Stella

Chapter VIII

Stella had spent one year in that house and she had no intention of spending any more time there.

What a life this is, this whole week, breaking my back, taking orders from that crone waiting for Sunday so I can finally get out for a few hours.

On the ground floor, the situation seemed to have calmed down. Stella went downstairs and headed for the exit like an arrow.

"Where do you think you're going?" Elvira grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Today is Sunday, ma'am, it's my free day."

"I will decide if it is your free day!"

"But the Count had said ..."

"Silence! Now, I make decisions in this house!" Then her gaunt face made a grimace of complacency, "You will only go out if I do not find a speck of dust in the entrance hall. You were to clean it, am I right?" Elvira dragged her finger a little everywhere, but there was no trace of dust. She started to get nervous.

"Sara!" She yelled. The cook came running.

"What do you want me to do, ma'am."

"Move that cupboard away from the wall!"

"But madam," Sarah protested.

"You just do it! "Elvira slipped her bony finger across the back of the cabinet and pulled it up gray with dust. Pointing at Stella with a sarcastic tone, she said, "I fear, my dear, that your free day is over you will stay at home to clean it," and then went away laughing.

"I hate her, I hate her, I HATE HER!" cried Stella infuriated. "I don't care, I'll go out just the same!"

"Are you crazy?" Sara interrupted. "When Elvira gets to know, she will become furious!"

"Well, worse than that, it can't be!" Stella exclaimed. She headed with great strides toward the majestic door and pushed against the panels with two hands.

"Take this at least," said Sara running after her and wrapping a woolen scarf around her neck, "I wanted to give it to you for Christmas, but it's better that you use it today, seeing how cold it is."

"Did you make it? "Sara nodded. Stella hugged her and whispered in her ear, "I love you, don't worry, I'll be back soon. Tell Elvira I'm locked in the attic and I don't feel well." Then she snuck out and closed the door. She inhaled deeply. The cold air came into her nose and went out of her mouth in a cloud of vapor. The first snowflakes began to fall from the wooly sky. Stella arranged her scarf better and walked down the stone steps of the threshold. As she came to the sidewalk she noticed the white cat she had seen on the roof before sitting in front of her staring at her. "Look at who's there!" she said, grinning. The cat raised its tail, rubbed itself against her legs affectionately and looked at her meowing. It had incredible green eyes that glittered like precious gems.

"Hello curly-head, is that your cat?" asked Albertino, putting his head out of his shop.

"No, I never saw him before," Stella said.

"It's been there for half an hour standing still and looking at that door, as if waiting for someone."

"Strange. There has never been a cat in this palace, the mistress cannot stand animals."

"Seems to me that your mistress cannot even bear people."

"Yes, especially me."

"However, from the celebration that cat is making it looks like this kitty has been waiting just for you. "Stella remained on the threshold a little longer, hoping to hear the very words Albertino were about to pronounce: "Would you like a hot bun just out of the oven? "Stella's face lit up, she smiled, bending her head slightly and agreed. Entering that bakery was pure joy; the heat of the fire, the scent of still-smoking loaves set out in large wicker baskets, and then the feast of countless buns garnished in a thousand ways.