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Updated: May 14, 2025
Keyork, who never could have enough light, busied himself with another lamp. The room was now brighter than it generally was in the daytime. Unorna watched him. She did not want to make confidences to him, and yet she felt irresistibly impelled to do so. He was a strange compound of wisdom and levity, in her opinion, and his light-hearted moods were those which she most resented.
He inclined his head a little, as though to admit that her plea of madness might not be wholly imaginary; but he said nothing. He sat looking at Israel Kafka's sleeping face and outstretched form, inwardly wondering whether the hours would seem very long before Keyork Arabian returned in the morning and put an end to the situation. Unorna waited in vain for some response, and at last spoke again.
"I cannot imagine why you should object to doing the same for the other." "The other?" Unorna repeated in surprise. "Our friend there, in the arm chair." "It is not true. He fell asleep of himself." Keyork smiled again, incredulously this time. He had already applied his pocket-thermometer and looked at his watch.
The Wanderer saw him first and called to him. "Keyork come here!" he said. "Who is this man?" For a moment Keyork seemed speechless with amazement. But it was anger that choked his words. Then he came on quickly. "Who waked him?" he cried in fury. "What is this? Why is he here?" "Unorna waked me," answered the ancient sleeper very calmly. "Unorna? Again? The curse of The Three Black Angels on her!
She had spoken the truth when she had told Keyork that she would be loved for herself, or not at all, and that she would use neither her secret arts nor her rare gifts to manufacture a semblance when she longed for a reality. Almost daily she saw him.
Oh, my Experiment, my great Experiment! All lost " "What is this madness?" asked the Wanderer. "You cannot carry him, and he will not go. Let him alone." "Madness?" yelled Keyork, turning on him. "You are the madman, you the fool, who cannot understand! Help me to move him you are strong and young together we can take him back he may yet sleep and live he must and shall! I say it!
"How can you be so cruel as to suggest such a horrible possibility?" cried the gnome with a shudder, either real or extremely well feigned. "You are betraying yourself, Keyork. You must control your feelings better, or I shall find out the truth about you." He glanced keenly at her, and was silent for a while.
Few, if any of them, had even the power necessary to hypnotise an ordinarily strong man in health. She, on the contrary, had never failed in that, and at the first trial, except with Keyork Arabian, a man of whom she said in her heart, half in jest and half superstitiously, that he was not a man at all, but a devil or a monster over whom earthly influences had no control. All her energy returned.
"So you are a fatalist, Unorna," observed her companion, still stroking and twisting his beard. "It is strange that we should differ upon so many fundamental questions, you and I, and yet be such good friends. Is it not?" "The strangest thing of all is that I should submit to your exasperating ways as I do." "It does not strike me that it is I who am quarrelling this time," said Keyork.
"If you knew anything," answered Keyork, with twinkling eyes, "you would know that a theory is not a demonstration, but an explanation. But, by the hypothesis, since you are not I, you can know nothing certainly.
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