Then Regan controlled himself and tried to imagine what he should do; he could think of nothing, nothing, unless he imprisoned them once more.
A footstep was heard beside him. It was Isabella.
“Oh! my sister, see them! They are here! I cannot save them! They will not go! What shall I do? The worst of all is they have the idea that I can save them!”
Regan was utterly confounded, hopeless.
“Thank God they live!” cried Isabella. “They are not dead!”
“I wish they were! Look at the heads!”
“All mixed up!” said Isabella, with a philosophical acceptance of the inevitable. “Regan, we will encase them in the pods and the heads will graft themselves to their proper places!”
So this was what they did. They corrected the misappropriation of heads, set them on the necks and sewed the ten bird men securely into ten empty pods.
“They will emerge at blossoming time with their troubles ended! I hope you will not experiment again!”
Regan said nothing. She had not seen the vision; she did not mention it. He left his sister and went to ponder upon his eventful day.