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Updated: June 11, 2025
He was revolving schemes for Unorna's safety, and half amazed to find himself forced in common humanity to take her part. "I shall free myself of my shame in loving her, at the price of her blood and mine. Will you go?" "And what is to prevent me from delivering you over to safe keeping before you do this deed?" "You have no witness," answered Kafka with a smile.
If Keyork Arabian inclined to the psychic rather than to the physical school in his view of Unorna's witchcraft and in his study of hypnotism in general, his opinion resulted naturally from his great knowledge of mankind, and of the unacknowledged, often unsuspected, convictions which in reality direct mankind's activity.
"Then," observed the Wanderer, "the advantage of Unorna's life must be an enormous one to you, to judge by your satisfaction at her safety." Keyork stared at him a moment and then laughed, but less heartily and loudly than usual his companion fancied. "Very good!" he exclaimed. "Excellent! I fell into the trap like a rat into a basin of water.
She hardly knew when Beatrice ceased speaking, for the words were still all ringing in her ears, and clashing madly in her own breast, and prompting her fierce nature to do some violent deed. But Beatrice looked for no sympathy and did not see Unorna's face. She had forgotten Unorna herself at the last, as she sat staring at the opposite wall.
"My father died last week," Beatrice said in a very low tone, that was not quite steady. "I am quite alone here and in the world." She laid her hand upon the latch and her deep black eyes rested upon Unorna's, as though almost, but not quite, conveying an invitation, hungry for human comfort, yet too proud to ask it. "I am very lonely, too," said Unorna. "May I sit with you for a while?"
But Beatrice was not like the old beggar who in his hundredth year had leaned against Unorna's door, unnoticed and uncared for, and had been taken in and had never been seen again. The case was different.
He could have loved for a lifetime faithfully, without requital; he would have suffered in patience Unorna's anger, scorn, pity or caprice; he had long before now resigned his free will into the keeping of a passion which was degrading as it enslaved all his thoughts and actions, but which had something noble in it, inasmuch as it fitted him for the most heroic self-sacrifice.
Sister Paul, alone of them all, was looking up, her faded eyes fixed on Unorna's with a look that implored and yet despaired, her clasped hands a little raised from the low desk before her, most evidently offering up the words with the whole fervent intention of her pure soul, as an intercession for Unorna's sins.
Men and women of deep and strong feedings, outwardly cold, reserved, taciturn and proud, have been known, once in their lives, to pour out the secrets of their hearts to a stranger or a mere acquaintance, as they could never have done to a friend. Beatrice seemed scarcely conscious of what she was saying, or of Unorna's presence.
Even before to-day's sun had set Beatrice might be once more taken from him, snatched away to the ends of the earth by her father's ever-changing caprice. To lose a moment now might be to lose all. He was tempted to yield, to resign his will into Unorna's hands, and his sight to her leading, to let her bid him sleep and see the truth.
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