Separated from the village comrades, and I appeared in "the big world"

At the age of eleven I was sent to study at the Basel gymnasium, and it
meant quite a lot. I was separated from the village comrades, and I
appeared in "the big world" filled with "big people", much more
influential than my father; they lived in splendid houses, drove about in
expensive carriages pulled by horses wonderful, exquisitely explained on
German and French. Their well-dressed sons with excellent manners and
the abundance of pocket money became my school friends. With surprise and
secret envy I listened to their stories about holidays, held in the Alps. They
been there, among the blazing mountain peaks near Zurich, they even
visited the sea - the last me absolutely stunned. I looked at them,
if they were creatures from another world, they were surrounded by an aura of inaccessibility,
"blazing mountain peaks", the distant and unimaginable sea. When I first
realized that we are poor my father is a poor village priest, and I -
even more the poor son of a priest, I have holey shoes and I'm six hours
in a row sitting in school in wet socks. I saw their parents in a different light
and began to understand their concerns and  anxiety. I especially sympathized with the father, and
what is surprising - much less a mother. It always seemed to me stronger.
However, when the father gave vent to their irritation, I've always been
her side. The need for such a choice is not the best way impact on
my character. I took on the role of the highest judge, who nolens-volens
I had to judge parents. It made me somewhat
arrogant, but at the same time, my insecurities grew.
 I was nine years old when my sister was born. The father was excited and
pleased. "Today you have a little sister," said he to me,
and I was very surprised because I haven't noticed. I didn't care
the fact that the mother remained for a long time in bed, otherwise I'd consider it
an unforgivable weakness. Father took me to my parent bed, and she
handed me the little creature, which I was terribly disappointed:
red and wrinkled like an old woman, face, closed eyes. "I guess
the same blind as a newborn puppy", I thought. I showed
a few long red hairs on her back. Maybe she'll grow up
a monkey? I was upset and didn't know how to treat this. Is it
look newborns? They mumbled something about the stork which
brought the child. How about puppies or kittens? How many times would the stork
to fly back and forth, before he would gather the whole litter? What about cows? I
couldn't imagine how stork managed to bring in its beak a calf.
This story seems to have belonged to one of those deceptions, which me
time treated. I was sure of it. They once again did something that
I shouldn't, not supposed to know.
 Unexpected the emergence of sisters left in my soul a vague aftertaste
the mistrust that has heightened my curiosity and observation. Appeared
subsequently, the odd behavior of the mother has confirmed me in the suspicion that
this birth was due to something sad. For the rest, it's not too
I was worried about, though perhaps somehow reflected on the experience
another event that occurred a year later.
 The mother had an annoying habit of giving me a variety of good advice,
when I went somewhere to visit. In these cases I put
carnival costume and to Shine cleaned shoes. I was aware of the importance of
the moment, and it seemed to me humiliating that people on the street heard all those
shameful for me replica, which the mother shouted after me: "And don't forget
give them regards from Papa and Mama, and wipe your nose - handkerchief you have? You
I washed my hands?" etc. I hit this obvious injustice: the sense
of inferiority inseparable from vanity, had thus
exposed, while I struggled to seem confident.
Going for a visit, I was important and full of dignity as always, when on weekdays
the day wore  festive costume. But everything changed once in front of me
there was a house where I was going. I was possessed by a certain feeling of elegance and
superiority of its inhabitants. I was afraid of them and from self
insignificance was ready to sink into the ground. With this feeling I called
the door. The door-bell sounded in my ears the death knell. I was
cowardly and timid, like a stray dog. Even worse, if the mother had time for me
advance to "prepare". "My shoes are dirty and my feet; I had no handkerchief, and
the neck is black with dirt". Of contrariness I conveyed greetings from
parents were too shy and stubborn. When times were bad, I
remembered the secret treasure in the attic and it helped to restore emotional
equilibrium, I thought of myself as "the other person" - the person who owns
a mystery nobody knows: a black stone and a man in the cylinder and
black dress.