"I never loved any woman yet." Unorna laughed bitterly.
"How perfect it all was at first!" she exclaimed.

"How smooth it seemed! How easy! You slept before me, out there by the river that very afternoon.

And in your sleep I bade you forget.

And you forgot wholly, your love, the woman, her very name, even as Israel Kafka forgot to-day what he had suffered in the person of the martyr.

You told him the story, and he believes you, because he knows me, and knows what I can do.