She was amazed that at over sixhundred years old that she could miss her parents so bitterly. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. E. E. Rowland and his companions instantly started in pursuit, leaving the lady to recover as she might. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. " "Yes.
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