‘Why’ said he, ‘is your satin and silk on the tree outside?’ ‘Don't you remember’ (said she) ‘that you told me that your soul was there?’ ‘My soul is not there, but in an egg that is inside a duck that is inside a ram that is in the middle of a beam which is in the cellar below, and I am fated never to be killed until a man is found who will be able to seize yon big crowbar and put it down with one effort, raise it and the beam, and split it with a single blow. The ram will run out, and if seized, the duck will run out of him, and if she is caught, the egg will come out and make for the loch and will become an eel. If it is caught, it will not be possible for me to be killed, until I am struck by it on the mole which is under my left breast.’