Perspiration soaked his head: he knew his arm was worse: he must have help: in his panic he felt he must contact Jeannette, Uncle Victor, Aunt Therèse, his mother: he did not ask what could come of such a contact: he wanted to hear a familiar voice, wanted to grasp that somebody cared: somebody might know of some way to help! A young nurse bent over him and asked him what he needed: her golden crucifix pointed at the "v" in her throat; her stack of hair was auburn: he knew he had never seen her before: eyeing her intently, his sight now clear, now blurred, he said: "I want you to contact my uncle ... Colonel Victor Ronde ... please write down his name and address." She wrote his name but Orville could not remember his Marseilles address: his mouth was open to tell her the Ermenonville address but he lost consciousness. His fever dropped, increased. Madly, he shuffled through the past, catching at straws: the face of Lena, his mother’s face, his dad’s photo, Jeannette ... his brain kept repeating his home phone number: 964-1904. Friends were rowing on Lake Cayuga ... it was late afternoon but the crew launched their shell ... the coxswain was sore as a boil as the crew made the water foam ... a lone heron winged over the inlet ... he was climbing a waterfall of ice at Watkins Glen ... it was February ... now it was Easter and he was playing tennis ... no ... no, I’ll never play tennis again ... Desperately, he tried to move to relieve the pains in his back: the smell of his own bandages and medication gagged him: he fought to breathe, to swear at Landel ... he wanted to kill him ... "It’s your fault, damn you! You ordered us to advance across that bridge ... your fault ... your fault..." Yes, there had been heavy fog at the bridge, sticky fog, clinging to the periscope, the visors ... pain ... Sister Blanche heard him talking, whispering, swearing when she came on duty. At one a.m. the power came on: they removed his arm: two surgeons, four nurses--and Blanche. By seven o’clock that night they had brought him around, through injections, plasma, medication, renewed dressings, ice packs, kindness. To encourage him, Sister Blanche told him she had telegraphed Jeannette ... his brain latched onto Jean ... Jean ... Ermenonville ... he knew that Blanche was on the right track. To comfort him, Blanche sat by him and told him stories about her nephews and days in Brittany, days on the beach, days at sea, sailing, fishing: her voice became a singsong: he hardly listened and yet he assimilated thoughts, flecks in her life. She watched over Dennison for eighteen hours without much relief: she supervised transfusions, bed changes, dressings, medication, dope, liquids: stretched out on a cot by his bed she caught catnaps.