It is the first of May 1757: the real, first hot day of spring after a winter marked by the plague, which decimated the village. -There is nothing more sinful than an unmarried woman living among the beasts- these are the words of the shepherd on the milkmaids, which echo in the ears of all... Like a witch hunt. And you, alas, are the new milkmaid: you are knocking on the door of Thomas Browne, recently widowed