THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL : THE DEFINITIVE EDITION ... - Fidele

"I did my best, but I couldn't find any smaller ones."
"Did you look in the big barrel?"
"Yes, I've been through them all."
By this time I was at the bottom of the stairs, and he examined the pan of
potatoes he was still holding. "Oh, but these are fine," he said, and added, as I
took the pan from him, "My compliments!"
As he said this, he gave me such a warm, tender look that I started glowing
inside. I could tell he wanted to please me, but since he couldn't make a long
complimentary speech, he said everything with his eyes. I understood him so well
and was very grateful. It still makes me happy to think back to those words and
that look!
When I went downstairs, Mother said she needed more potatoes, this time for
dinner, so I volunteered to go back up. When I entered Peter's room, I apologized
for disturbing him again. As I was going up the stairs, he stood up, went over to
stand between the stairs and the wall, grabbed my arm and tried to stop me.
"I'll go," he said. "I have to go upstairs anyway."
I replied that it wasn't really necessary, that I didn't have to get only the
small ones this time. Convinced, he let go of my arm. On my way back, he opened
the trapdoor and once again took the pan from me. Standing by the door, I asked,
"What are you working on?"
"French," he replied.
I asked if I could take a look at his lessons. Then I went to wash my hands and
sat down across from him on the divan.
After I'd explained some French to him, we began to talk. He told me that after
the war he wanted to go to the Dutch East Indies and live on a rubber plantation.
He talked about his life at home, the black market and how he felt like a
worthless bum. I told him he had a big inferiority complex. He talked about the
war, saying that Russia and England were bound to go to war against each other,
and about the Jews. He said life would have been much easier if he'd been a
Christian or could become one after the war. I asked if he wanted to be baptized,
but that wasn't what he meant either. He said he'd never be able to feel like a
Christian, but that after the war he'd make sure nobody would know he was Jewish.
I felt a momentary pang. It's such a shame he still has a touch of dishonesty in
him.
Peter added, "The Jews have been and always will be the chosen people!"
I answered, "Just this once, I hope they'll be chosen for something good!"
But we went on chatting very pleasantly, about Father, about judging human
character and all sorts of things, so many that I can't even remember them all.
I left at a quarter past five, because Bep had arrived.
That evening he said something else I thought was nice. We were talking about the
picture of a movie star I'd once given him, which has been hanging in his room for
at least a year and a half. He liked it so much that I offered to give him a few
more.