But she would bring it back again, and it should be for her, for he should never wake again.

Had she not done as much with the ancient scholar who for long years had lain in her home in that mysterious state, who obeyed when she commanded him to rise, and walk, to eat, to speak?
Why not the Wanderer, then?
To outward eyes he would be alive and awake, calm, natural, happy.

And yet he would be sleeping.

In that condition, at least, she could command his actions, his thoughts, and his words.

How long could it be made to last?
She did not know.