In a small yet intricate courtyard, there was a room with its curtains drawn. Inside the room, a female servant was looking at a woman with a pale complexion lying on the bed. The former wore an urgent expression as she said, "Mistress, please have some food. The midwife says you could be due at any moment now, but you haven't eaten for so many days; things can't continue like this."
Miranda lay on the bed with her bulging stomach, looking as if she really were about to give birth at any moment. However, her swollen face was extremely pale, and she opened her eyes in a feeble manner to glance at the bowl of porridge that the servant was holding. Just the sight of the porridge was enough to make her heave and dry-wretch violently, and she closed her eyes again as she shook her head. "I can't eat anything. Take it away."
She knew that she had to eat for her child, but she simply couldn't do so.
