“She slept a great deal, though lightly, often rousing from dreams. Her pulse fluttered weak, like a wounded bird, and she had no strength. Nonetheless she whispered her commands that she be helped out of bed for bathing and necessities. Such times left her exhausted for hours, but her head remained always clear. Besides the wedded couple who were her only servants, the other Gallicenae insisted on abiding in her house, each a day and night in turn. They allowed no more than very brief visits by... the many who came, nor did they themselves tax her with much talk. Often, though, they read aloud to her from books she loved. Rainstorms gave way to fog. As summer waned, Ys lay in a chill dankness and a white blindness that seemed to go on without end. Quinipilis could not get warm, even when the hypocaust had made the floor too hot for bare feet. The Sisters kept her tucked in fleece blankets and rubbed her hands and feet—carefully, as deformed and tender as those had become. They brought soup and upheld her maned skull while spooning it into her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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