Her voice recalled him. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. 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. Though it’s very kind of you. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. ‘I am sure you will. ‘It is precisely that point over which Melusine and I fell out.
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