He flung his arms round the Wanderer's body and attempted to embrace him.
"You have saved my life!--the curse of the three black angels on you for not saying so first!" he cried in an agony of ecstasy.

"Preserver! What can I do for you ?--Saviour of my existence, how can I repay you! You shall live forever, as I will; you shall have all my secrets; the gold spider shall spin her web in your dwelling; the Part of Fortune shall shine on your path, it shall rain jewels on your roof; and your winter shall have snows of pearls--you shall--" "Good Heavens! Keyork," interrupted the Wanderer.

"Are you mad?
What is the matter with you ?" "Mad?
The matter?
I love you! I worship you! I adore you! You have saved her life, and you have saved mine; you have almost killed me with fright and joy in two moments, you have--" "Be sensible, Keyork.

Unorna is quite safe, but we must do something about Kafka and--" The rest of his speech was drowned in another shout from the gnome, ending in a portentous peal of laughter.

He had taken his glass again and was toasting himself.
"To Keyork, to his long life, to his happiness!" he cried.