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I did my best not to mind the many unsavoury incidents which occured daily in this particular family. I loved animals, but when Toto heaved his huge body on the table covered with a dirty table-cloth and there proceeded to poke his rheumy old nose into each place searching tid-bits, it was nauseating to a degree. But Toto was worshipped by Monsiuer and Madame and allowed all liberties. 

Then I was soon to find out that Monsieur had a violent temper which vented itself on such things as ants. A big species of these insects would follow an endless trail through the dining-room. On seeing them Monsieur Bidout, livid with rage, would get up and with the broad side of his dinner knife slash out and crush them in all directions. After this slaughter, wiping his knife on the napkin tied round his neck, he would continue his meal. This invariably turned my stomach, but not more so than the violent fits of choking and coughing which attacked him at meal-time. 

My bedroom was very cold in winter and during the summer, foul odours emanating from outside kept the window closed. I discovered that the dirty water and [[?]] were carried down and dumped into a large hole in the "garden". By the side of this hole grew a fig tree which owed its unusually luscious fruit to the proximity of the cess-pool. There figs duly appeared on the table but their honied succulence could make no appeal to me. 

Notwithstanding my uncongenial surroundings, I firmly intended to concentrate my attention on my work. Already the intricacies of French syntax were less formidable, and the page's song in "Les Huguenots" could be warbled correctly, if not enthusiastically. All seemed to point to dreary but studious days and at first I scarcely noticed that the hunchback daughter of the house was exerting an influence over me. 

She seemed removed by her deformity from ordinary human interests. I preferred not thinking about her. One day, however, looking up from under her fridge and fastening her grey eyes upon me.