For the better probing of the wound they removed his head and gave it to me to hold.

Seeing that it was Solon Denney's head, I was seized with a mood of jest--I would hide it and make Solon search.
I advanced craftily down an endless corridor, but came to the edge of a wood, where there was a wicked spitting of shots.

I cried out again, and once more they gave me the drug.

Then I dreamed more quietly.

I saw that the soul of my dead arm searched for her soul--that it would soon be drawn to her and offer itself to comfort her and never, never leave her.
It would say, "At least take the arm, since you may have it without the face." It seemed that my other arm should go to her, too.