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Updated: June 11, 2025
Love is indeed often the inspirer of subjective visions, creating in the beloved object the qualities it admires and the virtues it adores, powerless to accept what it is not willing to see, dwelling in a fortress guarded by intangible, and therefore indestructible, fiction and proof against the artillery of facts. Unorna's confidence was, however, not misplaced.
He would have suffered anything at Unorna's hands, and without complaint, even to bodily death, but his wrath rose furiously at the thought that she had been playing with what he held most sacred, that she had forced from his lips the denial of the faith of his people and the confession of the Christian belief, perhaps the very words of the hated Creed.
Unorna came close to him and laid her hand upon his head. "Sleep, until I wake you," she said. The eyelids drooped and closed at her command, and instantly the man's breathing became heavy and regular. Unorna's full lips curled as she looked down at him. "And you would be my master!" she exclaimed. Then she turned and disappeared among the plants, leaving him alone.
Nevertheless, she might be mistaken. It would be necessary to seek her acquaintance by some excuse and endeavour to draw from her some portion of her story, enough to confirm Unorna's suspicions, or to prove conclusively that they were unfounded. To do this, Unorna herself needed all her strength and coolness, and she was glad when a lay sister entered the room bringing her evening meal.
Unorna's act had brought the several seemingly contradictory elements of his character to bear upon one point.
It was very hard to bear. A better woman than Unorna might have felt something evil and cruel and hating in her heart, at the sight of so much beauty in one who held her place, in the queen of the kingdom where she longed to reign. Unorna's cheek grew very pale, and her unlike eyes were fierce and dangerous.
She glanced at his face, but he showed no surprise. "You have seen him this afternoon, of course," he remarked. And odd smile passed over Unorna's face. "Yes. I have seen him this afternoon. He is a friend of mine, and of yours do you understand?" "He is the wisest of men," said the Wanderer. "And also the maddest," he added thoughtfully.
Though his voice was almost as soft as before, the evil smile flickered again about his drawn lips as he looked into Unorna's face. He wondered why she did not face him and crush him and force him to sleep with her eyes as he knew she could do. But he himself was past fear. He had suffered too much and cared not what chanced to him now.
You see now. You understand now. I have opened your eyes a little. Why did he hesitate, and suffer? Because you asked that to which he knew there was no answer. And you tortured him with your will until his individuality fell into yours, and spoke your words." Unorna's head sank a little and she covered her eyes.
Scarce a hundred paces from Unorna's door he met the Wanderer. He looked up into the cold, calm face, and put out his hand, with a greeting. "You look as though you were in a very peaceful frame of mind," observed Keyork. "Why should I be anything but peaceful?" asked the other, "I have nothing to disturb me." "True, true. You possess a very fine organisation.
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