"It is not given to me to make slaves of all living things with hand and eye and word.

Such power Nature does not give to all, she has given none to me.

I have no spell to win Unorna's love--and if I had, I cannot say that I would take a love thus earned." He paused a moment and Unorna grew paler.

She started, but then did not move again.

His words had power to wound her, but she trembled lest the Wanderer should understand their hidden meaning, and she was silent, biding her time and curbing her passion.
"No," continued Kafka, "I was not thus favoured in my nativity.