What is to be remembered, I suppose I remember; everything else dissolves and vanishes: breath on an icy mirror.

I am alone now. There is no one. A rectangle of moonlight blazes on the floor like a shield&emdash;this is all that's left of my visitor.

Nevertheless, without any real feeling of hope, I call out into the darkness: "Iron Henry?"

His departure is something I feel in my blood, now dry as dust in my veins. Beside the window, a shadow stirs in the darkness, and it is he, slipping away into the night.

"Iron Henry," I whisper, knowing that, for all that he loves me, he will not stop for my sake: "Please."

He hesitates and mutters, "I may not."

"Speak to me more."

"It will soon be dawn," he says, "and the queen will be sighing in her bed."

"That hardly matters, Iron Henry; what little I haven't actually forgotten has become meaningless to me."

His face in the moonlight is dreadfully furrowed and scarred; it looks like a battlefield that has been preserved as a reminder of the cruelty of war.

"You have forgotten nothing," Iron Henry says.

"I've forgotten every word, I swear it."

"I'll not tell it again, that's final."

"It's like an enchantment, Iron Henry: another enchantment, hidden beneath the first. I can't find the end to it."

"The story is held in your soul," he tells me, "and the soul has no need to remember."

He nods, as if egging me on, and I seem to see a summery gleam of yellow in his eyes; until now they have been as cold and black as the ice of a glacier.

"The golden ball," I whisper.

"You see? You haven't forgotten."

I am astonished by my own powers of recollection. "The golden ball!"

He laughs harshly and then stretches out his hands in a trembling, pathetic gesture, as if imploring me to give him something; it's a long moment before I understand what he's trying to show me.

"There was . . . a little girl?"

"A princess, my lord; start there."

"Please," I groan.

"You know the story."

"I can't hold it in my head, Iron Henry, I don't know why. Tell it to me once more, just once more, please."

Iron Henry sighs and says, "You must somehow learn to tell the story to yourself, my boy."

"My God, I swear it's gone, utterly gone!"

"Come, come," he says gently, "it has only been a moment since you yourself recounted what the princess did for you."

"What the princess did for me?"

"Think, my boy&emdash;think of what the princess did for you."

"Help me, Iron Henry!"

"The princess, my boy."

"Someone was with me, Iron Henry, that's all I remember. A young girl . . . I wasn't alone&emdash;is that it?"

"Yes, yes, go on, my boy, go on."

"Wait, I remember something else now. I was lying on the floor. . ."

"And then. . . ?"

"Yes, yes&emdash;I remember this clearly&emdash;I was lying crushed at the foot of a wall!"

"Crushed . . . ?"

"I'd been flung, crushed . . . My God, Iron Henry, I remember now&emdash;it was I, it was I, I myself that was flung!"

"Think now, think carefully and remember: What actually was flung against the wall?"

"What?"

"What thing, what object, was flung against the wall?"

"Against the wall . . ."

"That's right, the princess flung something against the wall."

"Wait&emdash;the princess was . . . angry?"

"The princess was angry and . . . what? Come, come, my boy, this is the whole point of the story."

"I swear I haven't the slightest idea what you're getting at, Iron Henry."

"You never remember this part." His voice grates with bitter exasperation. "You never remember being a frog."

"A frog? What on earth are you talking about?"

"A miserable, stinking, odious little frog, my boy. That's what you were until she finally refused to put up with it any longer. You wanted to be her pathetic and helpless little pet, hopelessly unworthy of her, a creature far, far beneath her, a creature that she was continually obliged to lift up to her level&emdash;to the chair, to the table, to the bed&emdash;a creature that was ultimately just too pitiful and paltry to be the companion of a princess."

"I'm sorry, Iron Henry. I swear to God I don't remember it."

"You wanted to become her pet. You yourself insisted on it. It was what you demanded in exchange for fetching the princess's golden ball from the bottom of the well. Don't you remember? You were asking for a reward."

"Yes, I vaguely remember . . . asking for something."

"Yes. Anything else?"

"Dark. I remember that. The water was like ice. Yes, it comes back to me now."

"You're not far off, my boy; it was a well, a deep, deep well."

