I raised a piercing cry; Fazy instantly turned back the wheel, and the blood gushed from my fingers.

In the extremity of consternation he hastened to me, embraced me, and besought me to cease my cries, or he would be undone.

In the height of my own pain, I was touched by his; I instantly fell silent, we ran to the pond, where he helped me to wash my fingers and to staunch the blood with moss.

He entreated me with tears not to accuse him; I promised him that I would not, and I kept my word so well that twenty years after no one knew the origin of the scar.

I was kept in bed for more than three weeks, and for more than two months was unable to use my hand.