Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. Her thought spoke aloud. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. But don't let my name frighten you. I thought about how insensitive my behavior was and even though I don’t think that I was being antiSemitic on purpose, I can see how dumb I was being. He said nothing. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. They are our food, Lucia, nothing more.
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