Previously published: Morning and Evening, Parts I, II, III, IV, V and VI

Hinda lay on the earth with her white limbs out, her dress crumpled to her waist, so that her long pale legs were bared against the brown earth. Yossel stayed pinned in his hollow, breathless. And finally she began, as if assembling herself anew, to smooth her skirts, to close her legs, to rise up from the dust. Her plait was loosened and her hair came tumbling down over her shoulders, matted with grass and birch kindling. Her movements were strained; when she began, at last, to walk, her legs seemed to jerk her forward without the intervention of her will. As she walked, she took her plait in her hand, and Yossel watched her, easing himself out of the hollow in silence. As she walked, she plucked out her long bright hairs, and dropped them, one by one, into the dust.