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Updated: June 1, 2025
And as you have served me, so must I serve you." Manuel said, "That is well" "It is not so well as you think, for when you have this Niafer I shall return to you in the appearance of a light formless cloud, and I shall rise about you, not suddenly but a little by a little.
Dom Manuel said, "I demand that Niafer who was a slave girl, and is now a ghost in her pagan paradise." "Do you think, then, that to recall the dead is possible?" "You are cunning, sir, but I remember what Freydis told me. Will you swear that Misery cannot bring back the dead?" "Very willingly I will swear to it, upon all the most authentic relics in Christendom."
"You must remember the price you paid to win back Dame Niafer from paradise. As truth, and not the almanac, must estimate these things you are now nearer fifty-six." "Well," Manuel said, stoutly, "I do not regret it, and for Niafer's sake I am willing to become a hundred and six. But certainly it is hard to think of myself as an old fellow on the brink of the scrap-pile."
"Our case is none the better for that," replied Freydis, the wise Queen, whose gazing rested not upon Niafer but on Manuel. "Who are those disreputable looking, bold-faced creatures that are making eyes at you?" says Niafer.
He cast down the flageolet, and touched the breast of the image with the ancient formal gestures of the old Tuyla mystery, and he sealed the mouth of the image with a kiss, so that the spirit of Niafer was imprisoned in the image which Manuel had made. Under his lips the lips which had been Misery's cried, "I love."
When the kindly great-browed warders asked her what it was she was seeking, the troubled spirit could not tell them, for Niafer had tasted Lethe, and had forgotten Dom Manuel. Only her love for him had not been forgotten, because that love had become a part of her, and so lived on as a blind longing and as a desire which did not know its aim.
Now the tale tells that all this while, near the gray hut in Dun Vlechlan, the earthen image of Niafer lay drying out in the November sun; and that gray Dom Manuel no longer the florid boy who had come into Dun Vlechlan, sat at the feet of the image, and played upon a flageolet the air which Suskind had taught him, and with which he had been used to call young Suskind from her twilit places when Manuel was a peasant tending swine.
Not for worlds would I be left alone with her. No, such fine and terrific ladies are not for swineherds, and it is another sort of wife that I desire." "Whom then do you desire for a wife," says Niafer, "if not the loveliest and the wealthiest lady in all Rathgor and Lower Targamon?"
For there had never been anybody like Niafer, and it would be nonsense to say otherwise. It is possible that Dom Manuel believed this.
"All persons voice some regret or another at meeting me. And it does not ever matter." "But if there were no choosing in the affair, I could make shift to endure it, either way. Now one of us, you tell me, must depart with you. If I say, 'Let Niafer be that one, I must always recall that saying with self-loathing." "But I too say it!" Niafer was petting him and trembling.
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