The Wanderer had no time and but little
inclination to blame himself for the part he had played in disclosing to
the principal actor the nature of the scene which had taken place in
the cemetery, and the immediate consequences of that disclosure, though
wholly unexpected, did not seem utterly illogical. Israel Kafka's nature
was eastern, violently passionate and, at the same time, long-suffering
in certain directions as only the fatalist can be. 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.
Unorna's act had brought the several seemingly contradictory elements of
his character to bear upon one point. He had realised in the same moment
that it was impossible for her to love him; that her changing treatment
of him was not the result of caprice but of a fixed plan of her own, in
the execution of which she would spare him neither falsehood nor insult;
that to love such a woman was the lowest degradation; that he could
nevertheless not destroy that love; and, finally, that the only escape
from his shame lay in her destruction, and that this must in all
probability involve his own death also.
Pages:
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307