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Updated: May 14, 2025
The truth of what he said flashed upon her suddenly and unexpectedly, bringing with it the doubt which had left her at the moment when the sleeper had spoken. She could not hide her discomfiture and Keyork Arabian saw his advantage. "And for what?" he asked, beginning to pace the broad room. "To know whether a man will love you or not! You seem to have forgotten what you are.
"I never shivered with cold and felt my hair rise upon my head at the sight of any living thing," said Unorna dreamily, and still shading her eyes with her hand. "But might you not feel that if you chanced to see some one whom you particularly disliked?" asked Keyork, with a gentle laugh. "Disliked?" repeated Unorna in a harsh voice. She changed her position and looked at him.
The idea you pursue is not an idea at all, but that specimen of the genus homo known as 'woman, species 'lady, variety 'true love, vulgar designation 'sweetheart." The Wanderer stared coldly at his companion. "The vulgarity of the designation is indeed only equalled by that of your taste in selecting it," he said slowly. Then he turned away, intending to leave Keyork standing where he was.
Keyork got out with him and stood upon the pavement while the porter took the slender luggage into the house. He smiled as he glanced at the leathern portmanteau which was supposed to have made such a long journey while it had in reality lain a whole month in a corner of Keyork's great room behind a group of specimens.
Imagine a city with a liver of brick and mortar, or stone and cement, a huge mass of masonry buried in its centre, like an enormous fetish, exercising a mysterious influence over the city's health then you may imagine a city as suffering from melancholy." "How absurd!" "My dear boy, I rarely say absurd things," answered Keyork imperturbably. "Besides, as a matter of fact, there is nothing absurd.
"May I ask of what general nature your questions were?" inquired the other, more interested than he had hitherto been in the conversation. "They referred to the principles of embalmment." "Much has been written about that since the days of the Egyptians." "The Egyptians!" exclaimed Keyork with great scorn. "They embalmed their dead after a fashion. Did you ever hear that they embalmed the living?"
But Keyork and Unorna understood their art and knew how much more easy it is to produce a fiction of continuity where an element of confusion is introduced by the multitude and variety of the quickly succeeding impressions and almost destitute of incident. One occurrence, indeed, he remembered with extraordinary distinctness, and could have affirmed under oath in all its details.
He remembered what he had heard but a few hours earlier from Keyork concerning the young fellow's madness. The situation now partially explained itself. "I understand," he said, looking at Unorna. "He seems to be dangerous. What shall I do with him?" He asked the question as calmly as though it had referred to the disposal of an inanimate object, instead of to the taking into custody of a madman.
"Twenty if you ask them, and if I know the answers," said Keyork, wondering what form the question would take, and preparing to meet a surprise with indifference. "But will you answer me truly?" "My dear lady, I pledge you my sacred word of honour," Keyork answered with immense gravity, meeting her eyes and laying his hand upon his heart. "Does she love that man or not?"
And yet, indolent and indifferent as he had grown of late, he was conscious of a vague curiosity in regard to her story. Keyork either really knew nothing, or pretended to know nothing of her origin. "I see that you are alone," said the Wanderer. "Have you always been so?" "Always. I have had an odd life. You could not understand it, if I told you of it."
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