for a walk out there among the fields. And don't forget to take an afternoon snack for them and for yourself.

Layla walked along with the two children, almost flying for joy as she nibbled the sandwich in her hand. The three of them played to their hearts' content in the fields and under the trees. Shortly before sunset they came back happy, dancing as they walked. But "Nadim" slipped out of her hand and ran off like a rabbit, without a glance at his two companions. Layla began running after him to stop him, holding Nada by the hand. But the little girl, unaccustomed to running at such speed, tripped over a stone in the road and fell to the ground; her knee was cut and bled, and her screaming and wailing rose high. The poor servant hurried to lift her up, her hands trembling with fear... In an instant her golden dreams collapsed, and her joy turned to worry and despair.. What she had feared had come to pass — and she had not yet been three days in the house. They would say she was responsible for the child's wound; they would shower her with blame and abuse and aim the arrows of their revenge at her. She had set her mind on pleasing her mistress by every possible means, and here she was doing the opposite. How would she dare look at her again?..

She reached the house dragging by the hand little Nada, who had not stopped screaming. When she had seated her on the chair, she told her mistress what had happened, with tears in her eyes. But Sitt Marie said not a word in reproach. Instead she hurried to the medicine cabinet and brought cotton, ointment, and a bandage. She wiped the wound, dabbed it with ointment, and bound it up. She wiped the girl's face with cold water. Then she sat down to her knitting, as if nothing had happened.