"In the end, I have only a very hazy recollection of it. A shaft of emptiness&emdash;yet not empty, full."

"I understand."

"It's very shadowy, I'm afraid."

"Go on."

"What more can I say? It's an emptiness, yet I have an impression of something full. Something full... something else. Wait." I close my eyes for a moment. "That's right, that's it&emdash;something near the castle."

"Very well, something else . . . something nearby?"

"No, that's not it; it's something else. entirely."

"Perhaps this is what you're groping for, my boy: When she became your queen and left her home for yours, the princess left behind all her playthings, including the golden ball&emdash;an object notably full and empty at the same time."

"Good Lord, Iron Henry, you've lost me entirely."

"Didn't you ever wonder what happened to this precious object, this object you went to so much trouble to retrieve?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't."

With difficulty, he suppresses yet another impatient sigh and says, "Well, try this: it was the golden ball that started the whole thing; you must have noticed that."

"For Christ's sake, Iron Henry, give me something simple and concrete to hold on to!"

"Believe me, my boy, I've given you all there is."

"There's still something missing, Iron Henry, something I can't put my finger on. What is it, for the love of God, what is it?"

"It's nothing so important, my boy."

"What is it, Iron Henry&emdash;tell me!"

"Only a sound."

"A sound. . . ? Wait! Wait! Yes, yes&emdash;I can no longer exactly hear it, but I remember it now, I remember it clearly: a terrible sound."

"The cracking of iron bands around my heart&emdash; the bands that kept it from breaking during the long years of your enchantment. It was the end of grief, my lord."

"That's it!" I cry, clapping my hands to my ears in astonished recollection.

"It was after the wedding, and we were riding in the coach."

"Was it after the wedding? Yes, I suppose so, but, for Christ's sake, what exactly were we doing?"

"You remember, my lord: we were returning to the castle. I'd brought the coach to carry you and your bride home. It's all there. You remember it, my lord, don't upset yourself."

"Some terrible sound . . . An end to enchantment . . . An end and a new beginning&emdash;for the love of God, help me, Iron Henry, it's slipping away again! An end to enchantment . . . Some terrible sound . . ."

"You remember it, my lord, don't upset yourself. It's all there. I'd brought the coach to carry you and your bride home. You remember, my lord: we were returning to the castle."

"Yes, I suppose so, but, for Christ's sake, what exactly were we doing? Was it after the wedding?"

"It was after the wedding, and we were riding in the coach.

"That's it!" I cry, clapping my hands to my ears in astonished recollection.

"It was the end of grief, my lord. The cracking of iron bands around my heart&emdash;the bands that kept it from breaking during the long years of your enchantment."

"Yes, yes&emdash;I can no longer exactly hear it, but I remember it now, I remember it clearly: a terrible sound. Wait! Wait! A sound . . . ?"

"Only a sound."

"What is it, Iron Henry&emdash;tell me!"

"It's nothing so important, my boy."

"What is it, for the love of God, what is it? There's still something missing, Iron Henry, something I can't put my finger on."

"Believe me, my boy, I've given you all there is."

"For Christ's sake, Iron Henry, give me something simple and concrete to hold on to!"

With difficulty, he suppresses yet another impatient sigh and says, "Well, try this: it was the golden ball that started the whole thing; you must have noticed that."

"No, I'm afraid I didn't."

"Didn't you ever wonder what happened to this precious object, this object you went to so much trouble to retrieve?"

"Good Lord, Iron Henry, you've lost me entirely."

"Perhaps this is what you're groping for, my boy: When she became your queen and left her home for yours, the princess left behind all her playthings, including the golden ball&emdash;an object notably full and empty at the same time."

"No, that's not it; it's something else entirely."

"Very well, something else . . . something nearby?"

"That's right, that's it&emdash;something near the castle." I close my eyes for a moment. "Wait. Something full . . . something else. It's an emptiness, yet I have an impression of something full. What more can I say?"

"Go on."

"It's very shadowy, I'm afraid."

"I understand."

"A shaft of emptiness &emdash;yet not empty, full. In the end, I have only a very hazy recollection of it."

