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Now
I
know
,
my
reader
,
that
the
foregoing
seems
all
a
farrago
.
I
agree
with
you
.
It
is
farrago
.
It
was
experience
,
however
.
It
was
just
as
real
to
me
as
is
the
snake
beheld
by
a
man
in
delirium
tremens
.
Possibly
,
by
the
most
liberal
estimate
,
it
may
have
taken
Ed
Morrell
two
minutes
to
tap
his
question
.
Yet
,
to
me
,
æons
elapsed
between
the
first
tap
of
his
knuckle
and
the
last
.
No
longer
could
I
tread
my
starry
path
with
that
ineffable
pristine
joy
,
for
my
way
was
beset
with
dread
of
the
inevitable
summons
that
would
rip
and
tear
me
as
it
jerked
me
back
to
my
strait-jacket
hell
.
Thus
my
æons
of
star-wandering
were
æons
of
dread
.
And
all
the
time
I
knew
it
was
Ed
Morrell
's
knuckle
that
thus
cruelly
held
me
earth-bound
.
I
tried
to
speak
to
him
,
to
ask
him
to
cease
.
But
so
thoroughly
had
I
eliminated
my
body
from
my
consciousness
that
I
was
unable
to
resurrect
it
.
My
body
lay
dead
in
the
jacket
,
though
I
still
inhabited
the
skull
.
In
vain
I
strove
to
will
my
foot
to
tap
my
message
to
Morrell
.
I
reasoned
I
had
a
foot
.
And
yet
,
so
thoroughly
had
I
carried
out
the
experiment
,
I
had
no
foot
.
Next
--
and
I
know
now
that
it
was
because
Morrell
had
spelled
his
message
quite
out
--
I
pursued
my
way
among
the
stars
and
was
not
called
back
.
After
that
,
and
in
the
course
of
it
,
I
was
aware
,
drowsily
,
that
I
was
falling
asleep
,
and
that
it
was
delicious
sleep
.
From
time
to
time
,
drowsily
,
I
stirred
--
please
,
my
reader
,
do
n't
miss
that
verb
--
I
STIRRED
.
I
moved
my
legs
,
my
arms
.
I
was
aware
of
clean
,
soft
bed
linen
against
my
skin
.
I
was
aware
of
bodily
well-being
.
Oh
,
it
was
delicious
!
As
thirsting
men
on
the
desert
dream
of
splashing
fountains
and
flowing
wells
,
so
dreamed
I
of
easement
from
the
constriction
of
the
jacket
,
of
cleanliness
in
the
place
of
filth
,
of
smooth
velvety
skin
of
health
in
place
of
my
poor
parchment-crinkled
hide
.
But
I
dreamed
with
a
difference
,
as
you
shall
see
.
I
awoke
.
Oh
,
broad
and
wide
awake
I
was
,
although
I
did
not
open
my
eyes
.
And
please
know
that
in
all
that
follows
I
knew
no
surprise
whatever
.
Everything
was
the
natural
and
the
expected
.
I
was
I
,
be
sure
of
that
.
But
I
was
not
Darrell
Standing
.
Darrell
Standing
had
no
more
to
do
with
the
being
I
was
than
did
Darrell
Standing
's
parchment-crinkled
skin
have
aught
to
do
with
the
cool
,
soft
skin
that
was
mine
.
Nor
was
I
aware
of
any
Darrell
Standing
--
as
I
could
not
well
be
,
considering
that
Darrell
Standing
was
as
yet
unborn
and
would
not
be
born
for
centuries
.
But
you
shall
see
.
I
lay
with
closed
eyes
,
lazily
listening
.
From
without
came
the
clacking
of
many
hoofs
moving
orderly
on
stone
flags
.
From
the
accompanying
jingle
of
metal
bits
of
man-harness
and
steed-harness
I
knew
some
cavalcade
was
passing
by
on
the
street
beneath
my
windows
.
Also
,
I
wondered
idly
who
it
was
.
From
somewhere
--
and
I
knew
where
,
for
I
knew
it
was
from
the
inn
yard
--
came
the
ring
and
stamp
of
hoofs
and
an
impatient
neigh
that
I
recognized
as
belonging
to
my
waiting
horse
.
Came
steps
and
movements
--
steps
openly
advertised
as
suppressed
with
the
intent
of
silence
and
that
yet
were
deliberately
noisy
with
the
secret
intent
of
rousing
me
if
I
still
slept
.
I
smiled
inwardly
at
the
rascal
's
trick
.
"
Pons
,
"
I
ordered
,
without
opening
my
eyes
,
"
water
,
cold
water
,
quick
,
a
deluge
.
I
drank
over
long
last
night
,
and
now
my
gullet
scorches
.
"
