Unorna had risen to her
feet, disdaining to defend herself against the imputation expressed in
his face. Some minutes passed in silence.
"He has no fever," said Keyork looking at the little instrument. "I will
call the Individual and we will take him away."
"Where?"
"To his lodging, of course. Where else?" He turned and went towards the
door.
In a moment, Unorna was kneeling again by Kafka's side, her hand upon
his forehead, her lips close to his ear.
"This is the last time that I will use my power on you or upon any one,"
she said quickly, for the time was short. "Obey me, as you must. Do you
understand me? Will you obey?"
"Yes," came the faint answer as from very far off.
"You will wake two hours from now. You will not forget all that has
happened, but you will never love me again. I forbid you ever to love me
again! Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"You will only forget that I have told you this, though you will obey.
You will see me again, and if you can forgive me of your own free will,
forgive me then. That must be of your own free will. Wake in two hours
of yourself, without pain or sickness."
Again she touched his forehead and then sprang to her feet. Keyork was
coming back with his dumb servant. At a sign, the Individual lifted
Kafka from the floor, taking from him the Wanderer's furs and wrapping
him in others which Keyork had brought. The strong man walked away with
his burden as though he were carrying a child.
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