Squeals of terror everywhere, people who panic the moment they set on eyes on you, and scurry to cover, like black beetles, down the glaring streets. (1.1.2)
What could I do, a woman alone? I bolted my door.
Yes, but you left your window not quite closed, so as to hear the better, and, while you peeped behind the curtains and held your breath, you felt a little tingling itch between your loins, and didn't you enjoy it! (1.1.51-2)
Some say he's still alive. The story goes that the men ordered to kill the child had pity on him and left him in the forest. (1.1.75)