"I wonder whom
you have found who is able to look you in the face without losing
himself. I suppose it can hardly be my fascinating self whom you wish to
enthrall," he added, conscious after a moment's trial that he was proof
against her influence.
"Hardly," answered Unorna, with a bitter laugh.
"If I were the happy man you would not need that means of bringing me to
your feet. It is a pity that you do not want me. We should make a very
happy couple. But there is much against me. I am an old man, Unorna. My
figure was never of divine proportions, and as for my face, Nature made
it against her will. I know all that--and yet, I was young once, and
eloquent. I could make love then--I believe that I could still if it
would amuse you."
"Try it," said Unorna, who, like most people, could not long be angry
with the gnome-like little sage.
CHAPTER VI
"I could make love--yes, and since you tell me to try, I will."
He came and stood before her, straightening his diminutive figure in a
comical fashion as though he were imitating a soldier on parade.
"In the first place," he said, "in order to appreciate my skill, you
should realise the immense disadvantages under which I labour. I am a
dwarf, my dear Unorna. In the presence of that kingly wreck of a Homeric
man"--he pointed to the sleeper beside them--"I am a Thersites, if not
a pigmy. To have much chance of success I should ask you to close your
eyes, and to imagine that my stature matches my voice.
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