You possess a very fine organisation. I envy you your
magnificent constitution, my dear friend. I would like to have some of
it, and grow young again."
"On your principle of embalming the living, I suppose."
"Exactly," answered the sage with a deep, rolling laugh. "By the bye,
have you been with our friend Unorna? I suppose that is a legitimate
question, though you always tell me I am tactless."
"Perfectly legitimate, my dear Keyork. Yes, I have just left her. It is
like a breath of spring morning to go there in these days."
"You find it refreshing?"
"Yes. There is something about her that I could describe as soothing, if
I were aware of ever being irritable, which I am not."
Keyork smiled and looked down, trying to dislodge a bit of ice from the
pavement with the point of his stick.
"Soothing--yes. That is just the expression. Not exactly the quality
most young and beautiful women covet, eh? But a good quality in its way,
and at the right time. How is she to-day?"
"She seemed to have a headache--or she was oppressed by the heat.
Nothing serious, I fancy, but I came away, as I fancied I was tiring
her."
"Not likely," observed Keyork. "Do you know Israel Kafka?" he asked
suddenly.
"Israel Kafka," repeated the Wanderer thoughtfully, as though searching
in his memory.
"Then you do not," said Keyork. "You could only have seen him since you
have been here. He is one of Unorna's most interesting patients, and
mine as well.
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