When maids arrived with our refreshment, I felt shy to eat at table. “Are you not hungry?” asked Ysabeau. But hunger meant something different to me now, and I was overwhelmed by delicacies, the sweetness of strawberries, the luscious flesh of plums. I spent more time looking at my food than eating it. Indeed, I stared at everything. The fruit, the furniture, the silk clothes our little charges wore. Fireplaces faced in stone, tracery framing our glass windows. Had I once thought the north tower poor? Had I found these rooms cold?
