The Deserter (pulling out the nails): They do not hold firmly.—They can be used again. That stone will be my hammer.
The Princess: Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
The Deserter: Give me your hands.
The Princess (hiding her hands and smiling with terror): No! No!
The Deserter: You do not wish it? Of what use are they?
The Princess: I tell you this, my friend. These hands that do not know how to work
Could bring a better nourishment than bread,
Although I know how to make bread as well.
And you, what prompts you to devour me?
And those who saw me took no thought of food and, young or old, their hearts burned within them.