Him to know, in His indifference, what they are saying. And the language
my phantom spoke, although foreign to me, was nevertheless an integral
part of my thought--another of the manifestations with which God naively
astounds Himself. It is His only diversion.

"I was curious concerning the effect upon my senses of this illusory
attack. And, I must confess these things simply, there came to me the
idea that Mallare might be slain by the cowardice of his senses. There
would be nothing illogical in that. For if this chimera had been able to
trick them into the illusion of love, it was entirely natural that it
should be able to trick them now into the illusion of death. With the
exception that death is an illusion even Mallare, the indifferent one,
might not survive.

"Ah, Mallare, Mallare! He wanders pensively amid treacherous
shadows--Mallare--an image debating subtly the existence of its mirror.
I sigh. But it is one of the relaxations of God--to pity Himself His
uselessness.

"Her talk came to an end and she raised her knife. Die or not, the thing
was too incredible a farce to leave me unmoved. Yes, I laughed out of
sheer delight. The drollery of this phantom hacking at Mallare with a
non-existent dagger ... a mad windmill charging Don Quixote! Superb!

"I perceive now a moral in the situation that I did not think of at the
time. Sacrilege is a vital danger to God. His omnipotence is dependent
upon the submission of His creatures. And they who, inspired with the
quaint illusion of their own reality, turn upon Him--ah, they destroy
themselves. But their destruction impoverishes their God.

"At the time, however, the spectacle alone and not its significances,
preoccupied me. I laughed and reached my hand to the dagger. A sadistic
gesture, for I desired to give my senses a taste of its reality and
thus enjoy their squirming. Marvelous dagger! The point of it was sharp.
Mallare can invent daggers, beautiful daggers that poise
melodramatically over his heart, that move slowly in quest of his life's
blood! S'death, a property man of parts!

"'Clever dagger,' I murmured. 'Do you enjoy the illusion of yourself as
much as this chimera wielding you quivers with the illusion of impending
murder?'

"It paused before me and I nodded. My laughter had halted it. It was
evident that my thought operating in this phantom was confused by my
laughter. I nodded again.

"'It would be logical and extremely pleasant,' I thought, 'if