The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. Advancing towards him, he made him a formal salutation, which was coldly returned. "You shall not pass," cried several of the crowd. 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.
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