"She was the daughter of the veterinarian. He killed his whole family." (Tired after her visit to the prison, Mari was patient as she listened to her mother repeat the story of the Jewish girl with beautiful hair.)
"He had that sort of thing... since he was a vet. Horse tranquilizer, they say. He heard about the orders. For the ghetto. In Makó. He knew the gendarmes would be coming. They had these big feathered hats." She drew out the word "big" as she traced the feather in her make-believe hat. "Even we were afraid of them. And naturally he was afraid... naturally! I mean, she was so beautiful. Who knows what --" (Mari knew why her mother paused.)
"Such lovely hair. Such a sweet girl. So kind. So beautiful." (Mari wondered what kindness the girl might have done to have made such an impression. Or was beauty alone enough?)
"And he was a good man, too." (Mari's mind wandered further. What would it take for her to kill her own family out of mercy?)
"Why them? They were good people." Her mother turned indignant, now talking to no one. "I mean, why didn't they take the gypsies?" (Mari, meanwhile, developed her answer. Not such a difficult question. Not so difficult at all. Not at all.)
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