I began to go more carefully through the drawers, pockets, to see if I could find something. At last I came back to the shelf of books. In irritation I pulled down the whole lot and out of one of the books, an old bound copy of Punch, 1914 (in which various pictures had been ticked in red crayon), spilled a little folded pile of what I thought at first were letters. But they were not. They were pieces of paper used by Lily to scribble on. They had apparently originally been orders. None was dated.

1.The Drowned Italian Airman

We have decided to omit this episode.

2.Norway

We have decided to omit the visits with this episode.

3.Hirondelle

Has arrived. Treat with caution. Still tender.

4.If Subject discovers Earth

Please be sure you know the new procedure for this

eventuality by next weekend. Lily considers the

subject likely to force such a situation on us.

I wondered why they had bothered to keep up the pretense of the false name.

5. Hirondelle

Avoid all mention with the subject.

6. New Phase

Termination by end of July for all except nucleus.

7. State of subject

Maurice considers that the subject has now reached

the malleable stage. Remember that for the subject

any play is now better than no play. Change modes,

intensify withdrawals.

The eighth sheet was a typewritten copy of the Frog verses Lily had recited to me.

Finally, on different paper, a scrawled message: Tell Bo not to forget the unmentionables and the books. Oh and tissues, please.

Each of these nine pieces of paper had writing on the back, obviously (or obviously intended to look like) Lily’s rough drafts.

1. What is it?

If you were told its name

You would not understand.

Why is it?

If you were told its reasons

You would not understand.

Is it?

You are not even sure of that,

Poor footsteps in an empty room.

2. Love is the course of the experiment.

Is to the limit of imagination.

Love is your manhood in my orchards.

The nigger lurks my thin green leaves;

The white bitch wanders all your jungle.

Love is your dark face reading this.

Your dark, your gentle face and hands.

Did Desdemona

This was evidently unfinished.

3.The Choice

Spare him till he dies.

Torment him till he lives.

4. ominus dominus

Nicholas

homullus est

ridiculus

igitur meus

parvus pediculus

multo vult dare

sine morari

in culus illius

ridiculus

Nicholas

colossicus ciculus

5.Mr. von Masoch sat on a pin;

Then sat again, to push it in.

“How exquisite,” cried Plato,

“The idea of a baked potato.”

But exquisiter to some

Is potato in the tum.

“My dear, you must often be frightened,”

Said a friend to Madame de Sade.

“Oh not exactly frightened,

But just a little bit scarred.”

Give me my cardigan,

Let me think hardigan.

This was evidently a game between the sisters; alternate different handwritings.

6.Mystery enough at noon.

The blinding unfrequented paths

Above the too frequented sea

Hold labyrinth and mask enough.

No need to twist beneath the moon

Or multiply the midnight rite.

Here on the rising secret cliff

In this white fury of the light

Is mystery enough at noon.

The last three sheets had a fairy story on them.

THE PRINCE AND THE MAGICIAN

Once upon a time there was a young prince, who believed in all things but three. He did not believe in princesses, he did not believe in islands, he did not believe in God. His father, the king, told him that such things did not exist. As there were no princesses or islands in his father’s domains, and no sign of God, the young prince believed his father.

But then, one day, the prince ran away from his palace. He came to the next land. There, to his astonishment, from every coast he saw islands, and on these islands, strange and troubling creatures whom he dared not name. As he was searching for a boat, a man in full evening dress approached him along the shore.

“Are those real islands?” asked the young prince.

“Of course they are real islands,” said the man in evening dress.

“And those strange and troubling creatures?”

“They are all genuine and authentic princesses.”

“Then God also must exist!” cried the prince.

“I am God,” replied the man in full evening dress, with a bow.

The young prince returned home as quickly as he could.

“So you are back,” said his father, the king.

“I have seen islands, I have seen princesses, I have seen God,” said the prince reproachfully.

The king was unmoved.

“Neither real islands, nor neat princesses, nor a real God, exist.”

“I saw them!”

“Tell me how God was dressed.”

“God was in full evening dress.”

“Were the sleeves of his coat rolled back?”

The prince remembered that they had been. The king smiled.

“That is the uniform of a magician. You have been deceived.”

At this, the prince returned to the next land, and went to the same shore, where once again he came upon the man in full evening dress.

“My father the king has told me who you are,” said the young prince indignantly. “You deceived me last time, but not again. Now I know that those are not real islands and real princesses, because you are a magician.”

The man on the shore smiled.

“It is you who are deceived, my boy. In your father’s kingdom there are many islands and many princesses. But you are under your father’s spell, so you cannot see them.”

The prince returned pensively home. When he saw his father, he looked him in the eyes.

“Father, is it true that you are not a real king, but only a magician?”