"You're not far off, my boy; it was a well, a deep, deep well."

"Yes, it comes back to me now. The water was like ice. I remember that. Dark."

"Yes. Anything else?"

"Yes, I vaguely remember . . . asking for something."

"You were asking for a reward. Don't you remember? It was what you demanded in exchange for fetching the princess's golden ball from the bottom of the well. You yourself insisted on it. You wanted to become her pet."

"I swear to God I don't remember it. I'm sorry, Iron Henry."

"You wanted to be her pathetic and helpless little pet, hopelessly unworthy of her, a creature far, far beneath her, a creature that she was continually obliged to lift up to her level&emdash;to the chair, to the table, to the bed&emdash;a creature that was ultimately just too pitiful and paltry to be the companion of a princess. That's what you were until she finally refused to put up with it any longer. A miserable, stinking, odious little frog, my boy."

"What on earth are you talking about? A frog?"

"You never remember being a frog." His voice grates with bitter exasperation. "You never remember this part."

"I swear I haven't the slightest idea what you're getting at, Iron Henry."

"Come, come, my boy, this is the whole point of the story. The princess was angry and . . . what?"

"Wait&emdash;the princess was . . . angry?"

"That's right, the princess flung something against the wall."

"Against the wall. . ."

"What thing, what object, was flung against the wall?"

"What?"

"Think now, think carefully and remember: What actually was flung against the wall?"

"My God, Iron Henry, I remember now&emdash;it was I, it was I, I myself that was flung! I'd been flung, crushed . . ."

"Crushed . . . ?"

"Yes, yes&emdash;I remember this clearly&emdash;I was lying crushed at the foot of a wall!"

"And then. . . ?"

"I was lying on the floor . . .Wait, I remember something else now."

"Yes, yes, go on, my boy, go on."

"I wasn't alone&emdash;is that it? A young girl . . . Someone was with me, Iron Henry, that's all I remember."

"The princess, my boy."

"Help me, Iron Henry!"

"Think, my boy&emdash;think of what the princess did for you."

"What the princess did for me?"

"Come, come," he says gently, "it has only been a moment since you yourself recounted what the princess did for you."

"My God, I swear it's gone, utterly gone!"

Iron Henry sighs and says, "You must somehow learn to tell the story to yourself, my boy."

"Tell it to me once more, just once more, please. I can't hold it in my head, Iron Henry, I don't know why."

"You know the story."

"Please," I groan.

"A princess, my lord; start there."

"There was . . . a little girl?"

He laughs harshly and then stretches out his hands in a trembling, pathetic gesture, as if imploring me to give him something; it's a long moment before I understand what he's trying to show me.

"The golden ball!" I am astonished by my own powers of recollection.

"You haven't forgotten. You see?"

"The golden ball," I whisper.

He nods, as if egging me on, and I seem to see a summery gleam of yellow in his eyes; until now they have been as cold and black as the ice of a glacier.

"The story is held in your soul," he tells me, "and the soul has no need to remember."

"I can't find the end to it. It's like an enchantment, Iron Henry: another enchantment, hidden beneath the first."

"I'll not tell it again, that's final."

"I've forgotten every word, I swear it."

"You have forgotten nothing," Iron Henry says.

His face in the moonlight is dreadfully furrowed and scarred; it looks like a battlefield that has been preserved as a reminder of the cruelty of war.

"That hardly matters, Iron Henry; what little I haven't actually forgotten has become meaningless to me. '

"It will soon be dawn," he says, "and the queen will be sighing in her bed."

"Speak to me more."

He hesitates and mutters, "I may not."

"Iron Henry," I whisper, knowing that, for all that he loves me, he will not stop for my sake: "Please."

Beside the window, a shadow stirs in the darkness, and it is he, slipping away into the night. His departure is something I feel in my blood, now dry as dust in my veins.

Nevertheless, without any real feeling of hope, I call out into the darkness "Iron Henry?"

A rectangle of moonlight blazes on the floor like a shield--this is all that's left of my visitor. There is no one. I am alone now.

What is to be remembered, I suppose I can remember; everything else dissolves and vanishes: breath on an icy mirror.

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