She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. "The ceiling is breaking! the floor is opening! he is coming to me!" cried the unhappy woman.
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