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Updated: May 26, 2025
Was not Keyork enlisted on her side, ready to help her at all times, by word or deed, in accordance with the terms of their agreement? But of all men Kafka, whom she had so wronged, was the one man who should have been ignorant of her defeat and miserable shame. "Go!" she cried, with a gesture of command. Her eyes flashed and her extended hand trembled.
Or, possibly, he had an object to gain in exaggerating his thankfulness to Unorna's preserver. He knew that Keyork rarely did anything without an object, and that, although he was occasionally very odd and excitable, he was always in reality perfectly well aware of what he was doing. He was roused from his speculations by Keyork's voice. "There will be no difficulty in securing Kafka," he said.
Her carriage drove on, and left the two men free to enter the one intended for them. Kafka gave the driver the address of his lodgings. Then he sank back into the corner, exhausted and conscious of his extreme weakness. A short silence followed. "You are in need of rest," said the Wanderer, watching him curiously. "Indeed, I am very tired, if not actually ill."
Keyork's precautions were in reality useless and they merely illustrate the ruthlessly selfish character of the man. The Wanderer would in all probability neither have attempted to leave the house with Kafka that night, nor to communicate with the servants, even if he had been left free to do either, and if no one had disturbed him in his watch.
The Wanderer's eyes obeyed the guiding gesture, and he looked from one to the other, and again the belief crossed his thoughts that there was less of madness about Israel Kafka than Keyork would have had him think. Trying to read the truth from Unorna's eyes, he saw that they avoided his, and he fancied he detected symptoms of distress in her pallor and contracted lips.
You must give us such a tale of woe as shall draw tears from our eyes and sobs from our breasts then we will applaud you and let you go. That shall be your reward." The Wanderer glanced at her in surprise. There was a bitterness in her tone of which he had not believed her soft voice capable. "Why do you hate him so if he is mad?" he asked. "The reason is not far to seek," said Kafka.
Unorna started slightly and turned as though about to make a sharp answer. But she checked herself, for the Wanderer was looking at her. She spoke to him instead of answering Kafka. "It is the best arrangement do you not think so?" she asked. "Quite the best." "I shall be gratified if you will bring me word of him," she said, glancing at Kafka. The Wanderer was silent as though he had not heard.
Last of all the Individual, who had divested himself of his outer coat and whose powerful proportions did not escape Israel Kafka's observation. It was clear that if there were a struggle it could have but one issue. Kafka would be overpowered. His knowledge of the disposition of the plants and trees offered him a hope of escape.
With her he had tried the great experiment and pushed it to the very end; and when he conducted Israel Kafka to his home, he already knew that the experiment had succeeded. His plan was a simple one. He would wait a few months longer for the final result, he would select his victim, and with Unorna's help he would himself grow young again.
In such a place, without so much as the commonest restorative to aid him, the Wanderer saw that he had but little chance of success. Unorna stood aside, not looking at the two men. It was nothing to her whether Kafka lived or died. She was suffering herself, more than she had ever suffered in her life. He had said that she was not a woman she whose whole woman's nature worshiped him.
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