"That all sounds very sweet," the countess said, "but it is I who musts drink this cup of grief, and bitter it is for one orphaned so long and a widow with neither husband nor lord. Just when I thought my misfortune were over, I see my woes increase and can truly say that I have only this poor son to remind me of his father.
Then she grabbed the little boy's hair, pulled it, and slapped his face, saying: "My son, weep for your father's departure and keep your grieving mother company."
The infant, who was only three months old, began to cry...
--Joanot Martorell and Marti Joan de Galba,
Tirant Lo Blanc 4 (Rosenthal Trans., 1984)