"Oh, I ache!—every bone in me aches!" she sobbed, and for the first time she wept.
"That is right," said the old woman, and soothed her with her hand, "now sleep, and I will have something for you when you wake."
Her body sank, relaxed, upon the soft boughs, and it was as if a sponge were wiped across her mind, and she slept.
Time passed over her; she had no way of knowing if they were minutes or hours that ran by.
When she awoke, a gentle, steady humming filled the air; a murmurous, musical sound that calmed every sense. It was like the turning of a great wheel or the rocking of an old cradle.
"What is that?" she asked faintly.
"They are my bees, child," said the old woman. "They have come home."
She was slender, with brown eyes like brook water, and though she was wrinkled finely, she was straight and strong, for she lifted up her guest and half carried her to the opposite corner of the hut.
"Now wash," she said, "and then you must eat."
A cold, deep spring welled up in that corner, and as she plunged her face into it she opened her hot eyes to let the icy water cool them—and gazed at the white moon far below her and the small stars.