She said nothing as they climbed the steps; Orville wanted to say a few words; he tried to re-see something he and Lena had done, so he could mention it to his aunt; it was almost as if he had never known Lena. Instead of visualizing or evoking her he recalled his last military involvement, the stress of the trip to visit Ermenonville; as they reached the top step, Orville said: "I heard from Mother, a while ago." "Ah," his aunt responded. "She’s all right," he said. Words were automatic--out of the past. Mme. Ronde wondered what it was Orville had said. Lena’s door was open: the doctor was talking to the young priest whose cropped head seemed more skull than anything alive. Mme. Ronde found her way to Lena’s bed ... Orville found his way downstairs, rejoining Jeannette, saying over and over, I must go, I must remember to take a bath and scrub ... I must say ... I must tell Jean ... I must ... must say ... She kissed him and said quietly: "I’m going to the hospital." "Yes?" "I’m on duty, worried about a fellow there. Meet me early at the hospital, in the entry, say about eight o’clock? ... Okay? but if things don’t work out call me ... no, no, you can’t, the phone’s out of order." "The hospital ... at eight? I’ll be there ... now, I have to take ... but how are you getting back? Let Claude drive you there." "I have my raincoat and umbrella. It’s not far, you know." "Not in this rain!" "Then I’ll ask Claude." He helped her into her raincoat; Claude came; at the door her red head disappeared under his black umbrella; then Orville let the window drapes fall into place. Have to go upstairs ... rest ... sit on my bed ... take off these clothes ... rest ... In his room he closed the door, sensing that the latch slid into place. He was alone!! Sitting on his bed he noticed the guns in their oak rack, the tackle, the reel, the bass above his bed; he thought he had seen them for the last time. Dragging off his shoes, he attempted to figure out what day it was: Wednesday? Friday? It didn’t matter. His socks on the floor, he thought of stretching out as he was: his head was mumbling about fishing gear: his eyes returned to the poles: beads of light twinkled on ferrules and reels. The transparent cover had fallen off one of the reels. In the bathroom he kicked his clothes into a corner and listened to the water rushing into the tub, amazed by the jet: water, ordinary, hot water, wonderful water, swishing water. He tossed a washcloth over the side of the tub and watched it float before it became waterlogged. So, the heater was okay.