The voice of the shell.

Right. The voice of the shell. And the troll crept round and stood before the frowning mouth and said in a voice that almost quivered, What can I do for you? And the voice said, You must find a stone shaped like a coin. Any stone? the troll asked. So long as it’s shaped like a coin, the voice said.

It could be shaped like a crown or a reichsmark.

Yes, that’s right. And the troll searched along the line where the waves touched the sand, and he examined several stones, comparing their roundness in his palm, and when he had decided on one returned to the shell and here we are at our gate. We can finish tonight before bed.

No. Please. Can’t we walk around the block and finish?

Is that what you want?

Yes.

So. The troll spoke to the voice of the shell and said, Will this do? And the voice said, I don’t know, I can’t see it but I presume it will. What shall I do with it? said the troll, and the voice said, Put it in the slot of the shell, and the troll said, Like dropping a coin in a telephone? And the voice said, Yes, which was all very strange as neither the shell nor the troll had ever seen a telephone much less been inside a telephone box, but all the same the troll placed the coin into the mouth of the shell like an expert.

The stone.

I’m sorry?

He placed the stone in the shell. It wasn’t a coin.

Yes. Right. He placed the stone into the shell.

They passed Mrs. Zigismundova in the window of her vegetable stand and said good day as she smiled and nodded and made way for a lady with a pram as Trn doffed his hat and Aleks said, And what came next?

That is exactly the troll’s question because he stood there expecting great occurrences and not a thing happened. Nothing. And the troll waited, being an excessively patient troll, and he scratched his backside, which had begun to itch because of the heat of the sun, and he scratched his head, which had begun to itch because of the heat of his mind, and he scratched in his beard because beards always itch, and then whether because three scratches was the magic number or because the time had finally arrived, some things began to occur. The shell trembled in the sand as if a world inside were quaking, and then an alabaster smoke began to pour forth from its mouth, and a voice, not the same high little voice of before but a great deep voice from the very bottom of the shell said, Habemus Papamus! and the smoke overcame the troll’s eyes, and while he was coughing and waving his hands a sea breeze full of salt blew up and tore the smoke away, and there stood the most beautiful princess the troll had ever seen, not a squat plump troll princess but a true human princess in a beautiful blue gown down to the sand with a gold necklace and golden hair, and immediately she hugged him to her so tight he had difficulty gathering breath until he felt himself falling marvelously down to sleep and in his last waking moment he had just time to think, She loves even trolls, and when his eyes blinked him awake again he was beneath his very own toadstool like that one there, and that’s perfect because here we are at home again too.