Book,  Chapter

1        I,  I  |      already softened by the touch of time, appeared as if
2        I,  XIV|   his hands, in order not to touch those trembling hands which
3       II,  VII| little quay. There the boats touch. Friend, let us go up the
4       II,  XI |      oil. Alcide, aiding his touch by his sense of smell, could
5       II,  XIV|     blades crossed, but at a touch from Michael’s knife, wielded