is head he turned up his bright eyes, under the
thick, finely-wrinkled lids, as though looking upward toward that Power
against which he strove. The glance was malignant and defiant, human and
yet half-devilish. Then he looked down again, and again fell into deep
thought.

"And if it is to be so," he said at last, rising suddenly and letting
his open hand fall upon the table, "even then, I am provided. She cannot
free herself from that bargain, at all events."

Then he wrapped his furs around him and went out again. Scarce a hundred
paces from Unorna's door he met the Wanderer. He looked up into the
cold, calm face, and put out his hand, with a greeting.

"You look as though you were in a very peaceful frame of mind," observed
Keyork.

"Why should I be anything but peaceful?" asked the other, "I have
nothing to disturb me."

"True, true. 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. He is a little odd."

Keyork tapped his ivory forehead significantly with one finger.

"Mad," suggested the Wanderer.

"Mad, if you pre