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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Israel Kafka," repeated the Wanderer thoughtfully, as though searching in his memory. "Then you do not," said Keyork. "You could only have seen him since you have been here. He is one of Unorna's most interesting patients, and mine as well. He is a little odd." Keyork tapped his ivory forehead significantly with one finger. "Mad," suggested the Wanderer. "Mad, if you prefer the term.
His whole manner changed and he came forward with his usual, almost jaunty step. "And now that you are quite harmless, my dear friend," he said, addressing Israel Kafka, "I hope to make you see the folly of your ways. I suppose you know that you are quite mad and that the proper place for you is a lunatic asylum." The Wanderer laid his hand heavily upon Keyork's shoulder.
Israel Kafka has lost his head completely. He has sworn to kill Unorna, and is at the present moment confined in the conservatory in her house." The effect of the announcement upon Keyork was so extraordinary that the Wanderer started, not being prepared for any manifestation of what seemed to be the deepest emotion.
"That is true!" exclaimed Unorna with an anxious glance. "Well? What have you done?" "I met the Wanderer in the street. What could I do? I told him that Israel Kafka was a little mad, and that his harmless delusions referred to a journey he was supposed to have made with me, and to an equally imaginary passion which he fancies he feels for you." "That was wise," said Unorna, still pale.
Possibly, too, she felt a dim presentiment of her coming end, and would take with her that infinitesimal grain of pardon to the state in which she hoped for no other forgiveness. "It was good of you to say it," she said at last. A long silence followed during which the thoughts of each went their own way. Suddenly Israel Kafka stirred in his sleep.
Your charming conversation had almost made me forget the object of our visit!" He went back and took the various things he needed. Then the three men went out together. More than an hour had elapsed since the Wanderer and Unorna had finally turned the key upon Israel Kafka, leaving him to his own reflections.
She knew the Wanderer's footstep, but she neither moved her body nor turned her head. She felt that she grew paler than before, and she could hear her heart beating strongly. "I come from Israel Kafka," said the Wanderer, standing still before her. She knew from his tone how hard his face must be, and she would not look up. "What of him?" she asked in a voice without expression. "Is he well?"
"Your word is my law," said Kafka, drawing back. His eyes were bright and his thin cheek was flushed. It was long since she had spoken so kindly to him. A ray of hope entered his life. The Wanderer saw the look and interpreted it rightly. He understood that in that brief moment Unorna had found time to do some mischief.
Wake in two hours of yourself, without pain or sickness." Again she touched his forehead and then sprang to her feet. Keyork was coming back with his dumb servant. At a sign, the Individual lifted Kafka from the floor, taking from him the Wanderer's furs and wrapping him in others which Keyork had brought. The strong man walked away with his burden as though he were carrying a child.
No one could tell what might happen before morning. "It just occurs to me," said Keyork, fixing his keen eyes on his companion's face, "that you have told me absolutely nothing, except that Kafka is mad and that Unorna is safe." "Those are the most important points," observed the Wanderer. "Precisely. But I am sure that you will not think me indiscreet if I wish to know a little more.
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