He stood before her and sang his most beautiful songs. He sang about her almond eyes and her gentle mouth; about her small hands, which always spoke so sweetly to him; about her breath, which came more quickly when she was anxious; and about her straight black hair, which gleaned when the sunlight streamed into the kitchen. He sang about her slender arms, which could do so much work; about her weary legs, which made the long walk down the beach every day; and about the wonderful scent of her skin, which smelled of sea air, sweat, and roses. The song's words and its tune were so indescribably beautiful that all the birds for miles around stopped singing as they recognized the voice of their master; that nightingale among humans, the singer Mee.